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A man sat by the side of the road.

It was late in the evening, a time at which most people were at home and not wandering the streets, particularly not these backroads. Lan Wangji preferred it that way, preferred the quiet and empty roads around the wide rivers and canals weaving through the town. It allowed him to let Bichen gallop as fast as she wanted without having to worry about running into someone, whether that be townsfolk or tourists.

Rarely did he have to worry in these backroads though. Though they were narrow and, with spring upon them, the trees were too wide with their growing crowns, it was a barely trafficked area. Here, in these backroads, Lan Wangji could easily keep Bichen in a steady trot and not worry about trampling wildlife or an unusual walker.

Which was why it startled him when he came across the donkey.

Had he not been in a trot and paying attention, he would have trampled it.

The donkey stood turned sideways in the narrow opening, blocking half the road as it nibbled at the tall grass stretching toward the gravel trail. It lifted its head when Lan Wangji clicked his tongue and pulled at Bichen’s reins to still her, but it made no effort to move. It stared at him while it lazily chewed on a mouthful of grass, clearly unbothered by his presence.

On its back was a saddle and attached to it were stuffed bags on either side. Clearly, it was a donkey used for travel.

And mere meters from it was a man.

The man was lying against a tree trunk with one leg bent and the other crossed over, his arms behind his head, hands acting as a pillow. A straw hat rested on his face though there was little sun left to shade from and only his identity was shaded. The man was still—asleep, perhaps. But even as Lan Wangji approached after dismounting Bichen and leaving her on the other side of the unmoving donkey, his footsteps deliberately noisy against the gravel trail, the man did not stir.

It was only when Lan Wangji was mere steps away that the man spoke.

“I’m not asleep,” he said, and Lan Wangji froze.

He knew that voice.

It was deeper than he last heard it, more mature. But he knew it.

“So,” the man continued as he moved to lift his hat, “don’t try to steal my don—”

He cut himself off abruptly once his hat was off his face and his eyes—growing comically wide in a single blink—met Lan Wangji’s.

Time came to a stop, and so did Lan Wangji’s breath.

He had not seen Wei Wuxian in years, at least not in person. It had been well over a decade since their tearful goodbye in their late teens, a goodbye that had meant to be a see you later but had ended up being a farewell. Lan Wangji had seen him in tabloids and in interviews since, of course, though less and less as the years went by because it hurt too much to see him and not hear from him without the media involved—or from a secondhand source; his uncle, his brother, his son, but never Wei Wuxian.

But he had seen him on screens, distantly watched him grow into his adult years, and perhaps that was why, to him, Wei Wuxian still looked like himself.

His dark brown, near-black hair was still long, now gathered in a ponytail that sat low on the nape of his neck, and his eyes were still as bright as the full moon, shimmering and grey and blinking owlishly up at him while those lips—red, plump, still kissable—parted in a gape.

“—key,” Wei Wuxian finished in a breath.

In that breath, time crashed in like the tide.

Lan Wangji exhaled with it, though he did not speak as words seemed to fail him.

Wei Wuxian, however, did not stop speaking. That too had not changed.

“La—” he started, then cleared his throat and laughed awkwardly. “I mean, hello, stranger! Don’t mind silly old me here. I’m just letting my donkey have a rest for a minute, then we will be on our way. We won’t be here long! I was just passing through, I promise. Not causing any problems or anything, haha.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said then, finally. It came out in an airy breath.

He had said the name many times, the shape of it still familiar to his lips though he had said it out loud less and less as time had gone by—but it never strayed from his thoughts and was often whispered in private rather than spoken aloud. Saying it out loud in the presence of another felt like a dream, particularly when the owner of said name sat before him and reacted with a wince.

“Wei who? Aha, I don’t know who that is,” Wei Wuxian said in an awkward laugh, like a cover for his wince. “You must mistake me for someone else, xiansheng. My name is Mo Xuanyu.”

Lan Wangji leveled him a look and repeated, “Wei Ying.”

Still chuckling awkwardly and forcibly, Wei Wuxian pushed himself up to stand and dusted off his pants, righted himself and his clothes. Then he looked at Lan Wangji and pointed his straw hat at him.

“Now, now, xiansheng,” he said, mock scolding and his free hand on his hip. “I just told you my name and you keep insisting on calling me something else. How rude of you, tsk tsk.”

Lan Wangji did not fall for Wei Wuxian’s poor theatrics. He stepped closer and repeated himself. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian cringed and did not hide it this time. Whether he cringed at himself or the word, Lan Wangji did not know, but it made him stop in his approach. They were close enough anyway. This close, he could see that Wei Wuxian looked tired, dark circles under his eyes. He looked thin too—too thin—and rough around the edges. He must have been on the road a long time.

Lan Wangji had heard of the scandal, of course. It had been all anyone could talk about for weeks, though talk had quieted down after a couple months. He had hated it, hated listening to the way people—both average and news anchors—spoke of Wei Wuxian and had dug into his past to skew that too once more. They had spoken of him like he was a demon, twisting and turning his image to fit their narrative however they saw fit.

Lan Wangji had avoided the news and media for months.

And now Wei Wuxian was here, in Suzhou.

So far from home.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said again. “Do you need a place to rest?”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian said in an airy chuckle. “I can find an inn or sleep on the road, it’s no—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji interrupted. He could not stop saying his name. “Come to Cloud Recesses and rest. Do not sleep on the road anymore. It is not safe.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him unblinkingly and then, in an exhale that sounded like a laugh, his face seemed to soften, and on his lips grew a gentle smile, a tired smile. He exhaled a heavy sigh and shook his head.

“Lan Zhan,” he said and oh, Lan Wangji had missed his name spoken in this way, by that voice. “Lan Zhan ah, Lan Zhan. What would your uncle say if he knew you were inviting public enemies into his home?”

“Uncle does not have to know,” Lan Wangji said. “And Wei Ying is no enemy.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. It did not sound happy. “Maybe not to Lan Zhan,” he said and stepped closer, pointing his straw hat at him again while his smile turned into a teasing grin, “but Lan Zhan is biased, if I remember right.”

Lan Wangji felt his ears heat, but he did not look away. Instead, he asked, “Why are you here?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged and said, “I left home.”

“Why?”

“Oh, come on.” Wei Wuxian gave him a look, a raised brow. “You can’t fool me, Lan Zhan. I know you must have heard about it. Everyone in China has, so you must have too.”

Lan Wangji did not care for the twisted words of the tabloids and social media. He wanted to hear it from Wei Wuxian himself, wanted his side of the story instead. He told Wei Wuxian as much, and Wei Wuxian laughed—unhappy, again, and it broke Lan Wangji’s heart—and shook his head. The smile on his lips turned sad, his eyes a little shiny. But he did not look away.

“I fucked up, Lan Zhan,” he said quietly. Tightly. “I fucked up big time and I left before the scandal could take down the whole company or spread to my family. I couldn’t let that happen, not again. It was best to just... disappear. Let things calm down and then, I don’t know. But I can’t go back. They wouldn’t want me back anyway, rightfully so.”

Lan Wangji nodded. He understood. “But why come here?” he asked then.

The Jiangsu province was far from Hubei, Suzhou even further, and though Cloud Recesses was a relatively removed part of the city, it did not seem like a place Wei Wuxian would hide in or even pass through or get near. Too many people knew his face and yet, here he was anyway.

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said. “I just... started traveling and then I found this old donkey,” he gestured to the donkey that was still carelessly chewing grass to the side, now joined by Bichen, “and before I knew it... I was in Suzhou.”

Lan Wangji dared not hope, but a part of him hoped that Wei Wuxian had come here to seek his help again. Because Lan Wangji would help him in a heartbeat, no questions asked, despite how long it had been since they’d last spoken. But he dared not say lest he be wrong, so he merely nodded and accepted Wei Wuxian’s answer as the truth.

Whether he had come here for his help specifically or not did not matter anyway.

Wei Wuxian was here, and Lan Wangji would help, however he could.

That was all that mattered.

“There is space,” he said then, “in Cloud Recesses. If you would like a place to rest.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him with a smile that did not seem so sad anymore. “You won’t stop offering until I say yes, will you?”

Lan Wangji almost smiled. Almost. “No,” he said.

It made Wei Wuxian laugh—not unhappily, this time—then he sighed and shook his head. But the smile did not leave his lips. Lan Wangji’s chest ached.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian said in an exhaled. “I guess I have no choice but to let you kidnap me then. What a shame, what a shame. Poor old me. And here I thought Suzhou was a nice place! Who would’ve thought I would end up getting kidnapped! That is what the tabloids should be focusing on; the Suzhou kidnapper, targeting poor young men with donkeys.”

He laughed and feigned feeling faint, hand to his forehead as he gasped.

Lan Wangji merely shook his head, but he could not fight the lightness in his chest.

He had missed this; the laugh, the theatrics, all of it. It did not feel real.

For years, Lan Wangji had dreamt of Wei Wuxian coming into his life again. He had dreamt of Wei Wuxian beside him so often that there were many mornings where he would wake up and expect the other side of his bed to be occupied, only to be disappointed when it remained empty and cold.

Part of him feared that this too was a dream, and he would wake up to find his bed empty and the ranch lacking that bright laughter once more; home but not quite. But regardless, he was happy to have it, even if it was just a momentary dream and he would wake up disappointed and heartbroken.

Wei Wuxian grinned at him widely, toothily, and Lan Wangji hid his own smile by turning away. He looked at the donkey, who had now turned to look at them with little interest as it chewed another mouthful of grass. Beside it, Bichen showed little care too, head bowed to the grass as she nibbled.

“We have space for your donkey too,” Lan Wangji said, without looking away. A shipment had just been sent out. There would be plenty room in the stables for a donkey.

“Ah!”

As if only just remembering its existence, Wei Wuxian bounded over to his donkey and grabbed its reins. He did not get on, however. He seemed about to, hands on the saddle and knees bend as if to pull himself up. But then he paused and shot Lan Wangji a look over his shoulder. It was a sly look, eyes narrowed and, though his lips were hidden behind his shoulder, Lan Wangji knew there was a grin there too.

Lan Wangji knew that look. He knew what it meant, and he knew Wei Wuxian knew too, but it did not seem to deter Wei Wuxian as the sly look washed away in a single exhale.

“Oh, my donkey,” Wei Wuxian cried with big eyes turned to Lan Wangji as he pet the donkey. “My sweet Little Apple is so tired from this long journey. I fear she would not be able to carry me and my baggage aaall the way to Cloud Recesses. Poor sweet donkey is so tired, Lan Zhan. Whatever shall we do?”

The donkey—Little Apple—continued to chew, seemingly used to Wei Wuxian’s theatrics.

Lan Wangji did not roll his eyes. He merely selfishly said, “There is room on Bichen.”

Wei Wuxian smiled at him, brighter than the setting sun. “Perfect!”

Lan Wangji mounted Bichen first. Then he held out his hand to Wei Wuxian, who took said hand in both his own as Lan Wangji hoisted him up to let him settle behind him on the saddle. They were close like this, with Wei Wuxian’s legs on either side of him, and Lan Wangji nearly lost his breath when Wei Wuxian rested a hand on his waist, his other holding Little Apple’s reins to pull her along.

They had not been this close in over a decade. Lan Wangji had not thought he would ever be touched by him again, let alone see him in person or have a conversation with him—though he had dreamed, and he had hoped.

What Wei Wuxian had gone through and was now going through again was horrible and heartbreaking, and Lan Wangji would give anything to make it right so Wei Wuxian would not have to hurt any longer.

But Lan Wangji could not help but be grateful for it because it brought him here.

Taking him to his home... It was a selfish act, but Lan Wangji did it anyway.

To get to Cloud Recesses, one would have to pass through the rice fields surrounding it. The fields were vast and gated, always with two guards patrolling after nightfall when the fields were empty of workers. They arrived at the gate before then, though only just, and while the gate was unlocked, there were not yet any guards stationed at their post nor was there a soul in sight.

Wei Wuxian seemed nervous to enter anyway. As they rode through the gate in a steady trot, Little Apple matching Bichen’s speed behind them, the arm that now laid wrapped around Lan Wangji’s waist tightened its hold, and Wei Wuxian leaned bodily against his back, as if he wished to merge himself with him to hide despite the lack of people around.

Lan Wangji would not be opposed.

It was late and though many workers were housed in cabins on the residency between the ranch and the fields, the Lans worked on a strict schedule. The only ones who would be out at this hour would be the guards, neither of whom Lan Wangji was worried about recognizing the man behind him.

They passed them as they rode across the bridges leading through the fields toward Cloud Recesses’ gates. Lan Wangji acknowledged them with a nod when the two turned and bowed their heads to him, but he looked away and did not acknowledge their open-mouthed staring when they spotted the man sitting behind him, who was now hiding his face against Lan Wangji’s back.

Lan Wangji heard the guards whisper as they passed, but that too he did not acknowledge. He merely rode on, through the fields and through the main gates of a quiet and sleeping Cloud Recesses.

Outside the stables, Lan Wangji helped Wei Wuxian down from Bichen and took both reins in hand to lead the horse and the donkey into Bichen’s stall at the quiet end. He had not lied when he said there was plenty of space for Little Apple here. Many stalls were empty and would not be occupied for a few months, but there was a strict feeding schedule and Lan Wangji did not want to cause a stir with the morning hands when they arrived and saw an unscheduled donkey. So, Bichen’s stall would have to do for the night.

Though, selfishly, Lan Wangji hoped it would be more than one night.

Selfishly, he hoped it would be long enough for Little Apple to be added to the feeding schedule.

Selfishly, he hoped Wei Wuxian would stay—

—though that would mean his situation not improving.

Once the horse and the donkey were secured and relieved of their saddles and reins and baggage, the latter of which Lan Wangji slung over his shoulder and Wei Wuxian did not try to stop him or offer a hand, Lan Wangji guided Wei Wuxian across the ranch to his private cabin. It was further away from the rest of the residency, a little more private and a little more quiet.

Lan Wangji had requested it, years ago, and his uncle had granted it.

“Lan Zhan has his own place now?” Wei Wuxian asked as they passed by the main house.

There was still light in the windows. Uncle was still awake, xiongsheng undoubtedly too even though he had an early morning. On any normal day, Lan Wangji would stop by to wish them both a good night. But he did not tonight, did not even slow as they passed by the house. He only threw a glance in its direction when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a curtain move in a window on the upper floor.

But the curtain was still, and no one was looking through, so he continued to walk.

“Mn,” he answered Wei Wuxian. “Uncle felt it was time.”

“Why?” Wei Wuxian sidled up next to him, too close, and grinned at him. “Because Lan Zhan has so many girls over, your uncle got sick of hearing them into the late hours of the night?”

Lan Wangji leveled him a look. He did not dignify that with a response.

“Or,” Wei Wuxian continued, somehow closer yet not tripping either of them, “men, perhaps?”

Lan Wangji felt his ears burn in the cool evening air. He did not answer this either.

“Wei Ying,” he said instead, warningly.

“Kidding, I’m kidding!” Wei Wuxian said in a laugh, though Lan Wangji felt there was little kidding about it.

Something told him that Wei Wuxian wanted to know, so Lan Wangji looked at him and said, “I do not have others over. Men or women.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, then, with a curious head tilt, he asked, “Never?”

“Never,” Lan Wangji echoed. Not since you, he did not say.

When Wei Wuxian smiled then, it seemed sincere. Relieved, almost.

It pleased Lan Wangji, made him smile too.

When they made it to the cabin, Lan Wangji went up the steps and held the door open, and Wei Wuxian stepped through like he had been there many times before. Like it was a home to him, and it did funny things to Lan Wangji’s chest. But he did not dwell on it and merely followed him inside, letting the door close behind them. He turned on the lights with a flick and bent to set the luggage down, his eyes drifting to Wei Wuxian.

As they always seemed to do.

Privately, he was afraid to look away.

Afraid that if he blinked, this would have all been a dream and he would lose this sight.

This sight of Wei Wuxian walking around his home with his hands clasped behind his back and an easy smile resting carelessly on his lips, a bounce in his step as if he were a bird curiously poking at shiny things. But there were not many shiny things in this cabin. Lan Wangji liked to be clean and kept his home simple.

Few of the things most precious to him were displayed on walls and shelves while the rest were stored away safely. It left his home rather... bare. Not that it seemed to make Wei Wuxian any less interested.

It did not take long before Wei Wuxian came to a stop by the still-made bed. There, he paused for only a moment before he heaved a sigh and shrugged out of his jacket, which he let fall to the floor behind him and did not pick up. Lan Wangji opened his mouth—to scold him, to call him shameless, he did not know—but before he could get a word out, Wei Wuxian flopped sideways onto his bed and did not move.

“Ahh, Lan Zhan,” he sighed— moaned, rather.

Lan Wangji froze, words stuck in his throat.

With another heavy sigh, Wei Wuxian rolled onto his back and toed out of his shoes, which joined his jacket on the floor, carelessly and messily. He then shuffled and wiggled around on the mattress, undoing the neat covers and pulling them down.

“I’m so tired,” he moaned in complaint. “I have been traveling for so long and some stranger came and woke me up in the middle of my nap! Can you believe? How rude of him, don’t you think, Lan Zhan? You don’t mind this one going right to sleep, do you? Thanks, Lan Zhan! You’re the best.”

He did not wait for a yes or a no.

He merely wiggled his way underneath the covers, made himself comfortable, and turned his back to the rest of the room and to Lan Wangji as he put his head on one of the pillows. And then he went still. Not asleep because although Lan Wangji remembered he was quick to fall asleep, no one could fall asleep that quick.

Lan Wangji stood there and stared at him.

Wei Wuxian was in his bed.

After more than a decade, he was in his bed again.

Quietly, Lan Wangji reached out and turned off the lights again.

In the morning, Lan Wangji woke up later than usual.

Outside, the rooster was finishing his morning call. On a normal morning, Lan Wangji would have been awake well before then. It was part of his routine to be up to urge the rooster to the residency and make sure everyone got up on time. But he had slept in and even now that he had woken, he was in no rush to leave his bed. Because Wei Wuxian was asleep next to him.

Wei Wuxian laid turned to him, face smushed against the pillow that he held clutched in one hand and the other curled underneath his chin. His hair was loose from its previous ponytail. It laid spread out on the mattress behind him, a few strands stuck to his relaxed and softened face, his lips parted in quiet breaths.

In the morning light, he looked like a dream.

Lan Wangji stared at him, did not want to look away. He had selfishly crawled into bed beside him after Wei Wuxian had properly fallen asleep, which had not taken long after all. Lan Wangji had not slept much, too aware of the warm body next to him and too afraid that if he closed his eyes, the warm body would be gone when he opened them again.

But it was not. Wei Wuxian was still here.

Lan Wangji had always thought his bed was too big for one person and waking up to the sight of a sleeping Wei Wuxian, well. It felt right.

Selfishly, it felt right.

Quietly, daringly, Lan Wangji inched a hand across the mattress. His fingertips were a breath away from the pillow-clutching hand when he lifted his own and reached for Wei Wuxian’s face instead. His fingers hovered, not touching but close enough that he could feel the heat from Wei Wuxian’s body. And when he lowered his hand to hover by Wei Wuxian’s parted lips, he could feel his quiet breath against his own skin.

He wanted to touch, to brush those stray hairs behind his ear.

But before he could do more than merely entertain the idea, there was a knock on the door.

Wei Wuxian stirred ever so slightly with a scrunched-up nose and a furrow between his brows, and Lan Wangji did not hesitate to leave the bed. He got up and quickly got himself dressed and his hair properly tied in a low ponytail before he went to the door and pulled it open.

Lan Xichen stood on the other side, his usual smile in place on his lips.

“Wangji,” he said in greeting as his smile grew. “Good morning.”

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji greeted back with a nod.

“I apologize for coming by so early,” Lan Xichen said. “You were not at the stables and, well. Jingyi tells me you have a friend over?”

Lan Xichen said it like a question, like he was not sure he believed Lan Jingyi’s words. Lan Wangji understood. Lan Jingyi liked to test the limits of his elders’ patience and press buttons even after he had been told not to. But he did not lie, never did.

Lan Wangji did not turn around, but his eyes moved to the side, glancing toward his bed further inside. Though the door was not open all the way, Lan Xichen would only have to lean a tiny bit to the side to see the lump on the bed where Wei Wuxian had turned his back to the room, still sound asleep.

And that was what Lan Xichen did.

Lan Wangji pulled the door to block his view and did not look at him, his ears burning.

He did not need to look at his brother to know he was smiling anyway. His delight was evident in his voice when he spoke, only seconds later.

“Who is that?” he asked him, needlessly pointing toward the bed with the breathing lump.

“A... friend,” Lan Wangji said, borrowing Lan Jingyi’s word.

He and Wei Wuxian used to be... friends, perhaps. He did not know if they still were.

Lan Xichen hummed, still smiling. “Does this friend have a name?”

He said friend like he did not believe whoever was in his brother’s bed was a mere friend.

Lan Wangji’s ears burned, and he resisted the urge to shut the door in his brother’s face.

“Mo Xuanyu,” he said because it was the name Wei Wuxian had told him to use if anyone asked, even though Lan Wangji had pointed out that people would recognize him.

“It’s been thirteen years,” Wei Wuxian had said on the way to the ranch. “I was a teen still with baby fat on my cheeks. And how many people in Suzhou actually care about a former film producer anyway? Not enough to recognize me, that’s for sure. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving your room much anyway. They won’t even see me.”

But they did care, and they would recognize him, especially the younger hands. Many of the younger hands were movie fanatics and had gotten excited when, many years ago, Lan Wangji had shown an interest in movies produced by Lotus Pier. Ever since, Lan Wangji had gotten his film industry news—the Jiang family, Wei Wuxian, and everyone and everything else—through them.

They cared and would recognize him.

But Lan Wangji had not said as much, because he was selfish and merely wanted Wei Wuxian here.

Before him, Lan Xichen hummed. Lan Wangji dared to lift his gaze and meet his brother’s, only to immediately regret it when he saw the pleased grin on his face. Lan Xichen did not tease, never did, never had a reason to. But the look in his eyes said it all.

Lan Wangji glared in return.

“Well,” Lan Xichen said, uncaring of the glare. “I presume Mo Xuanyu would like some breakfast?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. “When he wakes.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen said. His smile did not leave. “There will be breakfast at the house until noon. I will be sure to have them put aside some for your... friend.”

Lan Wangji looked away, his ears hot. “Mn.”

Lan Xichen left then, with a nod and a knowing smile. Lan Wangji closed the door and let out a breath. He stood there for a moment to merely breathe and calm himself, before he looked toward the bed again. Wei Wuxian had not moved, was still breathing slowly in his sleep.

Lan Wangji did not want to wake him. If nothing had changed in the past thirteen years, Wei Wuxian would stay asleep for several more hours anyway, impossible to rise before he was ready to. He had been traveling for a while and clearly needed the sleep too, so Lan Wangji decided to leave him be and, after getting properly dressed, left to do his morning chores.

He headed for the stables first, to check on Bichen and Little Apple. As he walked through the ranch, whispers and stares followed him with each hand he passed by, and he ignored them all, though his ears burned hot at each of them. There was rarely gossip circulating in Cloud Recesses, but that was because there was little to gossip about.

This, evidently, was something to gossip about.

He gave it no attention, did not care for it. His uncle would scold them later, if he knew.

However, Lan Wangji did not get to ignore it for long.

“Lan-qianbei!” a voice called out behind him, before he had even made it to the stables.

Lan Wangji knew the voice and reluctantly stopped walking. He turned and saw Lan Sizhui come running toward him, several other junior hands right behind him—including Lan Jingyi who had his hand raised and called out to him again.

One was not supposed to run so close to the stables, lest they startle the horses. A scolding rested on Lan Wangji’s tongue, but it did not leave for Lan Sizhui looked at him with a bright smile as he came to a stop before him, the others stopping behind him too.

“Baba,” Lan Sizhui said and looked up at him with big, curious eyes. Behind him, the others did the same. “Is it true? Do you have a friend over?”

Lan Wangji shot Lan Jingyi a look, but it did not seem to deter Lan Jingyi.

“I saw them!” Lan Jingyi said, excitedly as he pointed at him. “They were trying to be sneaky, but I saw them!”

Lan Wangji did not sigh. “Do not gossip,” he said instead. “And do your chores.”

“That’s a yes!” Lan Jingyi exclaimed, much too loud. He turned to the rest of the group. “He has a friend over! Is he in your cabin, qianbei? Can we go say hi? Please!”

“No,” Lan Wangji said, not unkindly. “Do not bother him. Do your chores.”

Lan Jingyi saluted and said, “Yes, qianbei!”

In an excited exclaim, he then bounded off with the rest of the chattering group, though Lan Sizhui did not leave with them. He stayed standing in front of Lan Wangji and looked up at him with bright eyes and an even brighter smile as he grabbed onto his sleeve.

“Baba,” Lan Sizhui said, voice low as he tugged on the sleeve. “Who is your friend?”

Lan Wangji looked at him and saw not the scared child who had come to Cloud Recesses many years ago, unknowing of the terrible situation he had been saved from but scared, nonetheless. His heart ached knowing that this boy’s savior was mere houses away, asleep in Lan Wangji’s bed.

Lan Sizhui would not recognize said man as his savior, would not remember what had happened to him. He had been too young, and Wei Wuxian had left too soon. But it was not the scared child that looked at him now. Rather, it was a curious and happy teenager with eyes as bright as those of the man who had saved him, remnants of him still lingering despite the passage of time.

Lan Wangji reached out and put a gentle hand on Lan Sizhui’s head. “Do your chores, bao bao,” he said in lieu of an answer.

Lan Sizhui nodded, but he still asked, “Can I meet him, sometime?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. “Sometime.”

Lan Sizhui smiled brightly at that and threw his arms around him in a brief hug, before he too bounded off after his friends. Lan Wangji watched him walk off, an ache in his chest. He wanted Wei Wuxian to meet him, to see the brilliant young man he had grown into, even if neither of them would recognize or remember the other. He selfishly wanted to see it anyway.

He lingered there until Lan Sizhui was out of sight. Then, he finally turned to his chores.

Bichen and Little Apple were still in the stall where they had been left, the former with her head in her feeding bucket while the latter chewed on a handful of apples that were not part of the horses’ morning diet. One of the junior hands must have given them to her, Lan Wangji assumed.

A new arrival would have caused a stir, particularly that of a donkey among all their horses, and without extra breakfast prepared, this was a kindness that Lan Wangji could not find in himself to be mad at, even if it went against routine.

Quietly, as to not disturb either, Lan Wangji stepped into the stall. Little Apple was too consumed by eating her apples to care about his presence and did not cast him a single glance, but Bichen lifted her head and turned to him as he approached. She knew their routine and nudged at his hand when he reached out to caress her.

“Good morning,” he told her in a quiet voice. “Thank you for sharing your space.”

Bichen snorted in an exhale in response and leaned into his hand.

She stood quietly and patiently as Lan Wangji brushed her. Afterward, he made an unsuccessful attempt to do the same with Little Apple, but she ran from him each time he approached. Eventually, he gave up and let her be, though her dirty coat bothered him. He would have to try with a wash later.

Lan Wangji then opened the stall door and walked out to do the same with the rest of the occupied stalls as he headed toward the stable doors. Behind him, each horse trailed out in practiced order. Even Little Apple followed suit after Bichen, though she caused quite a stir in the back when Lan Wangji pulled the barn doors open. They were not yet open all the way before she sprinted past the horses with a high squeal and ran out onto the vast, green pasture beyond the doors.

Lan Wangji ignored her and instead opened the doors all the way, allowing the horses to follow their new (temporary) companion onto pasture in a much quieter fashion.

Afterward—and after a raised hand in greeting when one of the trainers passed by on the other side of the pasture fence—Lan Wangji turned back around and started to clean the stalls. A couple junior hands joined him to help not long after he had started.

Scooping up the mess in a horse’s stall, Lan Wangji approached the wheelbarrow but paused to look into the stall where the hands were whispering gossip, failing in their attempt to be quiet. He caught little of what they were gossiping about, but he did not have to hear the words to know.

The hands had not noticed him.

In a quick move, Lan Wangji dumped the manure into the wheelbarrow.

He was not quiet about it.

The hands startled and turned to him with big eyes and flushed faces.

“Do not gossip,” Lan Wangji told them.

“Sorry, lao ban,” the hands said in guilty unison.

The whispering did not stop, however. Lan Wangji decided to let it slide.

Before noon, Lan Wangji returned to his cabin with a breakfast tray in hand. There was not usually anyone around his cabin, as it was too far away from everything else and he did not spend enough time there to garner visitors, but as he approached, he spotted a couple junior hands running off behind the surrounding bushes, clearly meant to be sneaky but not enough.

Lan Wangji did not roll his eyes. He merely ignored them and stepped into the cabin.

Wei Wuxian was awake now. He sat by the table against the far wall with a notebook open before him and a pen in his hand. He looked up when Lan Wangji stepped inside and smiled at him, as easy as ever.

Seeing him like this, in his home...

Lan Wangji nearly dropped the tray balanced in his hand.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian greeted him, putting down his pen. “Good morning!”

“It is noon,” Lan Wangji said, closing the door behind him and stepping out of his dirty boots.

Wei Wuxian waved a dismissive hand at him. “Pah,” he said on an exhale. “Semantics. It’s the start of the day for me, therefor it is morning.”

Lan Wangji hummed instead of arguing. “Have you been awake long?” he asked then.

Wei Wuxian shook his head with a hum and said, “Not long. I must have needed the sleep, it turns out. Or maybe your bed is just that comfortable. I was out cold for so long! Sorry for hogging your bed all night, Lan Zhan.”

His apologetic tone was pretend, aided by the big eyes and bottom lip in a pout.

Lan Wangji knew Wei Wuxian was not sorry.

He did not want him to be, either.

“No need,” Lan Wangji said as he stepped over. “Wei Ying needed sleep.”

As he bent to put down the tray, he did not look at the notebook that was left open on the table, though he wanted to, felt the urge to. But it would be rude without Wei Wuxian’s permission, so he quickly averted his eyes after catching a glimpse of scribbled text and a sketch of something, though he had not seen enough to know what that something was.

Curiosity ate at him, but he ignored it and merely lifted the lid off the small pot that held the still steaming serving of congee. As if on cue, Wei Wuxian’s stomach growled loudly.

“Ah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed and reached out to take the pot between his hands. “You brought me breakfast? How sweet of you.” He leaned in and sniffed, then exhaled with a pleased smile resting on his lips. “Ah, just what I needed. Tasteless Lan congee.”

Lan Wangji shot him a look. “Wei Ying,” he scolded.

“Kidding, I’m kidding,” Wei Wuxian said in a laugh. “I am grateful for the hospitality and the free food, and I will eat without complaining. Well. Maybe a little complaining. Would it hurt to add just a little bit of seasoning? Makes it taste so much better, I promise you.”

Lan Wangji did not respond and merely handed Wei Wuxian a spoon.

Still, he did not look at the notebook.

Wei Wuxian did not seem in a hurry to close it, but Lan Wangji kept his gaze glued to him anyway.

Wei Wuxian dug into the congee with a pleased hum and ate as if he had not eaten in days. It made something ugly turn in Lan Wangji’s stomach, the mere thought that Wei Wuxian had not eaten or had a proper meal in so long making his hands curl into fists in both anger and sorrow.

He would go to town soon and buy as many spices as Wei Wuxian could carry.

He stood and watched Wei Wuxian eat for another moment, then he emptied the tray of the rest and put it aside. In his movement, the notebook came into his line of sight again. He did not mean to, but he found himself staring anyway, eyes falling on the sketch. It was of a human, though the sketch was incomplete, so he did not know who this human was meant to be.

Wei Wuxian had always liked to draw, he knew that much. When they were younger, he had drawn a lot and shown him too. He was a talented artist, and Lan Wangji missed seeing his art—not the films, for those were not entirely his own, but the drawings. He missed them, even though one sat in a frame in his desk drawer, carefully placed away like a precious treasure for his eyes only.

Lan Wangji stared at this sketch for all but a moment, before Wei Wuxian leaned in and blocked his view. It did not look like he meant to hide the drawing, only that he wanted Lan Wangji to look at him.

So, Lan Wangji looked at him instead.

“By the way, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Your junior hands are a curious bunch, I gotta say. They keep hovering outside your window.”

Lan Wangji blinked at him, then looked to the window. It was covered, the curtains drawn closed, but the sun was up and exposed the moving figures on the other side in the form of shadows on the cloth.

Quietly, he stepped up to the window and, without warning, abruptly threw the curtains open.

On the other side, Lan Jingyi startled back with a flail and a yelp, but he was quick to turn around and scramble away with a handful other juniors—some laughing, others yelling at each other to run, to hurry away.

Only one did not run off.

Lan Sizhui smiled at him through the glass, apologetic as he mouthed sorry. He lifted a hand with his thumb turned up and gave him a bright, near encouraging smile, before he too turned around and ran after his friends.

Lan Wangji let the curtain fall closed, his ears warm.

But all thoughts of scolding the juniors left his mind when, behind him, Wei Wuxian laughed.

Lan Wangji turned to him and watched as Wei Wuxian threw his head back and slapped his thigh as he laughed and laughed and laughed, wiping under his eye and clutching his stomach as he did. His laughter filled the whole cabin, so bright and so carefree.

Lan Wangji watched him and could not help but smile too.

He would let the juniors off lightly, just this once.

Lan Wangji returned to his duties, not long after.

As much as he wanted to stay, there were things to be done and overseen that he could not disregard lest he be punished and, in turn, everyone else be too. But he was reluctant to leave, hovering and glancing at the door but his feet were too heavy to move, too glued to the floor, and his eyes kept returning to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian noticed, of course, and laughed at him—not unkindly but merely amused.

“Lan Zhan,” he said in an airy chuckle. “You can leave. I know you’ve got work.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, not moving. “I have work to do.”

A beat passed, and Lan Wangji still did not move. He did not want to, particularly not when Wei Wuxian sat leaned back in his seat and ate berries that Lan Wangji had stolen from the kitchens. He looked so relaxed and like a dream in the afternoon sun shining through the slit in the covered window, Lan Wangji did not want to leave him. He did not want to look away.

But then Wei Wuxian smiled with a chuckle and waved an encouraging hand at him.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll stay put and wait for you to come back.”

Lan Wangji exhaled, his shoulders loosening ever so slightly.

Wei Wuxian had not said how long he would stay here. It could be days, it could be hours, he had not said, but Lan Wangji wanted to spend it all with him if the time was short. Soak it up if this was all he got for the next decade. But with the promise that Wei Wuxian would wait for him, it made it easier to turn and leave his cabin.

With a final look over his shoulder and a wave from Wei Wuxian, of course.

He returned to his duties, though he could not deny that his mind was elsewhere entirely the rest of the day. It crept up on him over and over again. His mind wandered to it—to him—as he oversaw (and did not scold) the juniors while they practiced stands and steady trots with the older horses. It was only when he was alone, brushing and braiding a few horses’ manes, that he allowed himself to sit in the thought for longer than a moment.

He thought of him.

Thought of him sitting in his cabin.

There, waiting. For him to come back.

The thought made his heart gallop in his chest, and he buried his burning face in the horse’s loose mane. When his brother passed by and called his name, he did not respond and stayed hidden until he felt he could breathe again.

It was no less difficult to hold his focus when he took a younger mare—beautiful in its brown coat—out to saddle train along with his brother, who sat on a young jet-black mare and who annoyingly kept looking at him with a glint in his eye. Lan Xichen said not a word, but Lan Wangji pointedly ignored him anyway.

Lan Wangji had always enjoyed riding. He liked the company of horses and riding had always made him feel free. It was exhilarating to take a horse out on an open field and let it run as fast as it could with him in the saddle. The wind rushing past him made him feel like he was flying and like he could finally breathe.

And yet, on this day as he let the mare gallop to her heart’s content, he did not enjoy it.

For he kept looking toward the main house and waited for the dinner bell to ring.

Time moved too slow when one was waiting for it to pass, it turned out. And he wanted the day to come to a close so he could return home. To Wei Wuxian.

When evening finally came and the kitchen rang the dinner bell, Lan Wangji did not hurry though he was the first to arrive at the table anyway. He sat and ate his dinner with his uncle and his brother, as he usually did, though he found that he had little appetite. He ate anyway and did not look up to meet his uncle’s questioning stare at the speed of which he ate.

His uncle must have heard about the unexpected guest on his ranch, but he had not approached to question him, nor did he say a word now. Food was meant to be consumed in silence anyway, and Lan Wangji intended to leave before questions could arise.

And before Wei Wuxian got bored of waiting.

Once his plate was emptied, Lan Wangji excused himself and returned to his cabin. He did not run, though his pace was quicker than it usually would be. He did not slow even as he passed by a farmhand arriving late to dinner. When the hand greeted him, he merely nodded in response and did not slow even as the hand called after him. It would have to wait.

The cabin, when he made it back, was dark and empty. The sight made Lan Wangji’s heart sink and his stomach turn in knots, his hand gripping the door handle a little tighter. But then his eyes landed on the luggage still sitting where they had been left the day before, and breath came a little easier to him.

Wei Wuxian must still be here. He had merely lied when he said he would stay put.

Or perhaps Lan Wangji took too long.

Without thought, Lan Wangji stepped out of the cabin and searched the ranch.

There were not many places one could go, nor were there many places where Wei Wuxian would go. The main house was out of the question. Even as a teen, Wei Wuxian had not gotten along with Lan Wangji’s uncle and seeing him now would only cause chaos.

No. Wei Wuxian would avoid the main house like the plague.

There was no reason for him to go to the residency either. Though the juniors had shown an interest in him, and Wei Wuxian must be curious about them too—he had always liked kids, had been reluctant to leave Lan Sizhui, back in the day. But it was late, and Wei Wuxian knew the Lan schedule. Perhaps he did not remember, but the juniors would be going straight to bed after washing up after dinner.

No. Wei Wuxian would not go there.

Before he knew it, Lan Wangji stood before the stable barn. The horses had long been put away for the night so when he opened the door, it was quiet inside aside from a distant scuffle of noise from some of the more restless ones further in. It should have been dark too and it was, mostly, aside from one lantern still lit on the second level where hay and gear were kept stored away.

In the lantern’s light sat Wei Wuxian, one leg bent and the other hanging over the edge. He was leaning back, propped up on one hand while his other arm hung loosely over his bent knee. In his hand he held a bottle. Baijiu, no doubt. That was his favorite.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian greeted him, his smile wide and toothy as he lifted the bottle in a wave.

Lan Wangji pulled the barndoor closed without looking away.

“Wei Ying,” he said as he stepped closer. “You did not wait.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian said. He sat up, swung both legs over the edge. “I wanted to check on Little Apple, see how she’s doing out here. She’s completely fine, as it turns out. I think she likes it here. Think he might think she’s a horse too.”

He laughed, and Lan Wangji looked over toward Bichen’s stall. He had checked on her and her companion not long before hands had guided them inside from pasture. It was quiet in their direction. They were likely both asleep.

“Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji looked back up.

Wei Wuxian smiled down at him and said, “Come up here.”

It was late. They should be getting ready to sleep.

Lan Wangji climbed the ladder anyway.

He sat down beside Wei Wuxian once Wei Wuxian scooted aside to give him room. Like this, they were close, their thighs touching, feet knocking together where they dangled over the edge. Lan Wangji tried to remember how to breathe and curled his hands in his lap.

Beside him, Wei Wuxian chuckled and nudged their shoulders together.

“Why are you so stiff, Lan Zhan?” he asked. “I don’t remember you being afraid of heights.”

“I am not,” Lan Wangji said. But his heart was going crazy.

“Here,” Wei Wuxian said and held out the bottle. “Have a sip. It’ll help you relax.”

Lan Wangji looked at the bottle, then looked at Wei Wuxian.

“Ah.” Wei Wuxian took it back with a chuckle and said, “You still don’t drink, do you?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirmed. “It is forbidden—”

“Forbidden, yeah, yeah,” Wei Wuxian said with a wave of his hand. “You Lans and your many rules. Good for business, bad for personal growth. You should have had a rebellious phase, Lan Zhan. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so stiff all the time.”

Lan Wangji did not roll his eyes, nor did he say he could not have had a rebellious phase because there had been a child he had needed to care for. Wei Wuxian did not remember, or perhaps he was avoiding the topic. It did not matter. Lan Wangji would not bring it up.

Next to him, Wei Wuxian put his lips to the bottle and tipped his head back to take a swig. Lan Wangji stared at the length of his neck, at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and swallowed. And when Wei Wuxian lowered his head and moved the bottle away with a sated sigh, he looked away.

“You know,” Wei Wuxian said as he wiped his chin, “you could just kiss me for a taste then.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes shot back to him, startled.

In his chest, his heart galloped over the edge.

Wei Wuxian met his eyes. His lips were red, wet. He did not lick off the lingering liquid.

A silent beat passed, then Wei Wuxian smiled widely and laughed. Like it had been a joke.

“Just kidd—”

Lan Wangji did not see it as a joke.

He grabbed the front of Wei Wuxian’s shirt and cut him off with a kiss.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was firm and perhaps a little rough, their teeth knocking together upon contact. But Lan Wangji did not pull away. He merely tilted his head to slot their lips better together and held onto him to keep him there. Not that Wei Wuxian tried to pull away. No, he made a noise of surprise against his lips, but then, after only a moment, he melted into it with a sigh and kissed him back.

It was not the first kiss they had shared, but it had been so long since their last that it may as well be. Despite the passage of time, Wei Wuxian still tasted the same, still felt the same against his lips. But he was a different man, an older man now, and Lan Wangji longed to discover in what ways he had changed, despite feeling so familiar against his lips.

Wei Wuxian kissed him in earnest, a little desperate. It had not been a joke then, or perhaps not entirely. Lan Wangji tightened his grip on his shirt and tilted his head a little more, parted his lips to lick at those wet ones pressed against his own. Wei Wuxian whimpered—whimpered and oh, that made Lan Wangji’s blood shoot south—against his lips and parted his own to allow Lan Wangji’s tongue entrance.

Lan Wangji did not hesitate to lick into his mouth, to taste him, taste the alcohol that lingered on his tongue though he did not care for it. Alcohol had always been forbidden in his life, but he had never had any desire for it anyway. It had always been presented to him in the form a drunken old man, boisterous and loud and a nuisance to all, and so, it had always been unappealing to him.

Before Wei Wuxian, at least.

With a drink in hand, Wei Wuxian was boisterous and loud too, but it was a different kind. He was friendly and touchy with alcohol in his system, more so than usual, something which made Lan Wangji angry—an anger that he later learned was jealousy. But Wei Wuxian was fun when drunk. Loose, relaxed, happy. Lan Wangji saw alcohol differently afterward, though it had little to do with the alcohol and all to do with the man drinking it.

It was only with Wei Wuxian’s alcohol-wettened lips pressed against his own that he had felt any desire to try some himself. It was only then that he saw the appeal. And after Wei Wuxian had left, Lan Wangji had longed for it. He had tried by himself, afterward, just once. But it was not the same without those lips pressed against his own, mingling his own taste with the bitterness of the drink.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispered quietly against his lips, pulling back ever so slightly.

Lan Wangji let him, though his lips lingered for a moment. But it was not the alcohol he wanted to savor. No, there was something much sweeter underneath that his tongue desired to search for, to taste more of.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispered again. “Oh, Lan Zhan, er-gege. I’ve missed you.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispered back, at a loss for words.

I’ve missed you too, he could not say but meant it, so deeply that his heart ached with it.

Wei Wuxian shifted and brought his arms up and around Lan Wangji’s neck. Lan Wangji distantly noticed there was no bottle in his hand but could not take his eyes off Wei Wuxian’s to see where he had put it. He did not care either. Wei Wuxian was leaning in to kiss him again, and Lan Wangji could do nothing but close his eyes and meet him halfway.

They kissed for a while, exploring and tasting, alcohol long forgotten. Lan Wangji did not know what time it was, nor did he care. Wei Wuxian was in his arms and kissing him again, and nothing else mattered.

Though their tongues mingled, the kisses stayed relatively tame for a while, a mere exploration to relearn each other. But when Wei Wuxian moaned into his mouth and tugged at him a little urgently, desperately, Lan Wangji let the tight cord that held him back snap and moved.

With his hand on Wei Wuxian’s chest, he pushed him down and maneuvered them around until Wei Wuxian’s legs were up on the platform with them and nudged at them as he crawled between them. Wei Wuxian spread them easily, invitingly, and Lan Wangji settled there as he leaned down to capture Wei Wuxian’s lips in another deep, desperate kiss.

Lan Wangji moved his hand from Wei Wuxian’s chest to the wooden flooring beneath him, his fingers knocking against something solid. The bottle, he belatedly realized, but in his haste, he accidentally sent it flying down to the barn floor below. It did not break, there was no shattering crash, but it landed with a heavy thud and undoubtedly spilled its contents.

But Lan Wangji did not care.

Wei Wuxian, however, seemed to.

He whined and broke the kiss to belatedly and almost lazily reach out for the bottle. “My baijiu,” he whined.

“I will buy you more,” Lan Wangji promised, then kissed him again.

Wei Wuxian must have accepted that or perhaps he too did not care, because he did not hesitate to kiss him back, arms back around him and pulling him further down until they were chest to chest, crotch to crotch.

Warmth to warmth.

With their tongues dancing between their slick lips, Lan Wangji bucked his hips against Wei Wuxian and was delighted when it brought a shaky moan from the man underneath him. He was all the more delighted when slender legs lifted and wrapped around his middle, a heel against his low back urging him to keep moving.

Lan Wangji did not have to be told twice.

He moved slowly, rutting against Wei Wuxian in a teasing pace. It made Wei Wuxian whimper into his mouth, like Lan Wangji had hoped it still would. Had his mouth not been occupied, Lan Wangji knew that Wei Wuxian would have complained too.

But Lan Wangji was too busy sucking on his tongue and his bottom lip to let him get a word out, so all Wei Wuxian could utter were noises—moans, whimpers, broken words—that Lan Wangji swallowed up and kept encouraging out as he rutted against him.

Lan Wangji was achingly hard in his pants, his cock yearning for something more. A part of him desperately wanted to tug Wei Wuxian’s pants down and slip his aching cock into him. He knew Wei Wuxian would let him too, though he would complain about the ache and the tightness—but he would love it, Lan Wangji remembered he liked it that way. And Wei Wuxian was hard too, rutting against him in earnest as desperately as Lan Wangji did to him.

Lan Wangji wanted to, but he could not stop moving.

It had been over a decade, and he wanted more, more, more—

“Ah!” Wei Wuxian gasped loudly, lewdly, when Lan Wangji shifted the angle of his thrusts.

Their kiss broke as Wei Wuxian threw his head back and clutched at him, nails digging into his shoulders as his legs tightened around him. Kiss broken, Lan Wangji attached his lips to Wei Wuxian’s bared neck instead and listened as Wei Wuxian moaned into his ear.

“Lan Zhan!” he moaned, lewdly. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zha— faster, faster, I’m close...”

It had not been long, but Lan Wangji knew he was getting closer too.

So, he obeyed without thought.

He rutted against him faster and faster, sloppier as the pace quickened, and when a heat started to build low in his stomach, he opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into the tender skin of Wei Wuxian’s neck. It made Wei Wuxian gasp and then moan as he suddenly tensed and stilled underneath him, shaking as he unmistakenly came in his pants.

Lan Wangji was not far behind, releasing into his own pants with a groan that was muffled by Wei Wuxian’s skin.

Afterward, neither of them moved.

They stayed tangled together, loosely wrapped around each other as they breathed. Wei Wuxian panted against his ear, and Lan Wangji soaked in it. It was only when he too needed to breathe that he remembered to detach from Wei Wuxian’s neck. Wei Wuxian whimpered when he did, then sighed out a breath as Lan Wangji placed a gentle kiss to the mark his teeth had left behind.

There was a time, many years ago, when Wei Wuxian always had several marks like this somewhere—bruises as well as bitemarks.

Lan Wangji wanted to give him more, but all he could do was lap at the mark with his tongue.

It made Wei Wuxian giggle, though he did not push him away.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said after a moment.

Reluctantly, Lan Wangji detached himself from his neck to lean back and look down at him. Underneath him, Wei Wuxian was smiling, stars in his eyes and a flush sitting prettily on his cheeks.

Lan Wangji wanted to kiss him. But Wei Wuxian spoke before he could.

“I can’t believe we just came in our pants like that,” he said in a chuckle. “What are we, teenagers? Next time, take me properly, er-gege. I only have so many pants, I can’t be ruining them all like this, you brute.”

Next time. There would be a next time.

“Ahaaa, but Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said in a breath, his smile softening. He placed a hand gently on Lan Wangji’s cheek, then quietly said, “I’ve missed you. This too, of course, but you... I’m glad I came back.”

Lan Wangji leaned into the hand on his cheek. “Mn,” was all he could say, his throat too tight for words.

Beneath him, Wei Wuxian chuckled and rubbed his thumb under Lan Wangji’s eyes. Lan Wangji knew it would come away damp.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Wei Wuxian said softly under him. “Are you gonna cry? Did you miss me that much? Don’t cry, Lan Zhan. I’m—”

Lan Wangji leaned down and shut him up with a kiss.

Wei Wuxian started following him around, after that.

He no longer seemed nervous to step foot on the ranch and walked with a carefree bounce in his step, seemingly uncaring about the scandal that still hung over his head—a scandal that people even all the way out here had heard about and often talked about, even still. He would not fly under the radar here, particularly not walking around like this, next to Lan Wangji.

But Lan Wangji did not remind him of this. He knew that Wei Wuxian knew and, selfishly, Lan Wangji wanted him to walk beside him, glued to him with every step. Besides, next to Lan Wangji was the safest place for Wei Wuxian to be. Lan Wangji would not allow anyone here to even think about speaking badly about Wei Wuxian, not in his presence.

When the scandal had first appeared, Lan Wangji had made sure that was known.

Still, Wei Wuxian caused a stir of murmurs in Cloud Recesses.

Whenever they passed hands—young as well as old—there would often be stares and some that lingered a little too long and were accompanied by gaping mouths and hushed words. But Wei Wuxian did not seem deterred by this. Instead, each time, he would simply turn to those whispering hands with a smile and introduce himself as Mo Xuanyu, though he knew as Lan Wangji knew that he fooled no one with that lie.

Wei Wuxian did not seem to care, so Lan Wangji decided he did not either.

The junior hands were particularly enamored by his presence. They recognized him immediately, of course they did, but resorted to calling him Mo-qianbei when Wei Wuxian introduced himself as his alias. Since then, a small handful of junior hands always seemed to hover around wherever Wei Wuxian went, like little ducklings following their mother, curious and undoubtedly excited for something different in their lives.

Cloud Recesses worked on strict routine. It was good for the horses and good for business. But it did not bring much variety, which made Wei Wuxian’s presence a welcoming change to them. That and the majority of the juniors were film fanatics. Lan Wangji knew it was only a matter of time before one of them caved and asked Wei Wuxian to tell them everything—not about the scandal but the business and the arts.

Lan Wangji wanted them to. Wei Wuxian always radiated such a light when he spoke about his passions, and Wei Wuxian liked kids and though these were teenagers and young adults, he would like them too. Lan Wangji wanted them to connect—selfishly, so Wei Wuxian would have more reasons to stay or come back.

Lan Xichen met him as well. It was impossible to avoid though Lan Wangji had tried to delay it as long as possible. He did not want uncle to know and if Lan Xichen knew, uncle would inevitably know as well—though, really, it was only a matter of time before the whispers reached his uncle too. And when they did, it would be hell.

Meeting Lan Xichen, however, turned out to be the opposite.

An uneventful event.

Lan Xichen recognized Wei Wuxian, of course he did. But when he had passed them as they were taking Little Apple and Bichen out for a ride while Lan Xichen had just returned from the fields, he had merely smiled at them and welcomed Wei Wuxian back. And then he had smiled at Lan Wangji and been on his way without a comment.

Wei Wuxian was understandably surprised by it, as was Lan Wangji.

“Was that... approval?” Wei Wuxian asked as they watched Lan Xichen urge the lingering juniors away. “Did— He has heard about it, right? Like, he knows what I did and everything?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. “He knows.”

Wei Wuxian blinked owlishly. “Huh,” was all he had to say.

And Lan Xichen did not disturb them further nor did he tell uncle, to which Lan Wangji was grateful.

But he did not miss the knowing smiles on his brother’s lips during dinner nor the passing comments in the mornings when Wei Wuxian had not yet risen to follow him around. Lan Wangji pointedly ignored them all, though he did not stop himself from glaring at his brother.

It always made Lan Xichen laugh and hold up his hands in surrender.

“I am happy for you, Wangji,” he would always say. “It is good to see you happy again.”

And Lan Wangji could say nothing to that. Because he was.

He was happy, because Wei Wuxian was here.

He was happy because in the evenings, he would mount Bichen and Wei Wuxian would mount Little Apple, and they would ride out and around Cloud Recesses until they found a clearing in the surrounding wood where they would tether their mounts to nearby trees and then lie down in the tall grass and kiss and touch and rediscover each other in these adult bodies.

He was happy because Wei Wuxian would sit on his lap in the late nights, cock stuffed in his hole and a sated smile on his lips as he fucked himself onto Lan Wangji, head thrown back as he rode him into the late hours. He was happy because he could take Wei Wuxian in his arms and fuck him into the mattress, and Wei Wuxian would laugh and then moan and tell him to go faster, faster, Lan Zhan— wreck me, er-gege—

He was happy because Wei Wuxian would hide his limp with a bounce in his step and the marks left behind by ropes and belts and Lan Wangji’s own hands, lips, teeth with long sleeves and high collars. But Lan Wangji knew they were there. Only he knew, and it pleased him, though part of him wanted Wei Wuxian to stop hiding them, to display those marks to the world and let everyone know that he was taken.

That Lan Wangji had taken him, claimed him as his.

He was happy because he woke up in the morning and found Wei Wuxian still sound asleep next to him, sometimes on his chest and sometimes curled around his arm. He was happy because, at any minute of the day, he could turn to his side and look at Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian would look back at him and smile.

It felt like a dream—a dream that Lan Wangji did not want to wake up from.

And in the afternoons, he would stand beside Lan Wangji on the other side of the fence surrounding the pasture and oversee the junior hands with him as they trained the horses; saddle training, lead training, general posture training, all of it. It was good for both the horses and the juniors, the latter of which were experienced enough to do it themselves. Lan Wangji no longer had to intervene and only needed to watch as they worked.

Worked and, on occasion, played.

Which was good, too.

It was distracting, to have Wei Wuxian stand so close to him during those times. Lan Wangji was supposed to watch his juniors carefully, in case something went wrong. Horses were big, skittish animals with powerful hooves, and things could go very wrong very quickly, so although the juniors knew what they were doing by now, Lan Wangji still had to focus.

But Wei Wuxian leaned into his side with his arms wrapped around Lan Wangji’s, head resting on his shoulder as he hummed and his fingers played with Lan Wangji’s sleeve. It was distracting, and Lan Wangji had to suffocate the urge to lift Wei Wuxian onto the fence so he could step between his legs and kiss him.

Wei Wuxian would not be opposed to it, Lan Wangji knew, but he too watched the juniors and seemed to enjoy doing just that. There was always an easy smile on his lips on afternoons like this, and he seemed so at peace that Lan Wangji did not have the heart to ruin it, even with a kiss.

And when he laughed as someone got bucked out of a saddle or someone struggled with a stubborn horse, he would hide his giggle in Lan Wangji’s arm or laugh so brightly that it made Lan Wangji smile too, ignoring the juniors yelling complaints their way because, in moments like those, he could only look at Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji had not smiled this much in years.

His cheeks almost hurt with it.

It was nice, as dream-like as it felt.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said one afternoon as they watched Lan Jingyi help Lan Sizhui onto the back of an uncaring horse. “I’ve been wondering... and don’t tell me if the story ends horribly. Then I don’t want to know. Just... don’t answer if that’s the case.”

Lan Wangji took his eyes off the juniors and looked at him.

Wei Wuxian was fidgeting with the white ribbon that kept Lan Wangji’s sleeves rolled up.

He was nervous, chewing on his bottom lip.

Lan Wangji frowned.

“But um,” Wei Wuxian continued then, after a beat. “What happened to him? A-Yuan? I meant to check up on him but, well. Things got out of hand on our end.”

Ah. So he did remember.

He did remember when he had shown up at Cloud Recesses, all those years ago, with tired eyes and a small child on his hip, an old lady beside him, asking for a place to rest for the night. Lan Xichen had been the one to invite them inside, and Lan Qiren had been the one to recognize Wei Wuxian and had ordered him to leave immediately.

Back then, Lan Wangji had not cared for the film and entertainment industry, so he had not known about the scandal that circulated the news; Wen Ruohan—one of the biggest and most influential directors in the country—had been accused of abusing his own kin as well as whoever worked for him.

Accused by Wei Wuxian.

Wen Ruohan, Lan Wangji had later learned, had not been someone one went against without risking one’s own career. He had a tendency to make negative press and accusations, of which there had been plenty during the decades of his career, disappear, and whoever had spoken them lose everything. And everyone else—in the industry, regular people, the media—had always been willing to turn a blind eye.

But not Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had been steadfast and stubborn and refused to let it die. It had made him a public enemy and put his own family at risk, so he had left and taken a few Wens with him. To hide them, keep them safe. And eventually, he had found himself at Cloud Recesses with a need for a place to rest.

And there he had stayed for six months.

Six months in which Lan Wangji had learned to care for something other than his horses.

Six months in which Lan Wangji had found meaning in life in the shape of a young man with a smile as bright as the sun who said his name so sweetly, Lan Wangji never wanted to hear it spoken by another.

And six months in which Wei Wuxian had forgotten about the outside world.

But it had only been six months before Wei Wuxian had to leave. Wen Ruohan had not stopped, and Wei Wuxian had wanted to bring justice to him. He had left Cloud Recesses with a promise to return, and Lan Wangji had promised to care for the child he would leave behind.

They had parted with a tearful kiss, and Lan Wangji had waited for him to return.

But Wei Wuxian had not.

He had won the court case against Wen Ruohan, of course. Wen Ruohan had lost his career, and no one had heard a word from him until, years later, his death had been announced. But Wei Wuxian still had not returned to Cloud Recesses. He had returned home and not left, and Lan Wangji had eventually accepted that he would never see him again.

But he was here now, standing beside him.

Another scandal had brought him back—one that had made the media dig into the past one to twist and turn it in whatever which way they wanted in order to make Wei Wuxian look bad—and that was terrible, but Lan Wangji was secretly happy.

And he was pleased that Wei Wuxian remembered the child too.

It had taken him a week to ask. Lan Wangji did not know why, and he supposed it did not matter either.

He looked out across the pasture and watched as Lan Sizhui gently kicked the horse into a trot. With a smile resting quietly on his lips, he told Wei Wuxian, “Lan Sizhui is doing well.”

Next to him, Wei Wuxian straightened. “He—” he started but did not finish.

After a beat, Lan Wangji shot a glance at him.

Wei Wuxian had his eyes out on the pasture, bright and perhaps a little teary. But his smile was brighter as he watched Lan Sizhui ride around the enclosure, and when Lan Sizhui rode by them and looked up with a smile and a wave, Lan Wangji watched as Wei Wuxian smiled impossibly wider and waved back.

The sun shined bright on its descend on the sky above, but it did not compare to Wei Wuxian.

Quietly, Lan Wangji inched his hand out and took Wei Wuxian’s where it rested on the fence. Without looking away, Wei Wuxian wrapped his fingers around his in return and held on tight. But he did not look away, not for a single second until the juniors all dismounted and started freeing the horses of their gear.

And when Lan Sizhui came bounding over to them afterward with a proud smile, Wei Wuxian did not hesitate to throw his arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace.

It was an odd thing to do, if one did not know the context behind the hug, and Lan Wangji could see the confusion on Lan Sizhui’s face when he looked at him over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. But Wei Wuxian was hugging him so tightly, squishing his face against his chest, and Lan Wangji merely watched them.

After all, he had dreamed about this.

“Oh, Lan Sizhui,” Wei Wuxian cooed as he squeezed him tightly. “You are such a wonderful, good boy. I am so proud of you.”

“Um,” Lan Sizhui said with an awkward chuckle as he patted Wei Wuxian’s back. “Thank you, Mo-qianbei.”

Lan Wangji tore his gaze away for only a moment, just to glance across pasture where the other juniors were gaping and whispering as they watched this unfold. Lan Wangji did not shoo them away but when he looked at them properly, they were all quick to turn away and pretend to do something else, though with little interest or care.

Wei Wuxian hugged Lan Sizhui to his chest for another minute before he let him go. Then, he held him out in front of him by the shoulders and smiled at him, the smile beaming and bright and his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

Though Lan Sizhui was understandably confused, he was smiling too, a flush on his cheeks.

“You are growing into such a fine young man,” Wei Wuxian told him.

Lan Sizhui chuckled and brightened as he repeated, “Thank you, Mo-qianbei.”

Wei Wuxian patted his shoulders before reluctantly letting go. “Go,” he said, shooing him away. “Go have fun, child.”

Lan Sizhui smiled, then he stepped back and bowed before he turned around and ran off to Lan Jingyi who stood with a gaping mouth and a confused stare. But when the boys joined, there was an excitement in their hushed whispers and a bounce in their steps as they walked away.

Wei Wuxian was one of their favorite celebrities, after all.

Lan Wangji watched the boys go, then he turned to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian was already looking at him, no less brightly than he had at Lan Sizhui.

And still, his eyes were shiny.

Quietly, he stepped closer and reached out to take Lan Wangji’s hand in both his own.

Lan Wangji wrapped his fingers around them, holding on tightly.

“You kept him,” Wei Wuxian said in a voice roughened by his unshed tears. “I thought you would hand him over to an orphanage or something, but you... you raised him.”

Lan Wangji nodded and said, “Mn. How else would I one day be able to reunite him with his savior?”

Selfishly, he had not wanted to let the child go. Before he had left, Wei Wuxian had cared for him as if he were his own, so Lan Wangji had done the same—treating Lan Sizhui as if he had been Wei Wuxian’s own until Lan Sizhui became his, too. He had not even entertained the idea of giving him away, not for a second.

“Pah,” Wei Wuxian said with a dismissive wave.

Lan Wangji grabbed that hand and held it close to his chest as he looked at him and said, “Do not deny it. Had it not been for you getting him and Wen-popo out, he would not have been here today. Wei Ying is a hero.”

A flush rose to Wei Wuxian’s face. With an aborted sound in his throat, he bowed his head to rest it against where his own hand was held to Lan Wangji’s chest. “Lan Zhan,” he whined. “You can’t just say things like that. My poor heart can’t take it. You should warn me first, you know! It’s only right.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said quietly. “I will warn you then.”

Wei Wuxian hummed in reply, but did not move.

They stood there a while, close and their hands growing damp as Wei Wuxian shed his joy.

Because Wei Wuxian was by his side most hours of the day, it was inevitable that Lan Qiren found out who was hiding on his ranch. Lan Wangji tried to delay it for as long as possible; dodging his uncle’s questions when he asked, using Wei Wuxian’s alias when needed, and leading Wei Wuxian elsewhere whenever his uncle came too close.

But he could only do so for a little over a week before the inevitable happened anyway.

They had just finished at the stables after their evening ride, Bichen and Little Apple put away for the day with the rest of the horses—some that had just returned after being away on set with Lan Xichen for two days. Lan Wangji was putting the lock on the barndoors when Wei Wuxian suddenly yelped and jumped behind him, grabbing onto him like a scared child as he ducked.

Lan Wangji was on alert immediately, arm out to hide Wei Wuxian. But when he turned around to see what had startled Wei Wuxian, there was no dog to be seen, only his uncle who did not look pleased as he stomped over toward them.

Lan Wangji did not lower his arm, only squared his shoulders and tried to hide Wei Wuxian further.

Before he even got close, Lan Qiren raised a pointed finger at them. “Wei—!”

Behind Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian raised a hand in the air as he called out, “It’s Mo Xuanyu, Lan-xiansheng!”

This only seemed to anger Lan Qiren further, his face turning red.

Privately, in his mind, Lan Wangji imagined smoke coming out of his uncles’ nostrils when he exhaled sharply.

When Lan Qiren came to a stop before them, Lan Wangji did not move and only puffed his chest out as if to prevent him from coming closer. As if to hide Wei Wuxian more, though Wei Wuxian was cowered down behind him and was hidden well enough.

Or so Lan Wangji thought, but Lan Qiren was glaring at his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian must be peeking over it.

Lan Wangji still did not move.

“Do you take me for a fool?” Lan Qiren asked rhetorically, anger in his voice. “How dare you come here!”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji interrupted and bowed his head at him. “This one takes full responsibility for Wei Ying.”

Behind him, Wei Wuxian tutted, slapped his back, and whispered, “Mo Xuanyu.”

But Lan Wangji did not correct himself. He would not lie.

It would be pointless anyway. His uncle would not be fooled.

“Wangji,” his uncle said in an exasperated sigh. “Jiang Fengmian is an old friend. It would be my duty to tell him where his son is hiding.”

“Or you could not!” Wei Wuxian said, peeking out once again. “He doesn’t want to see me, none of them do, so just pretend I’m not here! I’ll help out on the ranch or the farm as payment for letting me stay, and I won’t even complain, you have my word. My name is Mo Xuanyu anyway. Wei Wuxian who? Not me, haha!”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji said, ignoring Wei Wuxian. “Do not tell.”

Lan Qiren sighed again, clearly reluctant to relent. “Wangji,” he said again. “You know what he did. He cannot hide out here forever, not again. Do you remember last time? He will have to come out of hiding and accept the punishment he rightfully deserves.”

“I think the media has given me enough punishment already,” Wei Wuxian mumbled into Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren said, scoldingly. “Have you no sense of righteousness? You put your company, your family, to shame and then run off and left them to deal with it! Again! And then you have the audacity to come here again and put our business at risk too—again! How dare you! What would the Jiangs say if they knew we had been hiding you here? We will not be part of your scandal, not again!”

“Lan-xiansheng.” Wei Wuxian stepped out from behind Lan Wangji and said, “Is it wrong to stand up for what is right? When someone does something despicable, is it not morally right to speak up?”

“It is,” Lan Qiren said and lifted a finger, “and you were right in the past. But to break your brother-in-law’s nose at his own wedding and then spew nonsense about his family? What is morally right about that?”

“I made a scene,” Wei Wuxian said, “and I should not have. I should not have run out and spoken to the press either, because I was still angry and said things I should not have. But when someone speaks poorly of my family or anyone I care for, I will not sit quietly and let them get away with it. Jin Zixuan shouldn’t have either, nor should he have defended his shithead cousins.”

“Wei Wuxi—”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji interrupted. “He will not make trouble.”

Lan Qiren scoffed. “Wei Wuxian always makes trouble,” he said. “That is not a promise you can make for him.”

Beside him, Wei Wuxian lifted a hand in a three-fingered salute. “Lan Qiren, xiansheng,” he said, shoulders squared. “I promise that for as long as I stay here, this one will not make trouble. I will stay good. Lan Zhan can oversee my every move and make sure I don’t step out of line. You have my word.”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji said— begged.

Lan Qiren did not look happy. But when he sighed, he seemed to soften. “Fine,” he relented then. “But the second I sense trouble, I will call Jiang Fengmian and send you home. And if anyone asks, I will not lie about your whereabouts.”

Wei Wuxian clasped his hands and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Lan-xiansheng. I will not take your kindness for granted.”

Lan Qiren scoffed again, but then he turned around and stomped off the way he’d come. Lan Wangji waited until he was far enough away before he slowly allowed his shoulders to relax and a heavy sigh of relief to escape him.

In the past, his uncle would not have relented this quickly—or at all.

But the years had softened him, Lan Wangji knew.

Beside him, Wei Wuxian let out a heavy breath of his own and slumped against him. “Lan Zhan,” he whined into his shoulder. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I keep bringing here.”

“No trouble,” Lan Wangji said and meant it. “I am happy you are here.”

He could not see Wei Wuxian’s face for he had hidden it against his shoulder, but when Wei Wuxian exhaled sharply, Lan Wangji could imagine a smile on his lips. Wei Wuxian wound his arms around his middle, and Lan Wangji wrapped an arm around him in return, keeping him there.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whined into his arm. “You were supposed to warn me about these things.”

“Mn. I apologize.”

Against his arm, Wei Wuxian giggled. “But, er-gege,” he said quietly. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

Wei Wuxian had been here for just over a week, and he never spoke a word about leaving. Even now, he did not say for now or for the time being, and he had not told Lan Qiren how long he planned on staying.

But Lan Wangji was not foolish enough to believe he would stay forever.

Another week passed much the same.

Instead of merely following Lan Wangji around like a shadow clinging to his arm, Wei Wuxian started to help out on the ranch. He often joined the junior hands out on pasture while they trained the horses and though he was not an experienced rider, he still took on the role as their teacher like one would a coat; like it was as natural to him as breathing.

Sometimes, he even left Lan Wangji’s side entirely. This was often when Lan Wangji was called into his uncle’s office to do, as Wei Wuxian would put it, boring paperwork. Wei Wuxian did not join him during those times—not only because he found it boring but also because the one time he had joined, Lan Qiren had gotten annoyed with him and told him to get out.

Lan Wangji missed him terribly each time and afterward, he would step out of the office and look for him rather than follow his schedule. Most often, he found him playing with the juniors. But sometimes, he found him in the fields, pants and sleeves rolled up as he helped the farmers harvest rice and carry bucketloads over to get milled. And always, there was a smile on his lips and a certain brightness around him.

Wei Wuxian enjoyed himself there. It was clear as day.

And despite it, he abandoned his task the moment he noticed Lan Wangji and came running into his arms to give him a hug and then follow him around again, uncaring of his soaked pants and dirty feet and hands. Lan Wangji did not care either, taking one of those dirtied hands in his own and holding it tightly.

He did not want to let go.

But that was not a choice he could make, as it turned out.

It was three weeks into Wei Wuxian staying at Cloud Recesses when Lan Sizhui stopped by to tell him his uncle requested his presence in the main office. Lan Wangji nodded and turned to tell Wei Wuxian that he would see him later, but Lan Sizhui stopped him and corrected himself.

“Both of you,” he said—he sounded nervous.

Lan Wangji took his eyes off Wei Wuxian to look at Lan Sizhui with a question in his eye.

Lan Sizhui shrugged. There was a furrow in his brow; he did not know either.

“Both of us?” Wei Wuxian asked, equally as confused. “Well, that doesn’t bode well, does it?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed.

Hand in hand, they headed to the main house and into the office anyway.

When they arrived, a woman was there. A timid man sat on the opposite side of the desk where his uncle sat with papers lain out before him, but Lan Wangji did not look at either of them. His attention was drawn to the woman. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her hair in a high bun, and though her face was young, it held a sternness that briefly reminded him of Lan Sizhui’s grandmother.

That likeness did not wash away when she turned to meet his gaze as he stepped into the office’s wide opening with Wei Wuxian. It did, however, wash away when her eyes shifted away from him and widened as her mouth dropped open in surprise.

Lan Wangji frowned at her, a question on his lips.

But no question ever left his mouth, nor did it need to because, beside him, Wei Wuxian yelped and stiffened, the hand that held onto Lan Wangji tightening for a brief moment before letting go entirely.

“Wei Wuxian!” the woman exclaimed, lifting a pointed finger at him.

Ah. They knew each other.

Lan Wangji looked beside him to ask Wei Wuxian how—perhaps not with words but with a look—but when he looked, he saw only Wei Wuxian turning around and sprinting off.

“Wei Wuxian!” the woman repeated, now in an angry yell. “Don’t you run away from me, you bastard!”

Before anyone could say a word, she ran off after Wei Wuxian. She yelled at him, and he yelled back, though their words became more and more muffled and indistinguishable the further away they got. But neither of them quieted and their yelling continued to echo in the distance.

Lan Wangji stared after them, blinked. Then he turned to his uncle and the timid man, who slowly rose from his seat.

“Um,” he said, a nervous smile on his lips. “I’m— I’m sorry about my sister.”

Lan Qiren leaned heavily back in his chair and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “I take it they know each other,” he said and did not ask. The question would be reluctant. “Why does that not surprise me? That boy always gets us in trouble.”

“Ah.” The man chuckled nervously, fidgeting with his sleeves. “We haven’t, um. We haven’t seen him for— for a while. He ran away from home and my sister is quite upset with him. She w-w-won’t hurt him though!”

“As long as it doesn’t hurt our partnership,” Lan Qiren said, “I do not care what she does to him.”

Words of upset rested on Lan Wangji’s tongue. He bit them back and did not speak.

He did not get a chance to either because then Wei Wuxian came running back inside and scrambled to hide behind Lan Wangji, holding onto his back with a terrified whimper—though the whimper of a child about to get scolded, not a grown man in danger.

Lan Wangji stood still and let him hide, eyes on the woman as she came running in after him, a murderous look in her eyes. But not that of a killer, rather that of an older sister, perhaps.

No. This was not Jiang Yanli.

“Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian pleaded behind his back. “Please! Stop trying to beat me up!”

“You deserve a beating!” the woman—Wen Qing, it would seem—said. “You run away, to here of all places, and don’t even say a word about where you’re going! To anyone! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Your brother has been looking all over for you!”

Behind him, Wei Wuxian suddenly stilled. Then, he peeked up over Lan Wangji’s shoulder and asked, “A-Cheng has been looking for me?”

“Of course he has, idiot!” Wen Qing yelled. “What, did you think none of us would care that you disappeared?”

“I mean, kind of,” Wei Wuxian said quietly. “My disappearance saves everyone from more drama, right?”

With a heavy sigh, Wen Qing placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You’re an idiot,” she told him. She sounded angry, still, but she did not yell. “And what are you, five? Stop hiding behind your friend.”

Lan Wangji did not want to step aside or let Wen Qing get her hands on Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian quietly stepped around him anyway. He hung his head, brows furrowed and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

Lan Wangji clenched his fists and looked away before he could see Wei Wuxian look at Wen Qing with his eyes big and round. He looked at Wen Qing instead and saw her roll her eyes.

“Stop,” she said as she shook her head.

Beside him, Wei Wuxian sighed and stood up straight.

“Wen Qing,” he said. “I’m sorry for worrying you and my brother. But please don’t tell anyone where I am. The media hasn’t cooled down yet, so I can’t show my face around the company still. I won’t. I won’t be the cause of their downfall, or the reason business gets tough, especially not right when they’ve been doing so well. I can’t do that to them.”

“So you read the news,” Wen Qing said, after a beat.

“Of course I do,” Wei Wuxian said. “How could I not? I still care about them.”

“But not enough to answer your phone when your brother calls.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged and said, “I lost my phone. My donkey trampled it.”

“Your don— Whatever, I don’t care. Don’t tell me.”

Wei Wuxian huffed, and it sounded like a laugh.

Lan Wangji glanced at him and saw a smile resting on his lips. His eyes were bright too and had it not been for how he had looked at Lan Wangji just this morning as Lan Wangji drilled into him, Lan Wangji might have found himself jealous. But there were bruises in the shape of his own fingers on Wei Wuxian’s thighs, claiming him as his, so Lan Wangji was not.

That smile, however, disappeared in a blink when Wen Qing spoke again.

“Wei Wuxian,” she said, suddenly serious. “Jiang Yanli is pregnant.”

The silence that followed was heavy, deafening.

Quietly, in a breath, Wei Wuxian whispered, “What?”

“Your sister,” Wen Qing said, “is pregnant. She found out while your brother and your brother-in-law took weeks off work to try to find you, and they both had to return home to celebrate with her. If your donkey or whatever hadn’t trampled your phone, you would have known this because Jiang Cheng has been calling you every day for the past month. We all have.”

“My sister,” Wei Wuxian whispered quietly, so quiet only Lan Wangji could hear it because he stood close enough. “My sister is having a baby.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing continued, taking a step closer. “Would you please just go home already? You can’t keep running from the consequences of your actions like this.”

Wei Wuxian was quiet a moment, then he said, “If I have to see Jin Zixuan again, I—”

“Grow up,” Wen Qing interrupted sternly. “You apparently read the news, so you know he has already forgiven you for your stupidity at his wedding. Yes, his family sucks and while they will never learn their lesson, Jin Zixuan has. He holds no grudges and is willing to let it go. Why won’t you?”

Wei Wuxian was quiet for a moment, then he crossed his arms with a huff and looked away with a pout, like a little child. “He was an asshole to my sister,” he said. “On their wedding day, of all days! I was justified in my reaction.”

“I don’t disagree,” Wen Qing said, “but I do disagree with how you handled it—both after and now.”

“I handled it poorly, I know,” Wei Wuxian said. “But he deserved that. His family too! If he can’t defend my sister and treat her right, then he deserves to get his face punched in.”

Wen Qing sighed, rolling her eyes. “You are insufferable.”

“Don’t give me that,” Wei Wuxian said, jutting his chin at her. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the exact same for your brother. And you have! Worse too.”

Lan Wangji glanced over his shoulder when the timid man made a noise, as if he wanted to speak. But when he looked at him, the man was merely fidgeting with his sleeves and looking downward.

“I left my family,” Wen Qing said then, “because it was a horrible place to be. You helped me because it was the right thing to do. I’m not saying punching Jin Zixuan was the wrong thing to do. He deserved it. But go home, Wei Wuxian. Deal with the consequences, like I dealt with the ones that came with my decision.”

Wei Wuxian sighed, then, after a moment, he nodded and said, “You’re right. I should go home.”

Lan Wangji clenched his fists, swallowed his aching heart.

In all these weeks, Wei Wuxian had never spoken a word about leaving, though Lan Wangji knew that it was only a matter of time before he would. Lan Wangji had not let himself think of it and had instead let himself live in this dream of Wei Wuxian staying for good.

But the dream was ending, and his heart was aching.

He did not let his heartbreak show, nor would he allow himself to hate Wen Qing for convincing Wei Wuxian to leave. It was the right thing to do, Lan Wangji knew as much. But he was selfish and wanted him to stay, just a little longer.

Though he knew that a little longer would not be enough.

Nothing short of forever would.

Wei Wuxian turned then and clasped his hands in a bow. “Lan-xiansheng,” he said. “I apologize for the intrusion. This one won’t disturb you or your meeting further.”

Lan Qiren sighed and waved a hand dismissively. He mumbled something, though it was not coherent.

Wei Wuxian turned back around and took Lan Wangji’s hand in his own. When he started to walk back out the main house, Lan Wangji allowed himself to be pulled along, even as his uncle called out for him behind them. He did not want to stay, did not want to participate in this meeting.

They would have to figure it out on their own.

They walked to Lan Wangji’s cabin in unusual silence, never letting go of each other. It was only when they arrived and stepped in through the door that Wei Wuxian loosened his grip and let go. Lan Wangji did not want to, his fingers still reaching out for Wei Wuxian’s long after Wei Wuxian had stepped away from him.

After a moment, Lan Wangji let his hand fall to his side.

He stood in the door and did not move.

He watched as Wei Wuxian navigated through the cabin with ease, like it was his home. Lan Wangji had always kept his home clean, organized, fairly minimalistic. It was easier that way, to keep it clean. It had never quite mattered what it looked like, as long as it was clean and he knew where everything was.

Since Wei Wuxian had arrived, the cabin had become more and more crowded with things the longer he stayed. It was not quite messy because Lan Wangji did not let it get there, always picking up the clothes that Wei Wuxian threw around carelessly and always cleaning up the plates and bottles left on the table.

But there were things here now.

Pictures, drawings, books.

Clothes, warmth, a home.

A home where Wei Wuxian fit, neatly on the other side of Lan Wangji’s bed.

Lan Wangji stood there and watched as Wei Wuxian rummaged through the closet to pull out the bag he had brought when he’d arrived. It had long since been emptied with the clothes now hanging in the closet. But those too were removed and shoved into the bag, leaving the closet achingly bear with just Lan Wangji’s monotone clothes still hanging.

Lan Wangji could not bear it.

Quietly, he walked over and took Wei Wuxian’s wrist in hand to stop him.

Wei Wuxian stilled but did not look at him.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, then fell quiet. He did not have the words.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, quietly too. “Don’t make this difficult. Please.”

Lan Wangji tightened his grip and repeated, “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian whirled around and stepped into his space. He dropped his head against Lan Wangji’s chest and curled his slender fingers—still dirty after running through the rice fields earlier—into the shirt covering it. He stood there, tense and unmoving.

Then, quietly and tightly, he whispered, “I have to leave. I have to.”

Lan Wangji exhaled and said, “I know.”

“Don’t hate me,” Wei Wuxian said. “Everyone else hating me, I can take that. But I can’t take Lan Zhan hating me. It would break me apart.”

“I could never hate you,” Lan Wangji said, and it was not a lie.

Wei Wuxian lifted his head and looked up at him with bright, tearful eyes. “This is the second time I leave you,” he said tightly. “How could you not?”

Lan Wangji placed a gentle hand against Wei Wuxian’s cheek. He said, “I love you too much to ever hate you, Wei Ying. Even when your choices hurt me.”

Wei Wuxian smiled at him, though it did not look happy. “Aiya, Lan Zhan,” he sniffled. “I thought I told you to warn me before saying things like that.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. “You did. I apologize.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head shortly. “Don’t,” he said. “I don’t want to talk. What are we getting sad for anyway? I’m not staying away forever, I could never! Lan Zhan can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” Lan Wangji said. The thought alone made him want to puke.

“Good,” Wei Wuxian said. “Because I am coming back. Once I’ve sorted everything out with my family and let the media whip me some more, I will come back. Maybe you will leave Cloud Recesses too and we can run away together, won’t we, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn. Whatever Wei Ying wants.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled, then he hummed and said, “It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? Just the two of us, running around the world with nothing to bind us.”

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji had dreamt of it for over a decade.

He wanted it, wanted nothing more.

They stood in silence for a moment, merely looking at each other.

Then, Wei Wuxian whispered quietly, “Kiss me, Lan Zhan.”

And Lan Wangji complied.

He kissed him and it was not as instantly heated and desperate as so many of the other kisses they had shared over the past few weeks, but it was no less firm, no less loving. He took Wei Wuxian’s face in his hands as he kissed him slowly, savoring every moment and every taste and trying to memorize the shape of his lips against his own.

Against his lips, Wei Wuxian sighed and allowed his breath to be stolen away with each pass of their lips. He did not seem to mind the pace at which they kissed—slow and unhurried—as if he too wanted to memorize it. Lan Wangji would not let him forget.

Lan Wangji could stay there for hours, kissing him like this, until Wei Wuxian was nothing but puddy in his hands. And he wanted to too, if only it meant Wei Wuxian would stay here for hours or even an eternity.

But their time was limited and while Lan Wangji did not want to be reminded of it, Wei Wuxian did anyway when he suddenly grabbed his shoulders and, without breaking their kiss, jumped up to wrap his legs around his waist.

Instinctively, Lan Wangji caught him, hands underneath him to keep him lifted.

Wei Wuxian wound his arms around his neck and tilted his head, parting his lips to beckon Lan Wangji’s tongue into his mouth. Lan Wangji could do nothing but follow that luring tongue and lick into his mouth, his hands tightening their grip on Wei Wuxian’s bottom just to get him to moan between their lips.

Distantly, Lan Wangji noted there were hands in his hair undoing his braid, though he could note little other than the growing hardness rubbing against his stomach as Wei Wuxian ground against him, pushing against the hands on his ass.

Distantly, Lan Wangji noted he too was growing hard.

This was no surprise. Wei Wuxian did not have to do much to affect Lan Wangji in this way.

Distantly, the heartbreak of this potentially being the last time he would have him like this tucked itself away, and Lan Wangji focused only on sucking on Wei Wuxian’s tongue and biting into his lip.

After mere moments, Wei Wuxian breathed against his lips. “Er-gege... bed.”

And Lan Wangji complied, carrying him to the bed they had shared for weeks now.

He took him there and stripped him of his clothes, his own following close behind, and he did not bother to put them away nicely but merely threw them across the room where they landed somewhere on the floor. He did not care. He wanted his hands on Wei Wuxian’s body, to mark him anew and make sure those marks would linger so long that Wei Wuxian would not forget him, even weeks after he had left.

And that, he did.

With two slick fingers buried down to the knuckle inside Wei Wuxian’s aching hole, Lan Wangji bit marks onto his inner thighs where bruises and old marks had already started to fade. He sucked hickeys and sunk his unbusy fingers into those slender legs, that pale skin, enough to bruise as he had many times before. And Wei Wuxian’s body took to him like a coloring book, marked only by his pen.

Underneath him, Wei Wuxian moaned and sobbed.

Lan Wangji glanced up the length of his body and saw the tears spill from the corners of his eyes, his mouth hanging open with drool slipping out, though he seemed to not care. He looked a mess, a beautiful and wonderful mess with his twitching cock weeping onto his stomach at each curl of Lan Wangji’s fingers, each bite, each suck, each bruising grip.

Lan Wangji held his gaze as he opened his mouth and licked his way up Wei Wuxian’s inner thigh, already freshly marked—and yet it was not enough.

Wei Wuxian shivered as he went up, moaned lewdly and arched his back.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered in a high-pitched whine, toes curling where his legs rested over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Lan-er-gege... be nice to your A-Xian... be nice...”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed while he mouthed at his sack. “I will be nice.”

“Ahaaaa,” Wei Wuxian moaned, head thrown back as Lan Wangji licked up the length of his weeping cock. “Ah, Lan— Lan Zhan! This doesn’t—doesn’t feel very nice... you’re mean, so mean. So cruel to me... using just your fin— oh!”

Lan Wangji curled his fingers, just right, and Wei Wuxian arched his back and gasped.

He did not come, not yet, but his cock wept slick against Lan Wangji’s lips.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian sobbed, hands clenched in the sheets below him. “Er-gege, please... mercy... I can’t— it’s too much...”

It’s not enough, Lan Wangji knew this meant.

With his lips wrapped around his cock, he added a third finger—not slicked because Wei Wuxian was slick enough already though they had barely used lube—and listened to the melody of Wei Wuxian’s moans as they got breathier, higher, more broken as Lan Wangji sunk down, down, down on his cock.

Lan Wangji swirled his tongue around the weeping head, and Wei Wuxian shook as he moaned.

He was close, his cock twitching and leaking into Lan Wangji’s mouth.

Lan Wangji took him all the way to the base, then bobbed his head—once, twice—as he shoved his fingers deep inside Wei Wuxian’s clenching hole and curled them just right. It made Wei Wuxian gasp and one of the hands that had been clutching the bedsheet left to grab onto Lan Wangji’s head where fingers curled into his loose hair.

“Lan Zha—aahh!”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes. He wanted to hear Wei Wuxian say his name like this, forever.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zha—ah! Please... cruel... mercy... ah—haaa, I’m gonna—Lan Zha—I’m, ah!”

A lewd moan sung into Lan Wangji’s ears as Wei Wuxian bucked desperately against him. Only a second later did he tense and then shake as he came. Lan Wangji sucked him through it, swallowing as Wei Wuxian released into his mouth and allowing himself to moan around him.

He did not want to forget this taste, this feeling of Wei Wuxian clutching at him as he came.

Because of him.

Slowly, Lan Wangji pulled back and let Wei Wuxian’s spent cock fall from his mouth to rest against Wei Wuxian’s clenching stomach. He was still shaking with his orgasm, heaving breaths and a distant look in his eyes. But those eyes were on Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji held that gaze as he settled himself between Wei Wuxian’s spread legs and removed his fingers from his quivering hole.

With one hand under Wei Wuxian’s knee to hold his leg up, Lan Wangji wrapped a hand around his own untouched and forgotten cock and guided himself into Wei Wuxian’s waiting heat. It was easy to slip into him, his hole slick and open and sucking him in like a hungry beast, and he delighted in the broken whimper that escaped Wei Wuxian as he slammed inside.

On his stomach, Wei Wuxian’s spent cock twitched and wept.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian moaned below him. “Oh, Lan Zhan... you’re so big... you’ll have ruined my poor hole for anyone else.”

Lan Wangji grabbed at the meat of his thigh, a little too tightly.

“Wei Ying,” he said as he leaned over him, hips flush against Wei Wuxian’s bottom, cock nestled inside him like a puzzle piece; fitting perfectly. “Only me. You are mine.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian breathed, his hands coming up to cup Lan Wangji’s face and his marked legs lifting to wrap around his waist. “Only you, only Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan... say it again.”

“Mine,” Lan Wangji said and bucked his hips.

In a moan, Wei Wuxian said, “Again.”

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Eventually, Lan Wangji fucked into him earnestly, harshly, roughly.

Wei Wuxian had wrapped himself around him, legs and arms tightly around his waist and neck respectively. His hands were in his hair, fingers curled tightly as Lan Wangji bit across his chest, leaving marks in his wake and sucking on those pert nipples when Wei Wuxian pushed against him invitingly.

In his ears, Wei Wuxian moaned lewdly and loudly with each thrust into him. Lan Wangji wanted it to last, wanted to stay here for hours and hours and make Wei Wuxian stay. He wanted to, but it did not take long before a heat started to build low in his stomach and with it, his thrusts became erratic, less calculated and more desperate as he chased after his release.

“That’s it,” Wei Wuxian breathed into his ear, voice raw. “That’s it... fuck me, er-gege. Fill me up, all the way... ah-haa, mark me up... mark me inside too. Lan Zhan... Lan—oh! Lan Zhan! Make me yours, make me yours, make me—mark me inside, er-gege...”

With a rough thrust forward, Lan Wangji buried himself deep within him and came with a grunt. He spilled into him, bucking his hips as he came and came and came, filling him up until it leaked out of his hole.

Below him, Wei Wuxian moaned and praised him and tightened his legs around him to keep him deep inside, even after Lan Wangji stopped moving and his spent cock started to soften. He did not have to. Lan Wangji put his weight onto him to pin him to the mattress and did not move, merely breathed against Wei Wuxian’s neck.

He would not pull out anytime soon.

He wanted to keep his seed inside Wei Wuxian as long as he could.

Still connected, Lan Wangji moved up to bracket Wei Wuxian’s head between his arms and kissed him again. Lazy, lingering, sated kisses that were all returned in kind as they breathed together.

Lan Wangji wanted to stay here for a while, for an eternity.

Just the two of them.

But they had not been there for very long before there was a knock on the door.

“Wangji?”

In the end, Wei Wuxian left with Wen Qing and her brother.

It was not a tearful goodbye nor was it a particularly affectionate one that lingered, reluctant to let go, not like the goodbye they had shared in that bed. It would not be, not when they were around others.

Wei Wuxian hugged him, and Lan Wangji hugged him back as tightly as he could without being inappropriate, though he wanted to hug him so tightly their ribs merged. But all he could do was wrap his arms tightly around Wei Wuxian’s middle and close his eyes as he buried his face in his neck and breathed him in, just to remember his scent a little longer.

When Wei Wuxian stepped back, Lan Wangji reluctantly let him, his hands lingering on his hips until Wei Wuxian stepped out of his space. Lan Wangji wanted to pull him back, it was so cold with the space between them. But Wei Wuxian kept stepping back, a wobbly smile on his lips.

Then he turned around, got into Wen Qing’s car, and drove off with them.

Just like that.

Lan Wangji watched them drive off with his brother by his side and a bundle of curious juniors neglecting their chores to watch them too. He stood there a long while and did not move even when Lan Xichen grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

His brother did not say a word, nor did he need to; the squeeze said it all. And when he left, it was with a lingering touch that mean I’m here if for you, if you need me.

Lan Wangji did not respond. He found himself unable to move.

He did not know how long he stood there, staring into the empty horizon. But it must have been long enough for everyone else to leave and return to their scheduled routine—or perhaps Lan Xichen had ordered them to, shooing them away, though Lan Wangji had not heard him say a word.

Everyone had left. All, except one.

Lan Sizhui stepped up beside him and slipped a hand into his. He squeezed and leaned his head against his shoulder, still too short to reach further. Lan Wangji curled his fingers around his hand and squeezed back, gently, but he did not look away.

“Will he come back?” Lan Sizhui asked quietly, after a minute.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, though he did not know.

Lan Sizhui hummed in turn, then said, “He will come back.”

As if saying it out loud meant it would come true.

But weeks passed, and there was nothing but silence.

Lan Wangji did not receive a text nor a call, not even a letter.

He could not get himself to check the tabloids, afraid of what he might find. He had never quite cared to, always relying on Lan Sizhui and the other juniors to tell him about whatever news was stirring, because they did care to check and did so religiously.

They still did, as frequently as ever, but none of them came to him about any of it.

Each day, there was a sad look on Lan Sizhui’s face when Lan Wangji approached.

And each day, Lan Wangji patted his head and did not speak—

—though his heart broke at what that sad look could mean.

It cracked and broke, a little more each passing day.

He went through the motions of his strict schedule with little present thought. It kept him busy, occupied, though it did little to heal his heart. He did his work anyway because there was little else for him to do, and every evening, right before the sun went down, he took Bichen and Little Apple out on the trails, hoping to bump into a man with bright eyes and a brighter smile.

But they never did.

Months passed in this way.

The marks down Lan Wangji’s back had long faded and his bed was cold each night. He did not sleep well but did not let it affect his work around the ranch. He still trained the horses, still oversaw the juniors as they did the same, still made spreadsheets to categorize and organize each horses’ care when they went off to sets with Lan Xichen.

He was still an important factor on the ranch, though he cared little for it.

He wanted to mount Bichen, take Little Apple on a lead, and ride to the Jiang building in the Hubei province. He wanted to take Wei Wuxian with him and leave it all behind, make sure he would never leave him alone again.

But he did not. He could not.

And so, he spent months in a haze and was prepared to spend another decade in it too.

He would wait multiple decades or even a lifetime, if he had to.

If only Wei Wuxian came back to him eventually.

It was a regular weekday when Lan Wangji was called into his uncle’s office, many months later.

He was in the stables fixing up a horse’s hooves, cleaning and polishing them to get the horse ready for its upcoming trip, when Lan Xichen called out for him with a smile that had not been this happy when directed at him in many weeks.

Lan Wangji approached him cautiously, to which his brother’s smile only grew.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, happily. “Uncle requests your presence at the office. We have a new buyer and potential business partner, it would seem.”

Lan Wangji nodded and said, “Mn.”

This was not unusual, so he did not understand why Lan Xichen looked at him in this way. But he thought little of it as he made his way to the main house where he passed a group of juniors running away, giggling. Among them was Lan Sizhui and when they passed by each other, he smiled at him, wide like Lan Xichen had too.

Lan Wangji frowned but stepped into the office without question anyway.

And then he froze, breath caught in his throat.

Wei Wuxian stood in the middle of the room. There were other people in the room too, but Lan Wangji paid them no mind, because Wei Wuxian turned to him and then smiled at him so brightly and brilliantly, it made the past couple days’ worth of rain seem unimportant.

He wanted to go to him, wanted to take him in his hands and make sure he was real, that he was truly here and not a trick of his mind.

But before he could unfreeze himself and move, his uncle spoke.

“Wangji,” he said sharply, cutting through the air like a sword.

Reluctantly and with effort, Lan Wangji tore his gaze off Wei Wuxian to look at his uncle. Lan Qiren was already looking at him, a stern look on his face that told him to behave. It was only then that Lan Wangji noticed the man sitting across from him.

He was young, perhaps around his own and Wei Wuxian’s age, but there was an air to him that radiated the stubbornness of a boy that had been forced to grow up much too fast. He sat with his back straight and his body turned to them, his brows sitting in a heavy furrow above his displeased eyes and wrinkled nose.

Lan Wangji straightened and returned the displeased look with one of his own.

Before him, Wei Wuxian tutted and smacked the back of the man’s head. “Jiang Cheng,” he said, scoldingly. “Stop glaring like that. This is a business meeting. What would Madam Yu say if she could see you glare daggers at your future business partners, huh?”

The man—Jiang Cheng, the heir to Lotus Pier, China’s biggest entertainment company, and Wei Wuxian’s brother—grumbled unintelligently and turned around with a huff, but Lan Wangji did not pay him any more mind. He looked at Wei Wuxian, his heart galloping in his chest.

“Business partners?” he asked quietly, hopefully.

Wei Wuxian turned to him with that brilliant smile again, bright and toothy on his lips.

“Business partners,” he said, like they were the best words in the world, and, in that moment, Lan Wangji agreed. “Lotus Pier has greenlit a bunch of big historical dramas, so they are going to need a whole lot of horses to work with. And what better place to get perfectly trained horses than Cloud Recesses? There is no better place and no better horses, is what I say.”

“You sold it well,” Jiang Cheng said, voice low as if he tried to be quiet though he failed, “but I know you have ulterior motives.”

“Nonsense!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, dramatically. “I would never do such a thing.” He turned and winked at Lan Wangji as he, in a lowered voice, said, “Right, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji looked at him, heart in his throat. Quietly, he said, “Mn.”

“Whatever the case,” Lan Qiren said in a heaved sigh as he leaned forward and clasped his hands on his desk, “we would be happy to do business with Lotus Pier again. Jiang Fengmian is an old friend, I would not turn him down. And we happen to have a few handfuls of horses ready to get back to work soon, so your timing is... good.”

He paused, shot Lan Wangji a glance.

It was quick, but Lan Wangji caught it anyway.

“However,” Lan Qiren continued, “there will need to be a handler on set. We do this with all our horses. It is for safety, for both actors and horses. Usually, I would recommend my nephew, Lan Xichen, for the job. But he has unfortunately gotten... busy.”

Lan Wangji frowned. He was not aware of this.

“For that reason,” Lan Qiren said, “I recommend my other nephew, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji blinked at him.

It was not the first time his uncle had recommended him for hands-on jobs such as this, but it was the first time in a long time because Lan Wangji did not enjoy the job. He had done it all throughout his teens and early twenties because he was good with the horses, but for the past decade, his job had been on the ranch and nowhere else.

For him to do it now, for this contract and this business partner...

Lan Xichen was never too busy for these kinds of jobs. He loved these jobs, thrived in them. Lan Wangji was not too slow to realize that this was planned, and it made something sing in his chest.

His uncle had gotten even softer in these months, it would seem.

“We’ll take him!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, raising a hand needlessly.

On the chair, Jiang Cheng groaned as he rubbed his temple.

On the other side of the desk, Lan Qiren closed his eyes and exhaled roughly.

But Lan Wangji did not look at either of them.

His eyes were on Wei Wuxian as Wei Wuxian turned to him with a smile that lit up his whole face, happiness radiating off him. Lan Wangji wanted to bask in it, wanted to lean in and take him in his arms once again.

“If Lan Zhan will have me,” Wei Wuxian said, then shook himself and corrected, “Uh, us! If he will have us, haha. Of course.”

Lan Wangji felt ready to explode.

“Mn,” he said quietly. “I will.”

I will have you, any day.

Wei Wuxian smiled impossibly wider, and it was all Lan Wangji wanted to look at.

An agreement was made, and a contract was drawn up. It was not yet signed because Jiang Cheng wanted to take it with him to have their company lawyers look it over first. It was standard procedure, though there were rarely any issues with their contracts, so the deal was as good as made.

As he left the main house and walked through the ranch, Lan Wangji felt like he was walking on clouds. He was not quite sure he was awake.

It did not help that Wei Wuxian walked next to him, so close they were just shy of touching.

That too felt like a dream, and he did not want to wake up.

Lan Wangji was silent as they walked, eyes never leaving the man beside him. Wei Wuxian was talking the whole way, though not to him. A group of junior hands had been waiting outside the main house and had been all over him the moment they exited. Lan Wangji did not scold them or tell them to return to their chores, because Wei Wuxian visibly brightened, and Lan Wangji did not want to dim it.

So, he allowed them to tag along and kept his hands curled into fists behind his back, swallowing the urge to reach out and touch.

“Wei-qianbei!” Lan Jingyi said, a little down the path, forgoing Wei Wuxian’s alias. “You left so quickly, we didn’t even get to say goodbye! Some of us were afraid you wouldn’t even come back at all.”

Some, Lan Wangji knew, meant him.

Wei Wuxian chuckled and said, “Aw, little ducklings. Did you miss me that much? Well, no need to worry. This one always comes back.” Over the heads of the juniors, he met Lan Wangji’s gaze, his smile softening as he asked, “Don’t I, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji nodded and said, “Mn.”

“But how?” Lan Sizhui asked, from where he walked by Lan Wangji’s side. “Baba said— I mean. We were told your family wouldn’t let you leave again, most likely. Because you... cause issues.”

“Ah.” Wei Wuxian laughed, an airy chuckle. “I did cause issues and for a while, my family didn’t let me leave. Your baba was right about that. But I’m sneaky, you see. I fixed the issue, at least for the most part, and I’m allowed to work with the company again because I’ve brought in a good partnership now. Do you know how hard it is to find good ranches with good horses that can work on movie sets? A lot harder than one would think! But it’s good I know the best place then, huh?”

“Mn!” Lan Sizhui said excitedly, clutching onto Lan Wangji’s sleeve. Lan Wangji did not know if he was excited for himself or for him. “So, you will stay?”

“I will visit,” Wei Wuxian said and met Lan Wangji’s eyes again. “Often, hopefully. I will have to talk with the head of the company first, make sure we’re good... so long as I don’t talk to the public, I imagine, at least for a while. And maybe,” he continued, looking at the juniors again, “you could all visit and come see a real movie set one day too!”

That got an immediate reaction out of them all.

Several of them jumped and exclaimed excitedly, loud enough to earn a scolding stare from one of the older hands they passed by, though none of them seemed to care. Lan Sizhui was not part of this exclamation, but with a final squeeze of Lan Wangji’s arm, he let go and herded the gaggling juniors away.

Over his shoulder, Lan Sizhui smiled at Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji nodded his thanks in return.

The juniors would not be returning to their chores, he knew.

He would have to discipline them, but that was for later.

For now, he turned to Wei Wuxian and met his smile with one of his own.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said softly. “I told you I would come back. Didn’t I?”

Lan Wangji nodded, heart hammering. “Mn,” he said. “You did.”

“And I always keep my promises,” Wei Wuxian said as he sauntered into his space. “Especially promises made to Lan Zhan. Can’t break those promises. That would be like going against the heavens themselves and if that ever happens, I hope they strike me down—”

“No,” Lan Wangji interrupted quickly. “Wei Ying would be forgiven.”

He had to, because the mere imaginary thought of Wei Wuxian being taken away from him for a simple mistake... Lan Wangji could not bear it, even if it was nothing but mere fantasy.

A faint red color rose onto Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to hide his smile though it did little to. He stepped closer and when he reached out and touched his hand, Lan Wangji held it out for him and let their fingers intertwine in a loose grip.

Loose, because Wei Wuxian was stepping closer, so there was no need to pull him in.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said quietly, just for his ears. “We will see each other a lot more now. Won’t we?”

“Mn.”

“Good. That makes me very happy.”

“Mn. Me too,” though that was an understatement.

In a minute, Wei Wuxian would ask him about Little Apple, and Lan Wangji would take him to the stables where Little Apple had gotten fat from being fed too many apples. And Wei Wuxian would laugh until he nearly keeled over, so loud and brilliantly that Lan Wangji had to kiss him.

In a few minutes, he would pin Wei Wuxian to a wall in the stables and kiss him senseless, while Wei Wuxian grabbed at him, pulled at him, tried to merge their bodies together, much like Lan Wangji tried to do the same as he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him...

And in an hour, when they were just breathing the same air, they would both smile.

Because there was an opening for them, a future meant for them both. Together.

In a year—a year spent traveling back and forth and working together with the horses and little drama—Lan Wangji would go to his knee with a ring, and Wei Wuxian would cry and say the best word in the world.

In a year, they would be together and never apart again.

But for now, Lan Wangji stood in the middle of Cloud Recesses, under the afternoon sun, and took Wei Wuxian in his arms. And he did not let go nor would he have to, because Wei Wuxian wound himself around him with arms that squeezed his promise to not let him let go.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, buried his face in Wei Wuxian’s neck, and breathed in.

Wei Wuxian was here, and Lan Wangji was home.