Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, basking in the warm sunlight. As the god of death and ruler of the underworld, he was usually content to stay in his palace in Yiling and see to his duties, but every now and then it was nice to travel above ground and enjoy the fresh air.
Tucked into the speckled shade of a large tree, Wei Wuxian idly dozed and listened to the soft sounds of nature that surrounded him. Though his domain was death, or perhaps even because of it, Wei Wuxian felt he had a stronger appreciation for life than most. He could sense every flicker, every heartbeat, from the ants crawling in a line through the grass to the birds soaring overhead. One day, they would all make the journey to Yiling and would belong to him, but for now they simply were, and Wei Wuxian found that oddly comforting.
After a while, relaxation began to fade into boredom, so Wei Wuxian hopped down from his branch and decided to wander through the area. The forest was lush, as of yet untouched by human hands, so he was surprised when the faint notes of a guqin fell upon his ears. Curious, Wei Wuxian followed the tranquil music. Maybe it was his imagination, but it almost felt like the song was drawing him closer, pulling at something deep within his soul.
The trees opened up into a small clearing, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. A young man sat in the middle of the meadow, his posture perfect as elegant fingers danced across the guqin’s strings. Everything about him screamed of grace and poise, from his pristine white robes to the serene expression on his face, which looked like it was carved from white jade. A long, white ribbon embroidered with clouds wrapped around his forehead and trailed down his back, weaving through his long, black hair.
But it wasn’t just his appearance that made Wei Wuxian stop and stare. As the melody echoed through the clearing, the very earth itself came alive. Starting where the man sat and spreading outwards, the grass became more vibrant and flowers bloomed into existence. A withering bush near Wei Wuxian perked up and sprouted thick, green leaves while its branches dipped low with fruit. In a matter of minutes, the area was bursting with life.
Wei Wuxian had never seen anything quite so beautiful.
The song came to an end, though the man remained seated in the lotus position, his eyes closed, perhaps in meditation. Wei Wuxian considered leaving him be, but quickly discarded the idea.
“That was amazing!” he said, stepping out of his hiding place with a grin.
The young man’s eyes snapped open, and Wei Wuxian soon found himself pinned beneath an intense, golden gaze. He quickly shook it off, however, and continued to walk closer.
“You’re Hanguang-jun, aren’t you?” he asked, plopping down beside the other man in a much less dignified sprawl. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before.”
Wei Wuxian had seen him a couple of times in the past when the gods gathered together for business or pleasure, but they never spoke face-to-face. Of course, even if Wei Wuxian had never set eyes upon him before, he still would have known who he was from reputation alone.
Lan Wangji, also known as Hanguang-jun, the god of vegetation. His power to bring new life to the earth was rivaled only by his cold beauty and sense of righteousness. Even compared to other gods, Lan Wangji was considered aloof and untouchable.
Seeing him up close for the first time, Wei Wuxian was struck by the desire to ruffle that perfect persona. Still, he didn’t want to drive Lan Wangji away when they’d only just met, so he resisted the urge. Jiang Cheng would be proud.
“I’m Wei Wuxian,” he added when Lan Wangji didn’t respond.
The introduction was for politeness more than anything. Wei Wuxian had quite the reputation himself, and he doubted Lan Wangji had the same problem with remembering faces that he did.
Sure enough, Lan Wangji’s pale gold eyes swept up and down Wei Wuxian’s form, taking in his black and red robes, the red ribbon that bound his hair into a ponytail, and the black lacquered flute at his waist, before giving him a tiny nod.
“I know who you are,” Lan Wangji confirmed. “The Yiling Patriarch.”
“Yes, yes, that’s me,” Wei Wuxian agreed cheerfully.
The other god regarded him for a long moment before asking, “What brings you to the surface?”
“Ah, nothing in particular,” Wei Wuxian said. Inwardly, a small part of him was thrilled that the illustrious Hanguang-jun, known for being quite anti-social, was talking to him. “I love Yiling, but it can get a bit gloomy after a while, so I like to come up here and get some sun.”
Lan Wangji nodded, seeming to accept this answer. When he didn’t say anything else, Wei Wuxian continued, “Then I heard your guqin, and thought that surely whoever was playing such beautiful music must be beautiful themselves! And it seems I was right.”
He shot Lan Wangji a cheeky wink. Lan Wangji’s eyebrow gave the tiniest twitch before he suddenly stood up and started to walk away. Surprised, Wei Wuxian quashed his disappointment and jumped up to follow him.
“Wait, where are you going?” he pouted. “If I offended you, I didn’t mean to. I was just joking.”
Well, half joking.
Lan Wangji paused for the briefest second before continuing on.
“Not offended,” he said.
“Really?” Wei Wuxian asked skeptically.
Lan Wangji nodded. “I must attend to my duties.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian caught up and walked beside him. “Can I join you?”
The other god shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say no, so Wei Wuxian happily tagged along as they traversed the forest, stopping now and then for Lan Wangji to play his guqin and revitalize the area. All the while, Wei Wuxian kept up a steady stream of chatter. He didn’t get much response besides the occasional, “Mn,” but that was okay, since Wei Wuxian could talk more than enough for both of them.
“And then it turned out he was the one who had been following her the whole time,” Wei Wuxian said, waving his arms. “The whole thing was just a huge misunderstanding. But once everything was out in the open, they finally confessed their feelings to each other. It all worked out in the end.”
“You should not meddle in the affairs of mortals,” Lan Wangji stated. “It is forbidden.”
Blinking, Wei Wuxian frowned, irked that the first full sentence he’d gotten from the other god in over an hour was a chastisement.
“I wasn’t meddling,” he said indignantly. “I was helping them. They even invited me to their wedding afterwards!”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji did not look convinced.
“Besides, gods meddle with humans all the time,” Wei Wuxian pointed out, “and usually with much less pure intentions.”
Jin Guangshan, the god of wealth, was particularly notorious for seducing mortal women behind his wife’s back, resulting in who knew how many demi-gods scattered throughout the world.
Perhaps Lan Wangji was thinking along the same lines, because his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. “Inappropriate.”
“Sometimes, yes,” Wei Wuxian nodded. “But sometimes it’s nice to mingle with mortals without their knowledge. It’s fun and gives you a sense of humility.”
“Deception is immoral.”
“Maybe, but if you don’t hide your identity, the mortals will treat you like a god and you’ll never know what they really think.”
“Deception is immoral,” Lan Wangji repeated firmly.
“Oh, don’t be such a fuddy-duddy,” Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. “What, you’ve never talked to humans who don’t know who you are?”
When Lan Wangji didn’t reply, he tilted his head.
“Or is it,” he said slowly, “that you’ve never talked to humans period?”
Stiffly, Lan Wangji said, “Meddling with the affairs of mortals is forbidden.”
He blinked in surprise when Wei Wuxian started laughing.
“Well, now we have to go meet some humans!” he said. With a wide grin, Wei Wuxian grabbed Lan Wangji’s arm. “Come on, come on! There’s a town not too far from here.”
Frowning, Lan Wangji pulled away. “No.”
“Aw, why not?” Wei Wuxian pouted. “It’ll be a learning experience. Don’t worry,” he shot the other god a smirk through his eyelashes, “I’ll be with you to make sure nothing bad happens.”
“No,” Lan Wangji gritted out.
“Oh, fine,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “But mark my words, I’ll wear you down eventually. One of these days, we’ll disguise ourselves as mortals and get a drink together! We can pretend to be cultivators, and see if anyone needs help. It’ll be fun!”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji said noncommittally.
Wei Wuxian chose to take that as a yes.
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, and before they knew it dusk settled across the horizon. Soon they would have to part ways, Wei Wuxian to return to Yiling while Lan Wangji would go back to the Cloud Recesses, a magical palace that floated high up in the sky above Gusu. Wei Wuxian had never seen it, but he knew Lan Wangji lived there with his brother Lan Xichen, the god of music and empathy, and their uncle Lan Qiren, the god of grain and sacred law.
Come to think of it, that explained a lot.
When the last notes of his song faded, Lan Wangji dematerialized his guqin and peered up at the twilight sky.
“I must go,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” Wei Wuxian nodded. “But, um, could I visit you again sometime?”
Lan Wangji’s face remained stoic, though his eyes flicked away. A hollow pit began to form in Wei Wuxian’s stomach. Perhaps he’d taken his teasing too far, perhaps Lan Wangji put up with him all day out of politeness and was now relieved to finally be rid of him.
“If you wish.”
“Eh?” Wei Wuxian said, drawn out of his spiral.
Those pale gold eyes met his own gray ones once more. Lan Wangji didn’t repeat himself, but he didn’t need to. A wide grin spread across Wei Wuxian’s lips.
“Oooh, does Hanguang-jun like me after all?” he teased. “I knew it! You like me, don’t you?”
A single sleek eyebrow twitched, fanning the flames of mischief in Wei Wuxian’s heart. He knew the smart thing would be to quit while he was ahead, but he just couldn’t help himself.
“You liiiike me,” he sang. “You loooove me. You wanna marry meeee.”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji snapped.
He spun on his heel and stormed away. Wei Wuxian cheerfully waved at his retreating back.
“Bye, Hanguang-jun!” he called. “See you later!”
Lan Wangji disappeared between the trees without looking back, but Wei Wuxian wasn’t discouraged. There was something about Lan Wangji that drew him like a moth to a flame, some kind of intuition that despite their differences the two of them were kindred spirits, and could be good friends one day. Breaking through the other god’s icy exterior would be difficult, but Wei Wuxian had never turned down a challenge.
-----
For the next several weeks, Wei Wuxian went up to the surface every chance he got to seek out Lan Wangji and bother him. Almost every day as Lan Wangji travelled the world bringing life back to the earth, Wei Wuxian could be found following the other god and talking his ear off. The only time he fell silent was when Lan Wangji stopped to play his guqin, each song as lovely as the last, but as soon as Lan Wangji was finished and ready to move on, Wei Wuxian picked up their one-sided conversation like it had never stopped in the first place.
For the most part, Lan Wangji seemed to ignore him. Occasionally, he would shoot Wei Wuxian looks of annoyance or disapproval before quickly composing his face back into its blank mask, but those little flashes were what kept Wei Wuxian going. They were proof that there was a real person underneath that frosty facade, and Wei Wuxian was determined to drag him out into the light.
Not to mention getting a rise out of Lan Wangji was the most fun he’d had in decades.
One day, Lan Wangji was being particularly stubborn in pretending Wei Wuxian didn’t exist, and Wei Wuxian, in turn, made himself extra annoying.
“Hanguang-jun, pay attention to me,” he whined.
Lan Wangji ignored him and continued walking up the mountain path. Undaunted, Wei Wuxian skipped ahead and spun around to walk backwards, trying to catch Lan Wangji’s eye.
“Hanguang-jun,” he tried again.
Lan Wangji turned his head to avoid Wei Wuxian’s gaze.
“Lan Wangji.”
No response.
“Lan Er-gege.”
More silence. Wei Wuxian pouted, then his eyes lit up.
“Lan Zhan~,” he sang.
Lan Wangji’s head whipped around to glare at him, and Wei Wuxian’s stomach swooped with delight. He hadn’t really paid attention before, but now that they were standing so close he realized Lan Wangji was a handful of inches taller than him.
“Shameless,” Lan Wangji hissed.
“Ehh, what’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian asked, batting his eyelashes innocently. “If it makes you feel better, you can call me Wei Ying.”
Lan Wangji merely scowled and sped up to push past him, but his ears were red and Wei Wuxian counted it as a victory. After all, he thought, smiling smugly to himself, despite Lan Wangji’s behavior, he had yet to actually tell Wei Wuxian to leave him alone.
He continued to chat and tease while he followed Lan Wangji up the trail when Lan Wangji suddenly came to a halt, causing Wei Wuxian to bump into him.
“Aiya,” Wei Wuxian automatically grabbed the back of Lan Wangji’s robes to keep himself from bouncing backwards. “Lan Zhan? What’s wrong?”
He peeked around Lan Wangji’s shoulder and went still.
“Oh,” he said softly.
Lying on the path a few feet in front of them was a white rabbit. Wei Wuxian could sense that its spirit had already left this world, but the handful of smaller rabbits huddled around it were very much alive and probably confused as to why their mother was no longer moving.
Wei Wuxian glanced up at Lan Wangji. Even gods were sometimes uncomfortable with the concept of death, which was why many of his peers found it awkward to interact with him. As a god whose job it was to create life, Wei Wuxian had no idea how Lan Wangji would react.
He was still learning to read Lan Wangji, but studying his profile, Wei Wuxian decided he looked...conflicted, like he wanted to help but was frozen in place. Wei Wuxian wondered if the rule about not interfering with mortals extended to animals.
With an internal sigh, Wei Wuxian let go of the white robes and stepped around Lan Wangji. Kneeling by the rabbits, he gently picked up the smallest one and brushed his fingers over it’s soft fur.
“There, there, little one,” he said. “It will be alright.”
He carefully bundled all four baby rabbits into his arms and returned to Lan Wangji, who merely stared back at him with wide eyes when Wei Wuxian deposited them into the other god’s hold. He walked a little ways off the path to dig a small hole in the ground, then picked up the rabbit’s body, carrying it with the utmost respect.
“What are you doing?” Lan Wangji asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wei Wuxian said, placing the body in the makeshift grave. “A proper burial will ensure this one’s soul makes it safely to Yiling, where it will be able to spend the rest of its existence in peace.”
Scooping dirt back into the hole, he gave the mound a little pat before rising back to his feet. To his surprise, Lan Wangji was already standing next to him. Wei Wuxian glanced down at the baby bunnies in his arms.
“Now what shall we do with these little ones, hm?” he asked. “They won’t survive out here on their own, and I can’t bring them home with me. Only the dead and the divine can stay in Yiling. Ah!” Wei Wuxian grinned up at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan, why don’t you take them? You already look quite attached.”
Indeed, Lan Wangji held the bunnies like they were made of precious jade. He looked down, his golden eyes meeting tiny orbs of pink.
“Pets are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian frowned. “Well, I suppose we could try to find a human to take care of them, but they’d probably be just as likely to eat them than raise them.”
At this, Lan Wangji’s hold around the rabbits tightened ever so slightly, though not enough to cause any discomfort. He looked down at them again and said, “I will take them.”
“Huh?” Wei Wuxian blinked. “But you just said it wasn’t allowed.”
“I will figure something out.”
Wei Wuxian hummed, a little smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Who would have thought that the secret to getting Hanguang-jun to bend the rules was a cute bunny rabbit?”
Frost returned to Lan Wangji’s face, but it faded a moment later, softening into something else that Wei Wuxian couldn’t quite parse as he looked down at the small grave.
“What you did was kind,” Lan Wangji finally said.
Wei Wuxian blinked again. Pink crept up to paint his cheeks.
“Ah, no, it was nothing,” he said. “Death is my domain. It’s my responsibility to care for souls in the afterlife.”
“Its soul would have made it to Yiling either way,” Lan Wangji pointed out. “You helped ease its journey when you didn’t have to.”
Unused to feeling flustered, Wei Wuxian tried to laugh off the praise with a wave of his hand. “Hanguang-jun is the one who is being kind! Careful, or my ego will grow even bigger!”
Piercing gold eyes followed the motion, and Lan Wangji carefully transferred the bunnies into one arm so he could catch Wei Wuxian’s gesticulating hand. Wei Wuxian froze. He watched in fascination as a small line creased Lan Wangji’s forehead between his brows, and looked down to see what the other god was frowning at. Wei Wuxian realized his hands were covered in dirt from burying the rabbit, and heat once again flooded his face, accompanied by a wave of self-consciousness.
Silently, Lan Wangji reached into his robe and procured a pure white handkerchief, which he then proceeded to use to clean Wei Wuxian’s hand.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, it’s fine!” Snapping out of his daze, Wei Wuxian tried to tug out of Lan Wangji’s grasp, but the other god’s grip was firm. “I’ll just find a river to wash my hands in. You don’t have to dirty your handkerchief.”
“No need.”
“But...” a small shiver ran through Wei Wuxian as soft cloth brushed the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist.
“No need,” Lan Wangji repeated. He took Wei Wuxian’s other hand and began to clean that one too.
“Aiya, alright,” Wei Wuxian sighed. After a few moments, Lan Wangji finished and released him. “Thank you.”
“Mn.”
They returned to walking up the mountain. It didn’t take long before they reached the summit, where they found a large, beautiful pond surrounded by flora of all kinds. Lan Wangji sat by the edge of the water and summoned his guqin. He seemed reluctant to stop holding the rabbits, but as cute as it would be to see them crawling all over Lan Wangji while he played, they would only get in the way so Wei Wuxian set them in his own lap to cuddle and listen to the music.
As usual, Lan Wangji was a vision. His stoic face softened with serenity, those pale gold eyes slipping shut while long, elegant fingers plucked the strings. Wei Wuxian never got tired of watching him play, taking delight in Lan Wangji’s beauty as well as the aura of new life that rippled out from him. Lotus flowers rose from the pond, blooming into pretty, pink petals, and a wave of nostalgia swept over Wei Wuxian.
So lost in his memories, Wei Wuxian didn’t even notice Lan Wangji finish playing until his low, soothing voice cut through the fog.
“Wei Ying?”
Wei Wuxian blinked and looked up to find Lan Wangji sitting much closer than before, a look of mild concern on his face. Wei Wuxian felt proud that he was able to spot it.
“I’m fine, Lan Zhan,” he said. He perked up. “Ah! You called me Wei Ying!”
Lan Wangji’s ears turned red, but he merely nodded. “Mn.”
“I’m so glad!” Wei Wuxian smiled. “This means we’re friends, right?”
Lan Wangji remained silent for a long moment, but before Wei Wuxian could deflate, he nodded once more. “Mn.”
Wei Wuxian’s smile grew impossibly bigger. Lan Wangji averted his gaze, and Wei Wuxian followed it to look down at the bunnies still in his lap.
“Oh, you probably want these little ones back now, huh? Here you go.”
He handed them over and Lan Wangji graciously accepted them back into his care.
“You…” Lan Wangji paused and Wei Wuxian patiently waited. “You seemed lost in thought.”
“Ah, mn,” Wei Wuxian nodded. “The lotus blossoms reminded me of things, is all. You probably already know this, but before I became the Yiling Patriarch I grew up at Lotus Pier.”
Like the Cloud Recesses, Lotus Pier was a magical place inhabited by gods, though instead of floating in the sky it was located on a vast lake in Yunmeng, invisible to mortal eyes.
Gods, like humans, loved to spread gossip, so Wei Wuxian had no doubt that even Lan Wangji, who seemed above such petty things, knew the story of Wei Wuxian’s odd upbringing. How he was taken in by Jiang Fengmian, the god of water. How rumors spread that he was Jiang Fengmian’s illegitimate child, which drove a wedge between him and his wife, Yu Ziyuan, the goddess of lightning. How the goddess of death, Baoshan Sanren, relinquished her title seemingly out of nowhere, and named Wei Wuxian as her heir when he came of age, and he had to leave his adopted family to rule Yiling.
Though he still visited Lotus Pier from time to time, Wei Wuxian knew it was no longer his home. In some ways, things were actually better now. Uncle Jiang, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli all still considered him family, and Madam Yu even tolerated him more now that he wasn’t constantly underfoot and rumors of his parentage had died down out of fear of inciting the wrath of the Yiling Patriarch.
Even so, there was a deep well of nostalgia in Wei Wuxian’s soul that ached for a time when things had been simpler.
“When I was small,” he said softly, “Jiang Cheng and I would collect as many lotus flowers as we could carry and braid them into Shijie’s hair. In retrospect, it probably ended up looking a bit silly, but Shijie just smiled and praised us like we had showered her in gold and jewels. I think it’s the little things like that that I miss most of all.”
“Are you no longer close to them?”
“It’s not that,” he shook his head. “We’re just...different people now. Jiang Cheng is getting ready to take on the mantle of god of lightning once Madam Yu decides to step down, and Shijie is already married to that peacock Jin Zixuan and expecting her first child any day now. And then there’s me. I mean, can you imagine the fearsome Yiling Patriarch, god of death and ruler of the underworld, playing with flowers? I may be shameless, but even I have my limits!”
Lan Wangji seemed to consider this. He scooped a nearby lotus flower out of the water, and before Wei Wuxian could ask what he was doing, Lan Wangji tucked it into Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian blinked back at him for a long moment, then burst into laughter.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he said. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you go and do something like this!”
Pale gold eyes watched him as his laughter settled into a breathless chuckle. Wei Wuxian shot the other god a teasing glance.
“Well,” he purred, “do I look pretty?”
Lan Wangji’s face remained blank, but Wei Wuxian watched with vague fascination as his ears turned a darker shade of red.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji nodded.
It was Wei Wuxian’s turn to blush, dropping his face into his palms with a groan.
“Lan Zhan,” he whined, “you can’t just say that! What’s gotten into you? Just a few hours ago you hated me!”
A hand gently but firmly grasped his wrist, pulling it away. Wei Wuxian tried in vain to keep avoiding eye contact.
“No,” Lan Wangji said quietly. “I never hated Wei Ying.”
He risked a peek between his fingers. “Really?”
“Mn.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian fully came out of hiding and gave Lan Wangji a bright grin. “Good!”
Lan Wangji blinked at him before simply replying with another, “Mn.” Slowly, his lips curled up into the teeniest, tiniest smile.
Ignoring the sudden hammering of his heart, Wei Wuxian quickly began chattering about anything and everything he could think of, mostly more stories of his childhood. All the while, Lan Wangji sat by his side and listened, petting the bunnies in his lap.
Eventually, dusk came upon them, and they had to part ways once more. Unlike all the previous times, however, when Wei Wuxian bid him a cheery goodbye, Lan Wangji returned the favor, nodding to his promise of seeing each other again soon. With an odd, warm feeling in his chest, Wei Wuxian watched Lan Wangji and his armful of rabbits vanish into the night.
Later that evening as he got ready for bed, Wei Wuxian plucked the lotus flower from his hair and set it afloat in a shallow dish of water. With a bit of spiritual energy to keep it from wilting, Wei Wuxian placed the dish on the table by his bed, and went to sleep with a smile on his face.