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Chapter Text

            “Fuck me.”

            Lan Wangji blinks in surprise, not only at Luo Qingyang’s vulgarity, but also at the sudden, fierce hit she delivers to the door currently locking them within a subsection of the Lan library. After several short moments of internal panic – during which Luo Qingyang mutters other expletives under her breath and continues to pound ineffectually at the door – Lan Wangji gathers with some relief that she’s not propositioning him, but merely cursing the situation.

            Thus recovered, he thinks to inform Luo Qingyang, “The door will not unlock from within.”

            “What?” Hand poised to deliver another hit, she stops suddenly and turns, her indignation now directed at him. “Why not?”

            “The locking charms only work one way.”

            “Seriously?”

            Lan Wangji nods. “It discourages trespassers.”

            “And traps unwitting disciples in dusty libraries,” she mutters, but not quietly enough to escape Lan Wangji’s hearing.

            “They typically do not engage until curfew. Something must have malfunctioned.” Lan Wangji will have to speak with Lan Xichen to ensure such a thing doesn’t happen again. He’d been writing an essay and came here for a reference text, only for Luo Qingyang to show up in the middle of his searching. When she’d turned to leave and tried the door again, she’d found it locked. She likely has her own work to be doing and, like Lan Wangji, is disturbed in her studies by this inconvenience. He wonders if he ought to apologize on behalf of the Lan sect for the malfunctioning charm when suddenly Luo Qingyang’s cursing restarts with more vigor.

            “That bastard,” she says, seeming to forget about Lan Wangji’s presence. The admonishment is on the tip of his tongue—do not speak vulgarly—but Luo Qingyang continues before he can say a word. “Locking me in here, taking his romantic issues out on me! Just because he’s stuck here with his betrothed—who happens to be one of the kindest and most beautiful women in all the cultivation world, but does he care? No, because he didn’t have a choice. Oh, boo hoo, you don’t see me here complaining that I have no choice about being surrounded by beautiful, capable, intelligent cultivators day in and day out with no one to complain to when Wen Qing wears her hair back in the way that shows off her darling ears!

            “I mean seriously,” she says, turning abruptly back to Lan Wangji, and he realizes with some shock that he’s being addressed. “How am I meant to memorize all six hundred thousand Gusu Lan rules when she’s sitting there looking like that? I want to study, unlike all the others around here, trying their hardest to get into bed with someone of the opposite sex. And they at least get to talk about it! Oh, it’s all Jiang Wanyin this and Lan Wangji that, but can I say a word when I miraculously get Wen Qing to laugh and want to write odes to her lips? No, no, because despite being Lanling’s most intelligent, capable, powerful cultivator, all anyone cares about is my future marriage! To a man of all things! Ridiculous!”

            Lan Wangji blinks more quickly than he usually does. Luo Qingyang spoke…very fast. Fast enough that, upon ending her speech, she breathes heavily to catch up on all the air she forwent to speak. It takes him several moments to collect all he’s learned from her rant. Jin-gongzi—for it must be him, no one else at lecture is currently betrothed—apparently had a hand in their current predicament. Because he believes that Luo Qingyang, along with many of the other guest disciples, wishes to bed someone of the opposite sex. Himself in particular, Lan Wangji notes with careful detachment, as Luo Qingyang also seemingly has no interest in such a thing, seeing as she is quite enamored with women, generally, and Wen-guniang, specifically.

            Hm. Lan Wangji presses his lips.

            He doesn’t know how he ought to feel about this. Luo Qingyang is a stranger. A stranger who has just said many things to him that he would deem rather private, which would usually have him disapprove of her. But as she said, she is a very capable cultivator. Lan Wangji has helped Uncle in grading several exams and Luo Qingyang always gets high marks, and their sparring classes showcased her precise and efficient fighting technique. Lan Wangji appreciates her intelligence.

            But suddenly this appreciation takes on a different tone. There are many other capable cultivators here this summer, but Luo Qingyang—she has no interest in the baser happenings occurring at lecture. Because, unlike their peers, she has no desire to bed people of the opposite sex. This knowledge ought not to change his opinion of her—Lan Xichen had said as much when they had discussed the matter, years ago—but Lan Wangji finds it has. He cannot characterize this change in any substantial way except, ridiculously, as she is like me.

            “Oh shit.” Lan Wangji blinks himself back to the present situation to find Luo Qingyang’s anger has left her face now that her breathing has settled. Instead she stares at him with widened eyes that quickly fill with easily discernible horror. “I—I—Lan-er-gongzi, I—my deepest apologies, I didn’t—I never intended to—I’ve just been so tired, I—”

            Perhaps remembering his own panic when Xichen had approached him about his own inclinations all those years ago, Lan Wangji finds himself pressed to assuage her nerves. “It is alright,” he says, interrupting her rambling apology. She still stares at him as many disciples do when he’s caught them breaking a rule, so he adds, inclining his head, “I understand.”

            Luo Qingyang’s mouth opens but she says nothing. After a moment, it closes again and her eyebrows draw together. Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to make of this, like many other aspects of their conversation so far, so he simply waits, silent, as she frowns at him. Her head tilts sideways, one way and then the other. Her eyes narrow. With mild dread, Lan Wangji realizes he’s being assessed. The attention warms his ears for reasons he cannot discern.

            Luo Qingyang’s expression suddenly shifts, her eyes widening once again, lips parting. With some measure of disbelief, she says, “You’re a cut-sleeve.”

            Lan Wangji stiffens. How did she—?

            Apparently decided without need of confirmation, Luo Qingyang sighs deeply on a smile. Leaning back against the bookshelf behind her, she says emphatically, “Thank the Heavens.”

            Lan Wangji knows how to deal with the strange grin she gives him now even less than he did with her rant. Fortunately, it’s at this moment that Lan Xichen’s voice comes from outside the room, calling, “Wangji?”

            Grateful, for once, for his brother’s daily check-ins, Lan Wangji calls back to him and they are quickly released from the room. Luo Qingyang bows in thanks to Zewu-Jun and gives Lan Wangji only a nod and a smile before returning to wherever she’d been studying. Upon her leave, Lan Xichen accompanies Lan Wangji back to his own table.

            “I will have someone check the charms,” he says, smiling sympathetically. “Were you stuck there long?”

            “No.” Though it felt like the longest period of his life thus far, Lan Wangji knows it couldn’t have been more than a handful of minutes.

            Lan Xichen peers at him for a few moments before smiling, wider than his usual polite, sect leader smile. “I’m glad you had company, at least.”

            “Mn.”

            Lan Xichen’s smile widens even further in a rather intense way, but they’ve arrived at Lan Wangji’s table by now, so he nods at his brother, thanks him for his help once again, and is then, thankfully, left alone.

            As he settles back down into his seat, reference text open in front of him, he quickly decides to put the whole event out of his mind. Luo Qingyang knows rather personal information about him, but she is like him, and he can’t envision her gossiping about such a thing. They will likely never interact again, so it’s best to just forget it. With that, he returns to his essay, mind unburdened.

*~*~*

            The next afternoon, Lan Wangji resumes work on his essay in the same favored spot. This spot is deep within the Lan library. Towering shelves on either side form an alcove where several low tables have been set up for studying disciples to make use of. Lan Wangji’s particular table sits just beside the wall, where a large window allows in afternoon sun, filtered through the leafy branches of several summer trees. Lan Wangji enjoys sitting with his back to the light, warming him as he works. Few people tend to venture this far into the library, and that, along with the pleasing atmosphere, makes it the perfect space to be productive.

            Today, however, he’s only added several more lines to his essay when someone else arrives. As he’s in the middle of writing a sentence, he doesn’t look up until the person settles in at the next table. He blinks several times in surprise to find Luo Qingyang sitting there, looking back at him. She waves. Lan Wangji nods. After a moment, he returns his gaze to the essay.

            But even as his eyes move, his mind remains on Luo Qingyang’s presence. Perhaps she simply wishes to study in a remote spot as well. She had mentioned being distracted by others but wishing to learn, which would make this alcove a good spot. This could simply be a coincidental occurrence. Illogically, though, Lan Wangji feels that it isn’t.

            Then Luo Qingyang speaks up. “Lan-er-gongzi, do you have a copy of today’s class notes? I fear I missed some things.” Lan Wangji nods. He removes his notes from the pile of papers beside him and stands to deliver them to her. She grins up at him as she takes them, thanking him. “I usually take very detailed notes, but Wen Qing wore a new hairpiece today that fully captured my attention.”

            Lan Wangji’s ears heat. He nods back stiffly and turns, returning to his seat. He’s forgotten completely where he left off in the essay, so he rereads some of what he’s written, but by the time he reaches the last character, Luo Qingyang has spoken once again.

            “Along with the hairpiece, she wore two braids,” she says, copying notes even though she must not absorb any of the content as she speaks simultaneously. “It showed off her ears and she has the most darling ears, you must’ve seen them.” Luo Qingyang pauses here to look up, expectant, and Lan Wangji realizes she wants a reply.

            “Mn,” he says, as he has seen Wen-guniang’s ears, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call them darling. He thinks it wise to refrain from saying that.

            Luo Qingyang grins. “Exactly! Anyway,” she turns back to copying, “she arrived almost late to lecture, so she had to sit in the front row, and I could hardly pay attention to class with her sitting before me, her ears so well displayed.”

            Lan Wangji, having sat through the same lecture today and remaining very attentive even with Wei Wuxian sending not one but two papermen to him, finds this excuse rather flimsy. Pointedly, he says, “Today’s lecture focused on rule 32. Learning comes first.”

            Instead of appearing chastised, Luo Qingyang laughs. “Yes, I suppose it’s rather ironic. But Lan-er-gongzi, you must understand, being around such handsome cultivators all day.” Lan Wangji’s ears burn at the implication, but Luo Qingyang doesn’t look up from her copying to see it. She pauses though, tapping the end of her brush against her bottom lip as she reads over Lan Wangji’s notes. “I suppose you’ve had more time to become accustomed to it than I have. The Lan sect is full of beautiful cultivators, while most of my sect siblings are related to Jin Guangshan and suffer accordingly.” Lan Wangji’s eyes widen slightly at such open critique of her own sect leader. Luo Qingyang looks up once again and laughs at whatever she sees in his face. “Of course, Jin Zixuan thankfully takes after his mother, but if you ever told him I said so, his head would grow larger than he could carry, so you mustn’t say anything, Lan-er-gongzi.”

            Lan Wangji says, “Mn.” He doubts he will speak to anyone of this conversation ever, not the least because he has no idea what is going on.

            Luo Qingyang continues to talk as she copies, mostly of Wen-guniang, but after a short while she suddenly seems to remember something and says, “I never explained why Jin Zixuan locked us in that room, did I?”

            “No,” Lan Wangji says, as she hasn’t explained, not that he especially cares to know. All of the guest disciples at Cloud Recesses this summer behave unpredictably and ridiculously. He doesn’t need to know why they break the rules to punish them for it.

            “Weeks ago my friends were giggling over all the gongzis,” Luo Qingyang says, gesturing frivolously with one hand as she copies with the other. “They asked me who I liked and I said you.” Luo Qingyang looks up long enough to grin. “With all due respect, Lan-er-gongzi, you don’t seem especially amenable to flirting. I believed that if I pretended to have affections for you, it would give me cover without necessitating actually following through on my supposed feelings.”

            Lan Wangji isn’t offended in the slightest. He cultivates such a reputation intentionally. He nods in deference to her smart thinking.

            Luo Qingyang smiles and returns her eyes to her notes. “That would’ve been the end of it, but Jin Zixuan is slightly ridiculous when it comes to romance. He feels he’s been robbed of a youth of crushes and flirtations and the like, as if the fact of his title wouldn’t have complicated romance regardless of his betrothal, but whatever.” Lan Wangji should chastise her for speaking of Jin-gongzi behind his back in such a manner, but she continues too quickly for him to get a reprimand in. “He decided he would help me fulfill my romantic aspirations—without telling me, mind you. So he locked us in a room together. I don’t know what he expected—such a situation isn’t exactly a wonderful chance for bonding.” Luo Qingyang pauses to dip her brush in the ink. “Don’t worry, though, Lan-er-gongzi. I threatened to do the same to him and Jiang-guniang should he attempt this again, so there won’t be any repeat occurrences.”

            “Threatening is forbidden.”

            “I’d never actually do such a thing,” Luo Qingyang says, appearing thoroughly unchastised, “Jiang-guniang deserves better than that. But Jin Zixuan doesn’t respond well to reason, and it isn’t as if I can just tell him I lied about my affections for you because I actually like women.”

            Lan Wangji should admonish her further—threatening is forbidden, regardless of reasoning—but he finds he has sympathy for her plight. She wishes not to lie to her friend, but telling the truth is rather—intimidating.

            Luo Qingyang stands then, Lan Wangji’s notes in hand. Miraculously, she seems to have managed to copy them as she spoke, and she brings them back to Lan Wangji. He takes them from her outstretched hand, but instead of returning to her own table, she sits at his.

            Grinning, she asks, “Have I told you about Wen Qing’s lips yet? She has such lovely lips.”

            Lan Wangji says, “No,” as Luo Qingyang has yet to speak of Wen-guniang’s lips. Whether or not he wishes to hear of them seems to be of little consequence.

             “Her bottom lip is so perfectly round, and pink! So perfectly pink. When she smiles, it’s as if the sun has come out from behind a cloud. It’s very distracting, but how could I wish for anything except her smile?” Luo Qingyang sighs deeply. “Everyone talks about bedding one another—and I want that too, of course—but I think I could be content with just the press of her lips, just once.”

            Lan Wangji, for all his ears are burning at the subject, is overcome with the same sensation he’d experienced the day before. That we are the same emotion. His peers all take for granted that their advances will be welcome. They kiss and touch and fuck without hesitation, without fear. How foolish it feels to Lan Wangji, to wish for something so intimate, when even the idea of his attraction could be met with revulsion. Whatever desires he may have about—certain people, they will never be fulfilled. Surrounded by people indulging in such pleasures without a care while he can’t hope for more than a teasing smile as he’s made the butt of a joke…it’s rather alienating.

            And yet, Luo Qingyang experiences it too.

            Distracted by this, Lan Wangji doesn’t react as Luo Qingyang continues on in her admiration of Wen-guniang. She talks about Wen-guniang’s beautiful features, her fighting prowess, her intelligence. “Her family are doctors, you know,” Luo Qingyang says, as if she’s been told for months to keep Wen-guniang’s attributes a secret and now she’s finally been permitted to speak. “She has all these ideas about medical cultivation. It’s the only thing I can get her to talk about without reprieve. I could watch her talk for hours.”

            Lan Wangji reacts when Luo Qingyang seems to expect him to but otherwise remains quiet as the sun warming his back slowly sinks lower in the sky. While he personally cannot agree with Luo Qingyang’s assessment of Wen-guniang, he finds the depth and emotion of her regard rather familiar. He’s never had the urge to speak of his own feelings, but to hear it all put so plainly—well, Lan Wangji does not stop her from speaking.

            When the hour comes for dinner, Luo Qingyang packs up her notes and bows shallowly to Lan Wangji. “Thank you for listening,” she says, smiling as if she knows she gave him little choice in the matter. Lan Wangji simply nods in return. Luo Qingyang straightens from her bow and, still smiling, says, “See you tomorrow, Lan-er-gongzi.”

            With that, she leaves the alcove. Lan Wangji blinks at her retreating back. Tomorrow?

*~*~*

            True to her word, Luo Qingyang returns the next day. And the next, and the next, and—well, not the next, as they have no classes and Luo Qingyang accompanies her sect members on a trip to Caiyi Town, but the point is that Luo Qingyang continues to visit him. Each day she brings with her stories of her classes. They almost always pertain to her fellow female guest disciples. It isn’t always about Wen-guniang—she features rather frequently, but sometimes Luo Qingyang speaks of Jiang sect disciples, Nie sect disciples, even Lan sect disciples that Lan Wangji knows personally and has to avoid looking at during mealtimes for several days following their conversation lest his ears burn, unbidden.

            Luo Qingyang seems to have no issue with Lan Wangji’s infrequent, short replies. When he does deign to give her fuller sentences—usually in reproach—many times she laughs at some perceived joke. In the beginning, he’s slightly affronted by her laughter—he never intends to joke—but as the weeks go on, he starts intentionally saying things that he thinks will make her laugh, and each time she does it feels—good. Not unlike how it feels when he masters a new sword form, or perfects a song on his guqin.

            Luo Qingyang becomes more familiar with him as time goes on, more open, which Lan Wangji hadn’t thought possible. She begins calling him Lan Wangji when she speaks directly to him, Lan-er-gongzi when she’s teasing. She teases him more the more time they spend together, notices when his ears burn and laughs. The teasing is not mean-spirited, however, and though Lan Wangji hardly acknowledges it to himself, let alone aloud, he finds he—likes it. It—reminds him of Mother, in a way that doesn’t hurt.

            Luo Qingyang has her own friends and responsibilities, of course, and Lan Wangji continues to supervise Wei Wuxian’s punishments after lectures, so they can’t spend every afternoon together. But frequently they can be found in Lan Wangji’s favored alcove, Luo Qingyang speaking of beautiful women and Lan Wangji nodding along, unbothered but attentive.

            On a warm afternoon several weeks into their—acquaintance? association?—Luo Qingyang sits at Lan Wangji’s table and insists, wide-eyed, “No, but you don’t understand. Jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. I put my hands on her waist. I said something idiotic because she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. Lan Wangji. I’m in love.”

            Lan Wangji hums, turning a page in his book. “Yesterday you were in love with Wen-guniang.” He skims the first sentence, retaining little. “Has this changed?” He watches Luo Qingyang frown out of the corner of his eye.

            “No,” she seems to decide. “I’m in love with both of them. All of them. Lan Wangji.” At her severity, he looks up. She implores him with her eyes, lamenting, “They’re all so pretty all the time. It’s horrible.”

            Lan Wangji presses his lips in an attempt to curb the smile threatening at his mouth. Recently, he’s found himself repressing smiles quite often around Luo Qingyang. It’s not horrible. “I’m sorry to hear it brings Luo-guniang such trouble.”

            Luo Qingyang groans, shifting her weight onto her palms resting on the floor behind her. It leaves her slumped at an incline. Lan Wangji thinks the admonishment, do not sit improperly, without saying it. Luo Qingyang has had a tiring day. He can allow her this reprieve. “I swear,” she says, her eyes on the ceiling, “if Jin Zixuan says one more bad thing about her, I’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

            Lan Wangji thinks about it for a moment. Jiang-guniang’s brothers would likely find no man good enough for their sister, so perhaps they would be content with Luo Qingyang. At the very least, they would deem it an improvement over Jin-gongzi. Jiang-guniang also seems to be very kind and would treat Luo Qingyang well, should they marry. Decided, he says to Luo Qingyang, “Mn.”

            Luo Qingyang grins, laughter in her eyes. “Lan-er-gongzi, if I do end up marrying Jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

            Lan Wangji frowns. That wouldn’t do. “Jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement.”

            Luo Qingyang huffs, still grinning. “As if Yunmeng or Lanling would deign to host our wedding.”

            Lan Wangji tilts his head in thought. If Luo Qingyang were to marry Jiang-guniang, it would dissolve the betrothal between her and Jin-gongzi and likely anger both involved sects greatly. Still. An elopement would not please Wei Wuxian. Decided once again, he says, “Gusu will host it.” At Luo Qingyang’s following silence, he looks over to find her staring, eyes big and round, lips parted on a smile. Lan Wangji has no clue what such an expression means or what to do with it. He stays silent.

            When Luo Qingyang finally speaks, her eyes shine with something other than laughter and her mouth has settled into a smaller, softer curve. “Lan-er-gongzi exceeds his reputation,” she says. At Lan Wangji’s frown, she clarifies, “Everyone speaks of your honor and righteousness, but none talk of how good of a friend you are.”

            Something strange catches in Lan Wangji’s throat. It stops him from replying, that is because I have no friends. When he regains control of his voice, he still does not say it. It sounds—sad, as he thinks about it, and evidently no longer true.

            He has Luo Qingyang.

*~*~*

            Several weeks following the start of his friendship with Luo Qingyang—“Really, Lan Wangji, call me Mianmian. All of my friends call me Mianmian.”—Lan Wangji sits in the library, mildly reading a book of poems as he wonders if Luo Qingyang will be joining him soon when she suddenly appears, dragging Jin-gongzi behind her by the wrist.

            Jin-gongzi appears disgruntled, and as surprised to see Lan Wangji as Lan Wangji is to see him. Regardless, he sits across from Lan Wangji when Luo Qingyang tugs him down and with no explanation and little fanfare, Luo Qingyang says to Lan Wangji, stricken, “Jiang-guniang touched my hair.”

            Lan Wangji just barely remembers to give this the intent, “Mn,” that such an event deserves, flicking his gaze to Jin-gongzi who stares silently, blatantly confused, at Luo Qingyang.

            Luo Qingyang ignores this in favor of continuing to recount her tale. “We were working on sword forms and she said, ‘Oh, Mianmian, you’ve got hair in your eyes,’ and with my hands busy as I demonstrated the move, she just reached out and brushed it away. Lan Wangji. Her fingertips touched my forehead. I nearly fainted.”

            Lan Wangji envisions Wei Wuxian tenderly brushing hair out of his eyes. It would likely precede a prank, but still. Such an event does sound rather devastating. He nods sympathetically to Luo Qingyang’s plight. He glances at Jin-gongzi, whose mouth has now dropped open, his eyes wide enough to see the whites above his pupils. Lan Wangji presses his lips to suppress his frown.

            Luo Qingyang continues to ignore Jin-gongzi’s presence. “I obviously lost all ability to speak, which didn’t help since I was in the middle of explaining the sword form, but even when I babbled like an idiot, she just smiled at me. With her dimples and everything. Lan Wangji. I learned nothing the rest of the class, I’m going to need all your notes, I wrote nothing. Well, that’s not true, I wrote the word dimples a million times but that will hardly help me on the exam.”

            Lan Wangji nods and retrieves his notes, handing them to her wordlessly and she grins at him in thanks. It’s this moment that Jin-gongzi seems to regain the ability to speak and, blinking quite a lot, splutters, “You like women?”

            Luo Qingyang turns to him for the first time since they sat down. Her expression the picture of calm, her shoulders a tense line, she nods.

            Jin-gongzi more severely asks, “You like Jiang-guniang?”

            Luo Qingyang gives a shrug that isn’t quite as casual as she seemingly intends it to be. “More or less. She’s just really pretty and I’m dying about it. It’s fine.”

            Lan Wangji says, “Mn.” The presence of unattainable attractive people does encourage such a sentiment.

            Jin-gongzi gapes, his gaze flicking back and forth between Luo Qingyang and Lan Wangji. In all the years Lan Wangji has known Jin-gongzi, seeing him at cultivation conferences and various sect events during their youth, Lan Wangji has never seen him so blatantly disregard his sect heir etiquette. The longer he stares in undisguised surprise, the more Lan Wangji wants to chide him. There is a handful of rules he could quote—maintain your own discipline, do not stare impolitely, close your mouth unless you intend to speak—but he truly only wishes to say one.

            Love all beings. That’s what Lan Xichen had said, all those years ago, when Lan Wangji asked him if his inclinations would disappoint Uncle. Love all beings, Lan Wangji thinks fiercely at Jin-gongzi. Love Luo Qingyang for who she is.

            After a long silence, Luo Qingyang winces and asks, “You’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

            As if some unseen talisman has activated, Jin-gongzi startles into motion. He begins to quickly shake his head and stutter, “No, no—of course not, I—you know that I—you’re my best friend, I don’t care—what does it matter to me, who you want to—to touch your hair.”

            Lan Wangji presses his lips. That is probably the most incoherent, inarticulate, awkward sentence he’s ever heard in his life. But Luo Qingyang grins regardless, her eyes shiny with wetness. She punches Jin-gongzi in the shoulder and he emits a disgruntled sound of pain, rubbing at the spot. Lan Wangji refrains from reproaching either of them, finding himself rather overcome.

            Lan Xichen had said that such things shouldn’t change people’s opinion of a person, but Lan Wangji knows the world doesn’t follow the rules the way he once believed. He had kept his own inclinations to himself, partly because no one asked but partly due to the fact that he didn’t want to overhear the whispers, face the response. The Second Jade of Lan is a cut-sleeve. This desire within him, this capacity for love, reduced down to something for people to gossip over at cultivation conferences, used as a means of judging his character. No. No, Lan Wangji decided to keep it to himself, to avoid the rest of the world’s opinion, to avoid ever having someone turn to him with confusion or disgust.

            But here Jin-gongzi is. Awkwardly yet staunchly supportive. Lan Wangji takes a moment to marvel at it, silently. How—pleasantly surprising.

            Jin-gongzi thus caught up, Luo Qingyang continues to complain about the beautiful women in her classes. Lan Wangji does his best to respond in the correct places as usual. Jin-gongzi splutters, flushing deeply whenever Luo Qingyang speaks of Jiang-guniang or becomes too emphatic in her praise, but he doggedly remains seated at the table. He awkwardly retorts when Luo Qingyang teases him and frowns every so often in confusion at Lan Wangji but doesn’t voice any further questions. He still hasn’t seemed to work out why Luo Qingyang chose Lan Wangji to confess to, which Lan Wangji finds himself grateful for, regardless of Jin-gongzi’s positive reaction to Luo Qingyang’s reveal.

            The next day, Luo Qingyang returns with Jin-gongzi once again, and the day after that, the same thing. As abruptly as Luo Qingyang worked her way into Lan Wangji’s daily life, so too does Jin-gongzi. Lan Wangji could never have predicted such a thing at the start of lecture, but with Jin-gongzi’s easy acceptance of Luo Qingyang, he finds himself more amenable to his presence. While awkward, Jin-gongzi isn’t unlikeable, and is made even more favorable by his interactions with Luo Qingyang. Unlike many others, Luo Qingyang doesn’t treat Jin-gongzi as a sect heir, but a friend, and it allows him to be less arrogant and more open. And, even more surprising than Lan Wangji’s enjoyment of Jin-gongzi’s company, Jin-gongzi seems to enjoy Lan Wangji’s company in return.

            The first time Lan Wangji says something to make Luo Qingyang laugh, Jin-gongzi stares at him open-mouthed. But the second time Lan Wangji intentionally jokes, Jin-gongzi laughs too, seeming just as startled by it as Lan Wangji is. As time goes on, Jin-gongzi also frequently turns to Lan Wangji looking for support in his arguments despite the fact that Lan Wangji rarely speaks and even more rarely voices agreement.

            “All the female Nie cultivators are so large and muscled,” he complains, one afternoon, when Luo Qingyang goes on about a particular woman in her class. Unlike Lan Wangji, Jin-gongzi doesn’t always agree with Luo Qingyang’s ardent admirations. “It’s impressive but not particularly attractive.”

            “Jin Zixuan,” Luo Qingyang responds seriously, “if a woman can pick me up with one arm, I am immediately in love with her. Ask any woman like me and you’ll hear the same.”

            Jin-gongzi huffs and turns to Lan Wangji. “Lan-er-gongzi, do you not agree that muscled women are unattractive?”

            Lan Wangji says, “Mn,” as he doesn’t find muscled women attractive, since he doesn’t find any women attractive. This prompts Luo Qingyang to erupt into laughter, much too loud for the library, and Lan Wangji ought to admonish her, but there isn’t anyone else around and it’s—nice, to have a secret joke shared between them.

            Lan Wangji represses his smile at Jin-gongzi’s outraged, “Why are you laughing? Mianmian, stop it right now.”

            Other times, when Luo Qingyang runs out of stories about her fellow classmates (which, heretofore, Lan Wangji thought impossible) she and Jin-gongzi tell him of their time growing up in Koi Tower. “I’ve made him eat dirt at least five times,” she tells him one day, as Jin-gongzi splutters beside her, red-faced. “You’d think after the first four times, he’d stop believing that it enhances cultivation, but no. He’s a bit slow, our Jin Zixuan, but we love him anyway.”

            “Yeah, well, Mianmian’s fallen out of windows more times than I’ve eaten dirt!” Jin-gongzi seems unaware of the concept of an indoor voice and unbothered by his ignorance. “She’s gotten drunk and snuck out of Koi Tower once a week since she was thirteen.”

            “Ugh, you would too if you had to sleep next door to your cousin.” Luo Qingyang makes an expression of disgust. “How one person can be so loud on their own is beyond me.”

            Lan Wangji nods in sympathy. He’s fortunate to live in the jingshi, with no one else around for some distance. Jin-gongzi just turns redder at the implication of his cousin’s nightly habits, shutting his mouth with an audible sound. Lan Wangji has never taken pleasure in others’ discomfort, but even still he finds himself repressing a smile at Jin-gongzi’s embarrassment. Luo Qingyang has no similar qualms and laughs loudly in the usually quiet library.

            Lan Xichen happens to choose this moment to come collect Lan Wangji for their weekly dinner with Uncle. Luo Qingyang and Jin-gongzi hurry to their feet to bow and Lan Wangji does the same at a slower pace. When he straightens from his bow, it’s to find his brother smiling rather intensely at Lan Wangji’s companions.

            “We apologize for our noise, Zewu-Jun,” Luo Qingyang says, still bowing. “We didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

            Lan Xichen continues to smile, his intensity undamped. “It’s alright. I suspect we are the only ones remaining in the library at this hour. I’ve just come to collect Wangji for dinner.”

            Luo Qingyang straightens up and winces. “Ah, that means we’re late for dinner. If you’ll excuse us, Zewu-Jun.” Lan Xichen nods. She and Jin-gongzi bow to Zewu-Jun and then she turns to Lan Wangji and bows shallowly, smiling. “See you tomorrow, Lan Wangji.” Lan Wangji nods in return at both her and Jin-gongzi and then they leave the alcove together. He turns his gaze from them to see his brother still smiling in the same manner.

            “You were studying with Luo-guniang and Jin-gongzi?” he asks.

            Lan Wangji nods, though no studying occurred. As Lan Xichen continues to stare at him, he rather stiltedly adds, “We are friends.”

            Lan Xichen smiles so widely that his eyes nearly close. “That’s wonderful, Wangji.”

            Lan Wangji’s ears burn. He presses his lips. “Uncle is waiting.”

            “Yes, yes, of course, let us go.” They set off in the direction of Uncle’s quarters, but Lan Xichen doesn’t stop smiling in such a manner all through dinner. It confuses Uncle greatly, to the point where he even breaks the rule against talking during mealtime to ask what’s put Lan Xichen in such a good mood. “Wangji was studying with Luo-guniang and Jin-gongzi in the library today. They plan to do so again tomorrow.”

            Uncle turns to Lan Wangji in surprise. Lan Wangji’s ears feel so warm they must be glowing, but he continues to eat silently. “Hmm,” Uncle says, after several moments. “Luo-guniang is an accomplished disciple. Jin-gongzi has many strengths. They will make good study partners.”

            “They’re friends,” Lan Xichen says, and only smiles wider when Lan Wangji darts his eyes at him pointedly.

            “Friends?” Uncle blinks several times. “Well.” He stares at his meal silently without moving for a few moments before nodding once to himself and picking up his utensils once again. No one says anything else for the rest of the meal and Lan Wangji is exceedingly grateful.

            Still, he notes with some measure of embarrassment, he finds himself pleased that his brother and uncle approve of his friends.

*~*~*

            One afternoon, a week or so before their first physical exam, Luo Qingyang shows up to the library without Jin-gongzi and asks Lan Wangji to accompany her to the training grounds. Lan Wangji hadn’t actually needed to do anything in the library—he’d just been waiting for Luo Qingyang—and it is a rather nice day outside, so he agrees. They find Jin-gongzi there, working through stretches as he waits for them to join him.

            As they stretch, Luo Qingyang laments that she had to turn down a Nie disciple’s offer to spar together. “She’s easily one of the best in the class and the way she swings that sabre? Ugh. But if I agreed, I would undoubtedly make a fool of myself by getting distracted by her arms or something, so I said no.”

            Jin-gongzi huffs. “That’s ridiculous, you ought to be able to have a fight with someone without distracting yourself.”

            “Fights are one thing, sparring is another.” Luo Qingyang bends into a stretch and, to her knees, says, “In a fight, you have a goal, things are focused. In sparring, the stakes are low and all my brain can focus on is how her arms are as large as my head.” She says the last part with a small sigh.

            Lan Wangji considers this argument. He has attempted to fight Wei Wuxian on several occasions when Wei Wuxian broke rules, and Lan Wangji only failed in apprehending him because of Wei Wuxian’s equal skill. Because of that very thing, Wei Wuxian has asked him to spar several times since lectures started, but Lan Wangji has refused each time. The reason, he realizes then, is just as Luo Qingyang said. How is he meant to concentrate when faced with Wei Wuxian’s teasing smile in a situation when it isn’t imperative that he focus?

            “Mn,” he says, straightening up from his own stretch.

            “Thank you, Lan Wangji.” Luo Qingyang grins, straightening up as well. “Shall we begin, then?”

            Sparring with Luo Qingyang and Jin-gongzi is a good exercise. The Jin sect, while not as renowned as the Lan in the ways of sword work, practice an interesting method of fighting, utilizing darts and feints to confuse their opponent to gain the upper hand. The Lan use a direct fighting style that is precise and powerful, relying on superior skill to succeed. While Lan Wangji is a better swordsman than either of his opponents, their style contrasts starkly with his own and tests him in ways he is unused to.

            Luo Qingyang, being smaller, is faster than Lan Wangji, and tests his endurance by taunting him into following her around the sparring grounds, always remaining just outside his reach. She is quick-witted as well as -footed and, after several matches, adapts to some of Lan Wangji’s more common moves, pushing him to be creative in order to gain the advantage.

            Jin-gongzi’s fighting style, while also characteristic of the Jin, relies less on speed. He is similar in size to Lan Wangji and, though he is faster on his feet, he frequently stays within Lan Wangji’s reach, attracting blows from one direction so he can dive the opposite way and lash out at Lan Wangji’s unprotected areas. Despite his inferior strength, his blows leave Lan Wangji sore and effectively weakened, which forces Lan Wangji to better protect himself even when targeting his opponent.

            Unexpectedly, by the end of their spar, Lan Wangji finds he’s learned quite a bit. He’s also quietly pleased to note that both Luo Qingyang and Jin-gongzi are short of breath, while his own breathing remains carefully regulated. Do not be prideful, he chides himself. But still he must repress a smile as Luo Qingyang huffs, falling into a sitting position on the steps of the boardwalk beside the training grounds, and says, “Lan-er-gongzi truly lives up to his reputation.”

            He nods in acknowledgement of her compliment. “Luo-guniang and Jin-gongzi are worthy opponents.”

            Luo Qingyang laughs, reclining back against the stairs and grinning. “High praise from you.” She holds up one finger to wag at him, her grin turning teasing. “Also, I thought I told you to call me Mianmian.”

            “Mn,” he says, because she did tell him so.

            “Ah, Lan-er-gongzi, breaking rules.” She shakes her head. “How improper.”

            “Don’t be so formal,” Jin-gongzi says in agreement, awkwardly shifting in place where he stands beside Luo Qingyang. He meets Lan Wangji’s eye for a moment and then looks away hurriedly, scowling. “We’re—friends, aren’t we? It’s strange to call us by titles.” Jin-gongzi blushes rather horribly, from his cheeks straight down his neck.

            Lan Wangji presses his lips to repress his smile and says, “As you wish, Jin-xiong.”

            Jin Zixuan splutters, cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “You—!”

            Luo Qingyang laughs brightly and Lan Wangji looks at her, beaming wide enough to stretch her cheeks and squint her eyes, and he can’t help the small smile that escapes his restraint. Luo Qingyang’s laughter stutters suddenly as she looks back at him. Her wide grin settles into something smaller, less teasing, and she continues to look at him so even as he presses his lips back into a line.

            Before she can give any likely-teasing response, voices come, getting louder with each word. “—exam is only a week away, Nie-xiong! If you don’t practice, you’re sure to fail, and then you’ll have to tell your brother you failed the physical exam. You don’t want that, do you?”

            Nie Huaisang whines. It must be him; no one else whines quite like Nie-er-gongzi. “Wei-xiong, stop bullying your poor friend.”

            “Bullying? This isn’t bullying, I’ll show you—” Wei Wuxian stops in the middle of his sentence as he, Nie Huaisang, and Jiang Wanyin suddenly step into view of the sparring grounds. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen dramatically and he runs the last few steps to the grounds—running is forbidden, Lan Wangji doesn’t say. “Lan Zhan,” he says, darting his eyes between Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan. “Were you sparring with the peacock?”

            Jin Zixuan calls out indignantly and Lan Wangji presses his lips to restrain his frown. He knows why Wei Wuxian disapproves of Jin Zixuan, and while he agrees that Jin Zixuan treats Jiang-guniang unfairly, he still finds himself pressed to defend his friend. With a nod to Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji says, “Jin-xiong is a capable sparring partner.”

            Wei Wuxian’s eyes, impossibly, widen even further. “Jin-xiong?”

            Luo Qingyang shoots onto her feet, bowing to Wei Wuxian and then Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin standing behind him. “We have no more use of the training grounds today, gongzis. We will leave it to you.”

            Lan Wangji bows, Jin Zixuan doing so as well, though it appears rather begrudging on his part. Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin bow in return, but Wei Wuxian continues to stand in place, staring, mouth agape. When Lan Wangji straightens, he says, “Close one’s mouth unless one intends to speak.”

            Luo Qingyang ducks her chin to hide her smile, Nie Huaisang tucks his own behind his fan, and Jin Zixuan doesn’t attempt to hide his at all. Wei Wuxian closes his mouth, apparently not intending to speak, so Lan Wangji nods in parting and makes his way off the sparring grounds with Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang.

            “I’ve never seen Wei Wuxian speechless before,” Luo Qingyang says with a small laugh, when they’re out of earshot.

            Jin Zixuan glances sideways at Lan Wangji and looks away quickly. Quiet and stilted, he says, “Thank you for defending me.” He winces preemptively. “Lan-xiong?” He immediately makes a face and shakes his head. “No, sorry, that’s just—too strange.”

            Lan Wangji nods back. “Jin Zixuan.”

            Jin Zixuan sighs in relief. “Lan Wangji.”

            “Look at you two.” Luo Qingyang nudges her shoulder into Jin Zixuan’s and then shoots Lan Wangji a grin around him. “Communicating! Effectively, even.” Lan Wangji frowns at her as Jin Zixuan glares, but Luo Qingyang merely laughs at them.

            Lan Wangji—doesn’t mind.

*~*~*

            “Lan Wangji!”

            Lan Wangji pauses on his way to the library and turns, allowing Jin Zixuan to catch up to him. When Jin Zixuan reaches him, panting slightly, Lan Wangji says, “No running in Cloud Recesses.”

            Jin Zixuan pauses regaining his breath to glare mildly. “I had to catch you before you ran off.” Lan Wangji presses his lips. He’s never “run off” in his life. Jin Zixuan winces but ignores this fact. “Mianmian wanted me to ask you to join us for lunch in Caiyi Town, since we have the day off.”

            Lan Wangji blinks. He’d been planning on starting the essay due next week, since his afternoon work sessions have significantly diminished recently. He knows most of the disciples are using the free time to go into town and enjoy themselves, but the thought of doing so hadn’t occurred to him.

            “I’ll pay, of course,” Jin Zixuan continues, shifting in place the longer Lan Wangji takes to respond. Lan Wangji takes a few moments longer to remain silent and Jin Zixuan, growing even more awkward, says, “What, do you have something better to do?” and then immediately flushes at his own rudeness.

            Lan Wangji suppresses his smile and says, “I will go.”

            Jin Zixuan, still flushing down his neck, says, “We’ll meet at the gates around noon.”

            Lan Wangji nods, Jin Zixuan nods back, and then he makes a hasty retreat. Lan Wangji diverts his course from the library to the jingshi to change into robes more appropriate for an outing and retrieve his money pouch. Regardless of Jin Zixuan’s offering to pay, it’s best not to go out without money, just in case. He spends a short while meditating, waiting for noon to arrive. When it does, he promptly leaves for the front entrance, only to be stopped on his way by Wei Wuxian.

            “Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian waves dramatically and hurries down the porch to catch up with Lan Wangji. Before Lan Wangji can list the rules he’s just broken—running is forbidden, causing noise is forbidden, smiling foolishly is forbidden—Wei Wuxian says, “I’m going into town for the afternoon.” Lan Wangji suspected as much. Wei Wuxian can drink outside of Cloud Recesses, so he would likely take every chance to leave. Lan Wangji says nothing. Wei Wuxian grins anyway. “Lan Zhan, do you—”

            “Wei Wuxian, what’re you doing?” Jiang Wanyin glares from the other end of the porch they stand on. “Stop bothering Lan-er-gongzi!” He walks swiftly up to them, just on the slower side of running. He bows hurriedly at Lan Wangji and then hisses to Wei Wuxian, “If you get yourself punished, I’m not bringing you anything from town.”

            Wei Wuxian pouts. “I wasn’t bothering him. I was asking Lan Zhan if he wanted to join us.”

            Lan Wangji blinks. Wei Wuxian wants him to go to town with them? Surely he thinks Lan Wangji would criticize them for everything and ruin their fun. Wei Wuxian constantly calls him a stick in the mud. Even teasing Lan Wangji couldn’t be worth jeopardizing his own fun.

            “I’m sure he has better things to do than babysit you,” Jiang Wanyin says, darting frowns at Lan Wangji in between glaring at Wei Wuxian.

            “It won’t be babysitting! It’ll be fun!” Wei Wuxian turns to Lan Wangji, grinning once again. “Will you come, Lan Zhan?”

            Lan Wangji’s stomach turns uncomfortably at Wei Wuxian’s smile. He sympathizes deeply with Luo Qingyang’s troubles in this moment. “I cannot,” he says, and his stomach turns over once again when Wei Wuxian’s smile drops. “I am going to lunch with friends.” He glances away from Wei Wuxian, towards the path that will take him to the front gates. “I must meet them now.”

            “Oh.” Wei Wuxian looks down, apparently unaware of how Jiang Wanyin has begun to glare heatedly at Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian glances up, face still tilted down, so he looks at Lan Wangji through his eyelashes. Lan Wangji’s chest feels tight. He’s sure the two things are unrelated. “Have fun, then.”

            “Mn.” Lan Wangji really must be going or he’s going to be late—and if he stays here a moment longer under Wei Wuxian’s gaze, he may react—unpredictably. He bows shallowly to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin and then takes his leave at a slightly quicker pace than usual. He finds Luo Qingyang and Jin Zixuan waiting for him just beyond the front gate, Luo Qingyang speaking with some other members of her sect and Jin Zixuan hovering awkwardly beside her.

            As Lan Wangji approaches, Luo Qingyang’s sect members notice him quickly and all turn and bow to him, several of them tittering quietly as they do. He bows in return. The foremost one straightens up and smiles teasingly at Luo Qingyang. “We’ll leave you to your lunch,” she says pointedly. With that she and her counterparts all turn and mount their swords, giggling and whispering amongst themselves.

            Jin Zixuan scowls as they take off. “I can’t believe they think I’m chaperoning your date. As if I don’t have better things to be doing.”

            “We could invite Jiang-guniang and then they’d think it was a double date,” Luo Qingyang says innocently. Jin Zixuan flushes down his neck and immediately mounts his sword, all but running away. As he takes off, Luo Qingyang laughs. “I know it’s cruel to tease him,” she says, to Lan Wangji’s reproachful expression, “but he just makes it so easy.”

            Lan Wangji says, “Mn,” because Jin Zixuan does make it rather easy.

            They arrive in Caiyi in short time, with good weather to guide their trip. Luo Qingyang chooses the restaurant and they’re seated at a removed table towards the back, away from the noise, since they’re recognized as gentry who will likely pay well. The waiter comes to serve them and Luo Qingyang requests two bottles of Emperor’s Smile and some tea for the table. As the waiter hurries off to fulfill her request, Jin Zixuan chastises her for purchasing alcohol.

            “We aren’t in Cloud Recesses,” Luo Qingyang says. “Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t mind, right?”

            “No.” While he himself won’t be drinking, outside of Cloud Recesses the guest disciples are bound by no rules regarding alcohol. Luo Qingyang grins at this and, when their drinks are delivered, sips triumphantly from her bottle.

            Jin Zixuan drinks more tentatively from his own and his eyebrows raise in surprised pleasure, but as he sees Lan Wangji looking he quickly frowns and says, “The liquor in Lanling is superior.” Lan Wangji, having never sampled either, remains silent on the matter.

            Luo Qingyang doesn’t. “It’s superior if your only desire is to get drunk. This is actually pleasant to drink.”

            “Who drinks to stay sober?” Jin Zixuan argues back, and the pair of them go on in this vein until the waiter returns to take their food orders. Lan Wangji remains quiet throughout the lunch—speaking during meals is forbidden—but he finds it quite pleasant to listen to Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang talk. Frequently their conversation devolves into seemingly petty arguments, most of which Luo Qingyang wins just by virtue of being less awkward than Jin Zixuan, but they also talk of their home with mutual fond disdain, telling stories of their childhood in Koi Tower, their teachers and sect family, Madam Jin’s eccentricities.

            “She once tried to warn Jin Zixuan off befriending me, worried that it would imply things,” Luo Qingyang says, loosened with alcohol and gesturing extensively. “But she tried to do it politely, so she wouldn’t say my name. Just kept saying he should be careful which women he befriends, who he associates with, things like that. But he doesn’t see me as a woman, apparently—”

            “Because you’re Mianmian,” Jin Zixuan interjects here in his defense, but Luo Qingyang continues as if he hasn’t spoken.

            “—so he had no idea what she meant and eventually Madam Jin just gave in and said it directly and he got even more confused!” Luo Qingyang laughs brightly, sipping from her jar, as Jin Zixuan turns redder than the alcohol already has him.

            “Because who could think I’d ever romance you?” Jin Zixuan says, making an expression of disgust. “You’re like my sister. And you bully me.”

            Luo Qingyang waves dismissively. “You need someone to bully you, otherwise you’d be insufferable.”

            Lan Wangji watches on as Jin Zixuan splutters indignantly and allows himself a slight smile, assured in his lunch companions’ distraction. Having friends is rather nice.

*~*~*

            After lectures one day, Lan Wangji spends his free time meditating in a pavilion nearby the jingshi. It’s a somewhat cloudy day, but the stone where he sits has been warmed by the morning sun, keeping him rather comfortable as he lets his mind clear. The breeze carries the scent of damp earth and summer, and the sound of singing birds and rushing water in the distance. With his eyes closed, the world is a calm place of softness, perfect for meditation in every way.

            “Lan Zhan!”

            Lan Wangji jolts. He opens his eyes and squints at the brightness, Wei Wuxian quickly coming into view. Running is forbidden, causing noise is forbidden, smiling foolishly is—

            “I finally found you,” Wei Wuxian says, collapsing onto his knees in front of Lan Wangji. The movement displaces Lan Wangji’s robes, previously settled neatly about himself. He restrains himself from smoothing them pointedly. “Zewu-jun said you were meditating in one of the pavilions but Cloud Recesses has so many pavilions! Even more than Lotus Pier, but not as many as Koi Tower.” Wei Wuxian makes a face. “The Jin probably counted how many pavilions all the other sects had and then doubled it on purpose just to outspend them.” Expression giving way to another smile, he leans towards Lan Wangji. “But I found you.”

            Wei Wuxian did find him. Lan Wangji says nothing.

            Wei Wuxian’s smile grows larger—smiling foolishly is forbidden. But—how could such a beautiful smile be forbidden? Lan Wangji frowns at his own thought. Luo Qingyang’s poetic speech has unfortunately affected him. “I didn’t come here just to disturb you,” Wei Wuxian says. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

            A part of Lan Wangji would like to close his eyes and try to meditate again in the hopes that it would send Wei Wuxian away. The larger part of Lan Wangji knows this wouldn’t deter Wei Wuxian in the slightest. The smallest part that shouldn’t even really have the capacity to voice such a thought wishes to never stop looking at Wei Wuxian. Ridiculous.

            “Ah, well.” Wei Wuxian leans even closer. The breeze now carries the scent of Wei Wuxian and the sound of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji really sympathizes with Luo Qingyang’s many plights. Wei Wuxian squints. “Are you friends with Mianmian?”

            Lan Wangji blinks mildly in surprise. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting—something teasing, probably, an offer to break a rule that he’d have to turn down and punish—but at least this question has a simple answer. He nods.

            Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen. “Really?”

            Lan Wangji nods a second time. Usually he wouldn’t deign to repeat himself, but Wei Wuxian appears genuinely confused.

            Wei Wuxian is the one to blink now and he does so rapidly. “Oh,” he says, gaze settling somewhere behind Lan Wangji’s head. “Wow.”

            “Wei Wuxian?”

            Wei Wuxian suddenly shakes himself, smiling strangely at the same point behind Lan Wangji’s head. “Ah, that’s all I wanted to ask, thank you, Lan Zhan.” He bows quickly. “This one will stop bothering you now.” He hurries onto his feet and out of the courtyard before Lan Wangji can say anything – fortunate, since the words waiting poised on his lips were slightly embarrassing. Your presence never bothers me. It isn’t even true. He’s been listening to Luo Qingyang for too long.

            Lan Wangji stares at the empty space Wei Wuxian just vacated for some time before closing his eyes and attempting to regain his earlier calm. This, unfortunately, appears to be a lost cause.

*~*~*

            At the start of lectures, Lan Wangji had been looking forward to the time when the guest disciples would leave and Cloud Recesses would become quiet once again. Considering the excitement at the end of term, he ought to be doubly content to return to a familiar and unexciting home.

            Lan Wangji could hardly list everything that happened on all his fingers. Between finding the Waterborne Abyss, getting punished for drinking, falling into Cold Pond Cave, and learning of the Yin Iron, Lan Wangji nearly uses up a whole hand. Then, of course, he’d set off lanterns with Wei Ying—I wish to always stand with justice and live with no regrets—and after ruining the last shred of Lan Wangji’s self-restraint in regard to him, Wei Ying had promptly gone and punched Lan Wangji’s friend in the face. Regardless of Luo Qingyang’s assertion that Jin Zixuan deserved it, Lan Wangji can’t help but despair at where he’s laid his affections.

            Ridiculous. He loves a ridiculous man.

            The events during their search for the Yin Iron soundly use up the rest of Lan Wangji’s remaining fingers—fighting the Dancing Fairy statue, freeing the puppets, Xue Yang massacring the Chang clan, meeting Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen, Wei Ying sleeping on Lan Wangji’s roof in the Unclean Realm. And that’s all with broad summarizations. Truly, Lan Wangji ought to be exhausted from all this fuss.

            And he is, to some extent, relieved to be home once again. With all the danger looming on their doorstep, it’s pleasant to just help Uncle teach disciples, read alone in the library, meditate in the jingshi, and practice sword forms for now. But as the weeks pass, he finds himself missing the guest disciples. He misses Wei Ying, of course. As much turmoil as he’d caused Lan Wangji, it’s as Luo Qingyang repeatedly said—how could he wish for anything but seeing the object of his affections?

            Aside from Wei Ying, though, he misses Luo Qingyang and Jin Zixuan. He’d become accustomed to spending several days a week in the library with them, the pair of them speaking louder than the library dictated, Lan Wangji not admonishing them. He misses Luo Qingyang’s flowery language in her lamentations, misses Jin Zixuan’s awkward manner, misses making them laugh with his short replies. It’s a strange sensation, to miss people. He hasn’t missed anyone since—since Mother.

            On the first of the month following the guest disciples’ departure, he makes his usual trip to the gentian house. He kneels before the door and speaks softly to the flowers, talking of his friends, of Wei Ying, how strange it is to miss their presence. He speaks of how much he thinks Mother would like Luo Qingyang and Wei Ying, how they remind him of her. He speaks of how Jin Zixuan is more like himself, in his awkwardness, but he thinks Mother would like that, too.

            When the sun has sunk low in the sky and the early autumn chill greets him, Lan Wangji presses his hands more firmly into his lap and says, “Mother. I am—grateful. That Luo Qingyang is like me. That she chose to befriend me. I am grateful to be the way that I am, for it brought me her.”

            It sounds silly to say it aloud—ought he want to be like his peers? would it not be simpler that way?—but he can’t wish to be any different, not in this. His friendship with Luo Qingyang, with Jin Zixuan, his love for Wei Ying. They are—good. To wish away how he loves would be to wish them away too. How could he do that?

            As dusk begins to settle fully, Lan Wangji stands. He bows deeply to the doors of the gentian house and returns home to find a pair of letters waiting for him in the jingshi. Both bear the seal of the Jin sect and both are addressed to Lan Wangji Lan-er-gongzi.

            In her first letter, Luo Qingyang goes on for several pages about the women she met on her travels, breaking off periodically to complain about her sect siblings and—more subtly—her sect leader. She remarks that Koi Tower hasn’t changed in our absence, despite my foolish hopes and how am I meant to go back to sparring with anyone but the revered Lan-er-gongzi? and, abashedly, I miss you terribly, Lan Wangji.

            Her second letter details more of the happenings at Koi Tower, with an obvious bias towards a girl in the kitchens who hasn’t snitched on Luo Qingyang for taking extra sweets, and do you think that means she likes me, Lan Wangji? I think I love her, so it would be nice if she returned my affections at least mildly. She includes, in her farewell paragraph, that Jin Zixuan is well. As obnoxious as ever, but there’s little to be done about that.

            Lan Wangji finishes reading and is somewhat surprised to find himself smiling, alone in the jingshi. He must wait until after dinner to start his reply, writing under candlelight, and though usually he finds responding to correspondence quite tedious, it’s easy to answer Luo Qingyang’s many questions, advise her on her romantic tribulations, and respond in kind with stories of his own home. He normally dislikes talking about himself, but he imagines Luo Qingyang’s jealousy upon hearing of his night hunt with Wei Ying (and Nie Huaisang, Jiang Wanyin, and Wen-guniang), imagines her delight upon learning of the rabbits that now roam the back hill, imagines her laughter upon reading the seemingly innocuous, dry jokes he embeds in his recounting, and it makes the words come easier.

            He even stays up past curfew writing his reply, so he hastily bids farewell and then adds a quick postscript mentioning that Lanling Jin ought to be aware of the Wen and possible dangers that could arise. The next morning, upon waking, he rereads his letter once before sending it off to Koi Tower, some of the strange ache at missing Luo Qingyang now mellowed.

            Another week passes by and he receives a response from Luo Qingyang and a second, shorter letter from Jin Zixuan. Luo Qingyang’s letter remarks on Lan Wangji’s missive—A night hunt with Wen Qing? Are you trying to make me jealous, Lan Wangji? and Rabbits? This I must see! and Jin Zixuan and I have spoken to the Jin general about the Wen, we can’t promise anything from Jin Guangshan but we’ll do our best to support you—and then she quickly devolves into talk of a seamstress in town with the most nimble fingers Luo Qingyang has ever seen.

            Jin Zixuan’s letter is shorter and stilted but faithful to who he is as a person and Lan Wangji enjoys reading it as well. Like himself, Jin Zixuan doesn’t enjoy the politics of being sect heir, and complains, among other things, about all the meetings he has to sit through despite not actually doing anything. I might as well be a courtesan, as all I do is sit and look pretty! Jin Zixuan wrote and apparently tried to blot out with little success. Lan Wangji sympathizes, even if he would never write it out in such a way.

            A week after he responds, he receives another letter from Jin Zixuan, but in the postscript, Luo Qingyang has signed her name and written, He was jealous of our correspondence so I told him to write you himself and look, he did! He’s getting better at following directions. Jin Zixuan has added, below this, Just because I can wait longer than a month before writing someone doesn’t mean I’m copying her! They continue on in this way until they run out of paper and Lan Wangji finds he can hear the words in their voices.

            Lan Wangji writes them both back separately despite Luo Qingyang not technically sending a letter on her own and delivers both responses to be sent in the morning at the same time that Lan Xichen is sending his own missives. He smiles in pleasant surprise when he notices Lan Wangji and asks after his correspondents. Lan Wangji tells him and Lan Xichen’s smile grows in that rather intense way. Lan Wangji glances away. “I must go to breakfast,” he says and hurries away before Lan Xichen can say something embarrassing.

*~*~*

            Lan Wangji should have expected such peace not to last. With Wen Ruohan misusing the Yin Iron and absorbing smaller sects by force each day, it was foolish to expect everything would remain the same while the Lan sect prepared their response. When the demand comes for Lan Wangji to attend lectures with the Wens, Uncle dismisses it outright. “We won’t send Wangji to be a hostage,” he asserts, and despite Lan Xichen’s visible worry, he doesn’t push.

            Lan Wangji should’ve known the Wens would use it as an excuse.

            His home burns. Cloud Recesses is a school, not a fortress. Many of the disciples living there are young families, juniors. Lan Wangji stands in a cave with the surviving members of his sect, his uncle coughing up blood, his brother escaped, missing. He listens to his sect family being slaughtered beyond the entrance and the Yin Iron pulses against his chest.

            The Wens leave when he gives himself over. They drag him with them on his broken leg. Without rest, without medical attention, he cannot heal himself. Each step jolts his entire body, burns worse than any pain. Do not stand incorrectly. He doesn’t allow the Wen the pleasure of seeing him falter.

            At his slowed pace, the Wen soldiers quickly become frustrated with him. They taunt him with talk of his burned home, his missing brother, his ailing uncle. They are the ones who tell him his father has died. Do not grieve in excess. There isn’t space within him for grief.

            Do not succumb to rage. What would he do without it?

            Wen Xu delivers Lan Wangji to the Wen lectures and sneers at him, “Behave yourself.” Lan Wangji wonders if he could slit Wen Xu’s throat before the Wen soldiers around him could react. He imagines the bloody pleasure of it, the frozen shock on Wen Xu’s newly lifeless face, wonders if it would be worth dying over. He doesn’t decide before Wen Xu walks away.

            Lan Wangji doesn’t look at the other disciples as he carefully walks his way to the front of the procession. Wei Ying calls his name several times until Jiang Wanyin hisses at him to be quiet. It’s the first time Lan Wangji has been grateful for Jiang Wanyin. If he looked at any of them, looked away from Wen Chao’s smirk, he would lose grip on his rage, and that—cannot happen.

            Wen Chao makes them stand for hours as he talks. Somehow staying still is worse than movement. Lan Wangji can feel the bone resetting and breaking again endlessly, every small shift undoing careful work. He holds himself still but his body is tired, his core drained. He holds tight to his rage and remains unflinching. Do not stand incorrectly. Do not grieve in excess. Do not succumb to rage. He will not give them the pleasure of seeing him falter.

            When they demand Bichen, he hardly has the energy to protest. Jin Zixuan yells some things and Luo Qingyang mellows the conflict and Lan Wangji listens to none of it. With the Jin sect turning over their swords they are finally dismissed. Lan Wangji is directed to his quarters and immediately collapses on the edge of the bed. He breathes through the pain for several seconds and resettles his leg in a position that doesn’t hurt too badly.

            He doesn’t expect the Wen to send him medical assistance. He must be the one to inspect his injury. Not allowing himself hesitation, he tugs up his robes to survey the damage. The broken limb has swelled, the skin purpled and blackened up and down his shin. The puncture wound from the initial break has since clotted, but the blood remains, dried now. Lan Wangji knows little about medicine, but he knows how his body reacts to injuries and never before has he seen his own flesh look like this. Without at least several days of rest, he won’t be able to heal completely, and he doubts Wen Chao will give him leave.

            A sudden gasp has Lan Wangji looking upwards. Luo Qingyang stands in his quarters, eyes wide with horror, as Jin Zixuan climbs through the window behind her. “What are you gasping about—shit.” Jin Zixuan stands beside her, similarly affronted. Lan Wangji hurries to cover the injury and preserve his modesty, but Luo Qingyang rushes across the room to kneel in front of him and stills his hand.

            “Lan Wangji,” she says, stricken, “what did they do?”

            Lan Wangji shuts his eyes at her concern. Do not stand incorrectly. Do not grieve in excess. Do not succumb to—

            Luo Qingyang growls fiercely. “Oh, I’m going to make Wen Chao choke on his own dick and die.”

            The vulgarity of her statement surprises Lan Wangji into opening his eyes. Her hands hover around his leg, tentative and unsure, and Jin Zixuan stands behind her with the same air of indecision. Neither of them knows anything about medicine either, he’s sure.

            “Wasn’t Wen Chao,” Lan Wangji says, teeth clenched, the first words he’s managed since leaving home.

            Luo Qingyang looks up. “What happened?”

            Lan Wangji struggles for the words. She and Jin Zixuan wait. His gratitude for this threatens to choke him. “Wen Xu attacked Cloud Recesses. It burned.”

            “Those assholes.” Luo Qingyang glares, directing it behind Lan Wangji’s head, then his leg, and then she suddenly stands and starts storming about the room, opening drawers and cabinets furiously. Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji watch her in silent confusion until she returns with a bowl of water, some cloth, several belts, and a pair of fans.

            With her supplies, she kneels in front of Lan Wangji’s leg. “Jin Zixuan, help me.” Jin Zixuan hurries to sit beside her and follows her every order despite his obvious confusion as Luo Qingyang tends to Lan Wangji’s leg. First she cleans away the blood, her movements careful and gentle and somehow her tenderness hurts more than the touch. Then she rips out the paper from the fans and detaches the two wooden pieces to create a make-shift splint. It isn’t quite long enough to span Lan Wangji’s entire shin, but it’s better than nothing. She ties the belts around each piece of wood, loosely and then tighter when Lan Wangji doesn’t protest.

            It hurts, and Lan Wangji refuses to let himself falter, but—but these are his friends. They—he can allow them to see him waver. He could. He tries not to, but—he could.

            Luo Qingyang mutters to herself the entire time she works, when she isn’t telling Jin Zixuan to “hold it straight,” or “tighter, make it tighter.” She mutters mostly about the Wen sect heirs, how she wants to make Wen Chao suffocate on his own phallus, how she’ll shove her sword up Wen Xu’s rear. Jin Zixuan blushes at the imagery of her threats, but adds his own tamer ones during the lulls. “When we get out of here, I’m making my father go to war with the Wens, even if I have to threaten to publicly acknowledge all my half-siblings to do it,” he asserts, when they tighten the last of the belts and Lan Wangji can’t hold in his slight wince.

            Leg tended to, Luo Qingyang settles Lan Wangji’s robes back into place and then sits back on her heels. She looks up at Lan Wangji, her anger mellowed some with time. She asks quietly, “Are your brother and uncle alright?”

            Lan Wangji finds himself losing grip on his rage, in the face of her concern. His fists shake at his sides no matter how he demands them to still and his lips curl in a frown no matter how hard he attempts to press them into a line. Maintain your own discipline. He inhales slowly and, upon releasing the breath, says, “Brother escaped with our sacred texts. His location is unknown. Uncle is—unwell.” She didn’t ask after his father and he—wouldn’t know what to say about him anyway.

            Luo Qingyang stares back at him, silent, her eyes large and round, the tilt of her mouth sympathetic. Then suddenly she shoots upwards, careful of Lan Wangji’s injured leg, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. The way she clings musses the usually pristine lines of his robes. His shoulder dampens with what must be tears. Into the wet patch she swears, “We’ll make them pay. I promise you.”

            Lan Wangji shuts his eyes tightly. A soft, tentative pat on his free shoulder must be Jin Zixuan. The tension he’s held within him all day releases as if a string has been cut, his rage if not dissipating then quieting. Standing before Wen Chao alone, the sole disciple there to represent the Lan sect, his leg aching, his chest burning with his rage and grief—he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d felt, how abandoned, how lost. Despite his aversion to touch, under his friends’ care he finds himself comforted. He is not alone.

            He is not alone.

*~*~*

            Wen Chao, expectedly, doesn’t allow Lan Wangji the courtesy of resting. He stands through the morning lecture, walks through his punishment, strains his leg further defending Wei Ying from Wen Chao’s whip. By the end of the day, despite his makeshift splint, his leg throbs and doesn’t feel even slightly better. He returns to his quarters, intending to rest as much as possible, only for a knock to come at his door. He hurries onto his feet as it opens without his reply and Wen-guniang stands before him, a bag in her hands.

            Wen-guniang frowns. “Lan-er-gongzi, please sit.” When Lan Wangji doesn’t move, she steps into the room and nods at the Wen soldiers flanking her. The door shuts behind her, leaving them alone. When she turns back to him, her frown hasn’t softened, but her tone has. “Lan-er-gongzi, please sit. Luo-guniang asked me to tend to your injury.”

            Lan Wangji wants to refuse. Indebted or not, Wen-guniang still supports Wen Ruohan. But Luo Qingyang has asked her for assistance, at threat to her own sect’s welfare and in spite of her own feelings towards Wen-guniang. He can hear Luo Qingyang in his mind. Heavens above, Lan Wangji, just take the help.

            Lan Wangji sits. Wen-guniang kneels before him and raises his robes, apparently already aware of where the injury lies. She works efficiently, professionally, and does not speak. She hums approvingly over the makeshift splint but replaces it with a true one and applies a salve that, she says curtly, will help with bruising. When she’s finished, she replaces his robe and stands, frowning severely at Lan Wangji when he makes to do so as well.

            “Without rest, it will not heal,” Wen-guniang says, which is as much as he thought. She reaches into her bag and retrieves a small paper packet, which she hands to him. “Brew a tea with this and it should help with the pain.” With that, she turns to leave. At the door, though, she hesitates. Without turning towards him, she says quietly, “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

            Her ears, Lan Wangji supposes as she leaves, are rather nice.

            When Luo Qingyang and Jin Zixuan return that night—“We’ve been sneaking in and out of Koi Tower since we were seven, you really think some half-brained Wen soldiers are going to stop us?”—Luo Qingyang speaks of Wen-guniang’s ears extensively. Lan Wangji, loose from the effects of the tea, can only listen blankly as Luo Qingyang goes on about how beautiful, intelligent, and kind Wen-guniang is in between deep sighs and Jin Zixuan’s muttered remarks about how “we have bigger issues than her ears right now, don’t you think?”

            The next day, trekking through the mountains in search of a cave holding horrors Lan Wangji can only imagine, Lan Wangji struggles to keep up with the other disciples. The tea has worn off and though the proper splint keeps him from jostling his injury too harshly, each step jolts through him like a knife. Do not stand incorrectly. He is not among friends out here—not only friends, at least. He doesn’t allow Wen Chao the pleasure of seeing him falter.

            Even—especially—when Wei Ying offers to carry him.

            When they find the cave, they’re sent in like bait and Lan Wangji begins to plan for the moment when they can attack. The moment arises quite soon and then—as Luo Qingyang would likely put it—all hell breaks loose. A legendary beast arises from the water and the Wens flee like the cowards they are—though not before Wei Ying can get himself wounded protecting Luo Qingyang, and Lan Wangji would be more grateful for Wei Ying saving his friend if not for the fact that he could’ve very easily just knocked the brand aside rather than putting himself in front of it—and in the end of all the excitement Luo Qingyang collapses down onto a rock and cries.

            Now that they are no longer in the presence of the Wens, Lan Wangji can understand the urge. While the remaining sect heirs stand about her awkwardly, Lan Wangji kneels before her. “Mianmian,” he says, and she looks up, blinking rapidly in her surprise, new tears escaping with each movement. She stares at him for some moments before she nods and wipes her cheeks.

            “Right,” she says, “right. Let’s make them pay.”

            The plan is not ideal, but neither is their situation. They manage to find a second passageway out from the cave, but not all of them make it. As Lan Wangji and Wei Ying are stuck behind, Luo Qingyang sends him a look that leaves Lan Wangji with no doubt that she and Jin Zixuan will do all they can to return. Even still, Lanling is several days away on foot, leaving him and Wei Ying in the cave to wait. This time with Wei Ying passes slowly, but not entirely unpleasantly.

            “Your leg has been set!” Wei Ying remarks, upon having wrestled Lan Wangji’s robes up. He peers closer and Lan Wangji’s ears burn at his gaze. “This looks professionally done! Did Wen Qing do this?”

            “Mn.”

            Wei Ying grins. “That’s great! Isn’t she great?”

            Lan Wangji frowns. It would be rather unfortunate if the object of his affections and the object of Luo Qingyang’s affections ended up together. Though, at the very least, they’d have something else to bond over.

            Of course, when Lan Wangji admonishes Wei Ying for saving Luo Qingyang in the manner that he did, Wei Ying teases, “Lan Zhan, ah, do you like Mianmian?” and Lan Wangji feels assured in the fact that Wei Ying knows too little about the ways of romance to ever successfully court Wen-guniang.

            The tone of their time in the cave takes a sharp decline following their battle with the Xuanwu. Wei Ying clutches at the smoking sword and shivers and Lan Wangji tries to tend to him with bloodied hands. Wei Ying drifts in and out for days, sometimes lucid, sometimes not. Lan Wangji does his best to pretend to be the people Wei Ying believes him to be, plays Jiang Wanyin and Sect Leader Jiang and even Jiang-guniang for a time. He sings whenever Wei Ying asks, regardless of the role he plays. He could never refuse Wei Ying’s request for a song.

            Not when Wei Ying smiles every time he sings.

            When their rescue arrives, Lan Wangji has begun to succumb to the situation. Even with their fire, nights in the cave are cold, and they have no food, no drinkable water, and they are both extensively injured. Luo Qingyang and Jin Zixuan help him limp out of the cave while Jiang Wanyin carries out an unconscious Wei Ying. They make camp not far from the mouth of the cave, but with the troop of armed Jin disciples around them, Lan Wangji feels assured in their safety.

            That night, he accepts the medical attention, the food, the water, the shelter that they give him. He rests and wakes feeling better than he has in weeks and immediately rises to get back to Cloud Recesses.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” Luo Qingyang stands before him, her eyebrows raised, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

            Lan Wangji frowns. “Cloud Recesses needs me.”

            “They don’t need you walking to Gusu on a broken leg after a week of starving and shivering in a cave with a Xuanwu! You are not going anywhere, especially not on your own.”

            “Luo-guniang—” Lan Wangji starts to say, only for Luo Qingyang to quickly speak over him.

            “Don’t even try to use your disciplinarian voice on me, alright, you aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to get medical attention and rest and then someone will fly you back home when you’re better. Really, how could you think—hey, what do you think you’re—sit down—”

            As Lan Wangji tries to stand in the middle of her rant, she hurries to keep him from doing so. In his weakened state, she’s quick enough to kneel down and press her hands into his shoulders, effectively holding him in a seated position on the ground. She doesn’t waver even slightly despite the glare Lan Wangji turns on her.

            “Look at me like that all you want, I can do this all day,” she says, unrelenting. “If I get tired, Jin Zixuan will take over.” Behind her, Jin Zixuan flushes deeply at this, but doesn’t outwardly protest. “We’ll take shifts,” Luo Qingyang continues to threaten. “You’re not going anywhere.”

            “Mianmian—” Lan Wangji attempts to start again, only to be interrupted once again, but this time not by Luo Qingyang.

            “Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying, newly conscious, blinks wide, round eyes at the scene before him—Lan Wangji seated, Luo Qingyang kneeling before him, holding him to the ground. Lan Wangji’s ears heat at the indignity of his position, but before he can react, Wei Ying blurts out, “Lan Zhan, come back to Lotus Pier with us.”

            Lan Wangji blinks, momentarily surprised out of his embarrassment. Wei Ying wants—?

            Wei Ying’s cheeks flush immediately following his words, but he continues on as if he’s unaware. “Lotus Pier is closer to us, so it shouldn’t take too long to get there, even with your injury, and it’s closer to Gusu than Lanling, so when you do return home, it’ll be a shorter trip.”

            Jin Zixuan splutters. “That isn’t even true! We’re an equal distance right now between Lanling and Yunmeng, and the trip from Koi Tower to Cloud Recesses is less mountainous than from Lotus Pier, making it much easier.”

            Wei Ying glares, still red-faced, still stubborn. “Well, Lotus Pier has better doctors, and is way prettier than Koi Tower, which makes it an ideal place to rest while recovering from injuries!”

            “Koi Tower has the best medical professionals in the cultivation world and is twice as pretty as Lotus Pier!” Jin Zixuan retorts, also starting to flush, in that rather dreadful way that turns his whole neck pink.

            Jiang Wanyin, apparently affronted by the disparaging of his home, joins in to yell, “Lotus Pier is ten times as beautiful as your barren, rocky landscape!”

            Thus engaged, the three young masters argue loudly and unproductively, completely ignoring the original point of the confrontation which is that—Wei Ying asked Lan Wangji to come back home with him.

            Wei Ying asked Lan Wangji to come back home with him.

            Lan Wangji ought to return to Cloud Recesses. He has no idea how Uncle is, whether Brother made it out alright, what remains of his home, but—but Wei Ying asked him back to Lotus Pier. Not to tease him, not to compare it favorably to Cloud Recesses’ strictness, but because—because he wants Lan Wangji to recover there, wants to—to take care of Lan Wangji. It’s such a shameful thing to desire, but Lan Wangji can’t help it. He’s spent a week trapped in a cave with Wei Ying, wondering if these would be his final moments, believing the task of caring for Wei Ying to be a worthy endeavor to spend the rest of his life doing, and now—now Wei Ying wants, in some small way, to do the same.

            Lan Wangji ought to return to Cloud Recesses, but he wants—he wants—

            “Wei-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi,” Luo Qingyang says suddenly, the argument stuttering as she bows to Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin in turn. She smiles. “What a great idea! Lanling’s disciples would be pleased to escort you both and Lan-er-gongzi back to Lotus Pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

            Jiang Wanyin frowns, his eyebrows drawing together in a way that gives the impression that he’s mad, but that could just be his face. Wei Ying’s mouth parts rather ridiculously as he stares at Luo Qingyang. Jin Zixuan sputters for a moment before begrudgingly mirroring Luo Qingyang’s bow and saying, through gritted teeth, “The Jin sect appreciates the Jiang sect’s hospitality.”

            Wei Ying continues to gape for a few moments longer before grinning widely. “Then it’s settled!” Beside him, Jiang Wanyin sighs deeply, but voices no further argument.

            Luo Qingyang looks away from the young masters with the matter thus settled and her innocent smile turns smug as she directs it at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji narrows his eyes slightly at her.

            “So you’ll come, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, his smile so blatantly hopeful when Lan Wangji turns to look at him, and it’s not as if Lan Wangji can refuse him now. Lan Wangji nods and Wei Ying’s smile grows even wider. It’s ridiculous. And yet—anyone who knew Lan Wangji’s heart would know that he couldn’t turn down that smile.

            Lan Wangji looks back at Luo Qingyang sharply. If she were trying to stop him from walking back to Cloud Recesses, this would be an ideal method. Luo Qingyang has stopped minding him in favor of organizing the Jin disciples to prepare for their journey to Lotus Pier, but Lan Wangji watches her carefully. After she’s finished ordering everyone around, she turns back to Lan Wangji. Upon seeing his suspicious stare, she winks. Winks.

            With everything else going on, Lan Wangji decides he cannot deal with the implications of this right now. No, he thinks, with a glance towards Wei Ying, who continues to beam at him, he definitely doesn’t have time for that.

*~*~* 

            The journey doesn’t take long by sword. Without their own weapons, all the young masters and Luo Qingyang must ride with one of the Jin disciples. Jiang Wanyin insists on flying directly beside his brother on account of Wei Ying’s injuries and Luo Qingyang appears to find this a splendid idea as she does the same with Lan Wangji. “Tell me if your leg hurts and we’ll take a break,” she yells over the sound of the wind, and when Lan Wangji merely says, “Mn,” in response, she laughs. “I should know better than to ask you that,” she says, turning to smile at him. “You’re so stubborn, Lan-er-gongzi. At least I’ve found one way to guarantee you’ll listen.”

            Lan Wangji frowns, but can’t refute it, so he remains silent. This, too, prompts laughter from Luo Qingyang and he looks away, ears warming, to see Wei Ying already looking their way. He smiles upon meeting Lan Wangji’s gaze, but glances away before attempting to communicate further.

            Once they arrive in Lotus Pier, Jin Zixuan bows to Sect Leader Jiang and Madam Yu and explains the situation. Despite Sect Leader Jiang’s surprise and his wife’s only mildly disguised annoyance, they agree to house the Jin disciples and thank them for aiding Jiang Wanyin and Wei Ying. Luo Qingyang then hurries to add, “Lan-er-gongzi needs medical attention,” just as Wei Ying speaks up, “Lan Zhan needs a doctor!” They exchange a glance following this and Luo Qingyang rolls her eyes. Lan Wangji, his leg now aching from the trip here, is too distracted to focus on the interaction much.

            Jiang Wanyin grumbles to Wei Ying, “You need a doctor too, idiot,” and with the help of several Jin disciples, he guides Lan Wangji and Wei Ying to the medical pavilion. The doctors there all know Wei Ying and fret over him like mothers. Despite them being old enough to be such, Wei Ying flirts with them shamelessly. Lan Wangji remains still as the doctor examines his broken leg, cut-up hands, and drained golden core, but he cannot contain his annoyance when she prescribes that he remains on bedrest for several weeks.

            “Even a sword flight could prolong the healing process,” the doctor says, when Lan Wangji asks after returning to Cloud Recesses. Luo Qingyang stands at his bedside with her arms crossed over her chest, her smile much smugger than is becoming.

            “It’s alright, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says from the next bed, beaming and ignoring the doctors’ orders to stop moving, “this means you get to stay in Lotus Pier longer! You can try all the food, and when you’re better, I can show you around. You’ll have to come shoot kites with us, and pick lotus seeds, and go swimming, ooh, and—”

            As Wei Ying goes on, Luo Qingyang’s air of self-satisfaction only increases. Lan Wangji sighs and resigns himself to this for the next several weeks.

            It isn’t entirely unpleasant, of course. Sect Leader Jiang gives Lan Wangji a guest room near his children’s quarters to honor Lan Wangji’s station. This placement means he’s visited frequently by Wei Ying, who always brings food with him and spends most of their time together talking instead of eating, insisting Lan Wangji try more as he raves about all the people to meet and things to do around Lotus Pier. “Has shijie brought you soup yet?” he asks, a week into Lan Wangji’s mandated rest. “You have to try shijie’s soup! It’s the best!”

            When Luo Qingyang visits, she brings with her stories of her time here. Apparently, the Jiang sect is too polite to ask them to leave, so the Jin disciples have remained at Lotus Pier, spending their days practicing with the Jiang disciples in the ways of archery and sword fighting. Luo Qingyang, seemingly, has spent most of this training time staring after all the women at Lotus Pier.

            “Lan Wangji,” Luo Qingyang says, on a cool morning when Lan Wangji is just trying to enjoy his soup, “I know she’s scary, but have you seen Madam Yu?” She sighs deeply. “She could whip me with Zidian and I’d thank her.”

            Lan Wangji chokes mildly on his soup. “Luo Qingyang, please do not ask Madam Yu to whip you.”

            Another day, she walks into his room already talking, apparently unconcerned that she’s interrupted Lan Wangji’s reading. “I’m almost positive Madam Yu’s maids are together. Do you think they’d let me join them for a night if I asked?”

            Lan Wangji sighs deeply. “Luo Qingyang, may I borrow your sword?”

            She frowns. “What for?”

            “A sword wound would get me out of this conversation.”

            On a terribly rainy afternoon, Lan Wangji attempts to nap only to wake up to Luo Qingyang’s voice lamenting, “She made me soup. Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji, I know you’re not sleeping, wake up. You have to listen to me, this soup.”

            Lan Wangji can hardly remember why he missed her. (This is a lie.)

            Jin Zixuan also visits frequently, though his news is usually of the war or Jiang-guniang. The former he delivers perfunctorily, which Lan Wangji appreciates, while the latter he gets out in starts and stops, and Lan Wangji lets him work through his emotions in his own time. Apparently Jin Zixuan has also been privy to The Soup and, having tasted it himself, Lan Wangji can’t help but understand Jin Zixuan’s predicament.

            Jin Zixuan is also the one who delivers the news that Lan Xichen has returned safely. “He’s with Nie Mingjue in Qinghe, planning for the war,” Jin Zixuan says, reading from a letter. “We’ve sent news that you’re here so he knows you’re safe as well.”

            Lan Xichen’s responding letter arrives faster than couriers usually allow. The relief Lan Wangji receives upon seeing his brother’s familiar handwriting nearly embarrasses him with its intensity. Uncle is well, Lan Xichen writes, but Father did not survive the attack. Our texts were not damaged and I remain unharmed. Nie Mingjue and I are discussing possible plans of war and Sect Leader Jiang is doing his best to aid us from Lotus Pier, but the Jin sect has yet to declare a side.

            Lan Wangji finds it frustrating and ridiculous that Jin Guangshan would still refuse to join the war when he’s all but sent a platoon to help defend Lotus Pier. “Oh yeah, about that,” Luo Qingyang says with a mild wince when Lan Wangji brings this up. “We didn’t exactly ask when we took the Jin disciples.”

            Lan Wangji blinks several times.

            Luo Qingyang elaborates. “Jin Guangshan doesn’t deal directly with the disciples, so he won’t notice anyone missing. His general is on our side.” At Lan Wangji’s continuing stare, she clears her throat and gestures dismissively. “But anyway, the real point is that your brother is alright, your sect is rebuilding, and you can stop trying to sneak out in the middle of the night.”

            Lan Wangji takes a moment to feel affronted at her implication that he was hiding his attempts to leave. The first few daytime jailbreaks were simply unsuccessful and he adjusted his plans accordingly.

            Due to these unsuccessful attempts, Luo Qingyang and Jin Zixuan refuse to leave Lotus Pier before ensuring that Lan Wangji has properly healed. This results in both them and the Jin disciples remaining in Lotus Pier for much longer than Lan Wangji had anticipated. The doctors eventually advise him to work through simple sword forms to keep his muscles sharp and go on short walks to maintain his strength. Luo Qingyang takes up the first task with relish, finding enjoyment in pushing Lan Wangji through the simple movements and teasing him fondly when he struggles. Wei Ying takes up the second task, guiding Lan Wangji on walks around Lotus Pier, showing Lan Wangji his home with bright laughter and unflinching excitement.

            It’s easy to love Lotus Pier through Wei Ying’s eyes.

            “Here’s where I pushed Jiang Cheng into the lake for the first time,” he says, of a simple, run-down pier that would be easily dismissed. “He could swim fine, but he made a big fuss about swallowing lake water, so I swallowed some too to make him feel better and then we both got sick.” He smiles, eyes crinkling. “It’s alright, though, shijie made us soup until we got better.”

            At a street stall, he raves about the owner while gesturing extensively with the food in his hands. “He’s worked here longer than we’ve been alive, Lan Zhan! He used to sneak me snacks when Madam Yu sent me to bed without dinner. Now he’s too old to work the stall, but his daughter took over and she’s just as nice.” He gestures with the food they were given for free and grins. “No one on this pier will take my money, but I slip Jiang Cheng’s coins into their pockets when they aren’t looking.”

            On a rainy morning, Wei Ying takes Lan Wangji to his bedroom since they can’t go outside. “Ah, I know it’s messy, but I tried to clean it for you!” He scratches at his head, seemingly shy about his space, but Lan Wangji can hardly stand to look at him when there’s all this Wei Ying everywhere. The desk space full of half-written talismans and strange inventions; the dirty clothing piled on the floor by a closet filled with black garments and one deep purple robe that Lan Wangji suddenly, desperately wants to see Wei Ying wear; the unmade bed with carvings in the bedpost that Lan Wangji blushes to look at. Lan Wangji stands in Wei Ying’s bedroom and his heart—well, he understands Luo Qingyang’s dramatics.

            It’s an uneventful afternoon when Lan Wangji makes his way from his room to find Wei Ying and ask to possibly go on a walk when he sees Wen soldiers standing guard outside the main hall. With the borrowed training sword the Jiang sect gave him, he incapacitates them quickly and pushes his way into the main hall just in time to catch Zidian before it can make contact with Wei Ying.

            “How dare you!” Madam Yu raises her arm to strike again but Lan Wangji does not move from in front of Wei Ying. Apparently hesitant to strike another sect’s heir, Madam Yu pauses, and in this moment, Jiang Wanyin steps in front of both Lan Wangji and Wei Ying and says, “Mother, don’t listen to her, please.” This is when Lan Wangji notices Wang Lingjiao.

            Several things happen very quickly. Wang Lingjiao, upon Lan Wangji’s entrance and Madam Yu’s hesitance, runs to the window and sets off a flare. Madam Yu’s maids dispatch the remaining Wen soldiers in the room and Madam Yu, apparently eager to use her raised whip, knocks Wang Lingjiao to the ground in one movement. Wen Zhuliu arrives just in time to witness it and he and Madam Yu exchange a few short words before battle commences.

            Lan Wangji doesn’t have time to think about his newly recovered injury before joining the fight. Wen soldiers flood in from all sides, Jiang disciples attempting to meet them, but they’re quickly outnumbered. Lan Wangji does his best to protect Wei Ying, who appears shaken and distracted even as he fights to keep Jiang Wanyin safe with little regard for himself. Jiang Wanyin’s focus is similarly split between the battle and his mother, who fights Wen Zhuliu fiercely along with her two maids. When Jiang Wanyin defeats the soldier before him, he turns to aid her only for Madam Yu to yell, “Stay away!”

            Jiang Wanyin doesn’t disguise his hurt at her snubbing his help, but Madam Yu doesn’t explain why she wishes her son to stay away from a man nicknamed Core-Melting Hand. Lan Wangji finds a moment in the fighting to huff mildly at Jiang Wanyin’s obtuseness.

            The battle continues on, but the Jiang disciples are slowly waning under the Wens’ onslaught, when suddenly a flurry of gold enters the pavilion. Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang lead the Jin disciples into battle, taking down Wen soldiers easily, being fresh to the fight and a wholly unexpected force. With their aid, the battle turns, and Wen soldiers fall with nearly every swipe of a blade. The few Wen soldiers that don’t die turn and flee, leaving ultimately only corpses and Wen Zhuliu. Madam Yu—fighting alone now, her maids injured behind her—is the final victim of the attack.

            Jiang Wanyin screams, but there is nothing he can do before Wen Zhuliu’s hand closes around Madam Yu’s neck. With the last of her spiritual power, Madam Yu strangles Wen Zhuliu with Zidian as he uses his last moments to melt her core.

            They fall to the ground, Wen Zhuliu a corpse and Madam Yu—an ordinary person. Jiang Wanyin runs to his mother, pushing away the dead body to hold her in his arms. He cries freely. Madam Yu, pale, hand shaking, reaches up to dry his tears. “Foolish boy,” she says fiercely, “don’t cry.”

            At this moment, Sect Leader Jiang returns from his trip to Lanling. “My lady,” he says, with quite visible anguish, and he and Jiang-guniang rush to Madam Yu’s side. In an attempt to give the family privacy, the Jin and remaining Jiang disciples begin to tend to the wounded and clear away the bodies of the fallen. Wei Ying stands just beyond the circle of the Jiang family, his cheeks tear stained, his shoulders shaking.

            Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to do to make it better, but he finds he cannot leave Wei Ying’s side, not when he stands alone. From staring at him in desperation, Lan Wangji notices that Wei Ying bleeds from a wound in his side and, alarmed, Lan Wangji says, “Wei Ying.”

            Wei Ying blinks several times, tears escaping, before his vision clears and he turns. “Lan Zhan,” he says dazedly. “Are you alright?”

            “Wei Ying, you are bleeding.”

            Wei Ying notices his wound for seemingly the first time. “Oh,” he says blankly, staring at the darkening patch on his robes. Lan Wangji spares a glance for the Jiang family, still huddled around Madam Yu’s conscious but prone form, and then takes Wei Ying gently by the wrist to lead him to the medical pavilion. The doctors are busy caring for patients worse than Wei Ying, so Lan Wangji gathers supplies he thinks will be useful and returns to where Wei Ying sits. He prompts Wei Ying to reveal the wound, the situation too fraught to be distracted by bared skin, but upon seeing the gash in Wei Ying’s side, Lan Wangji realizes with some desperation that he has no idea what to do.

            “Lan Wangji.” He blinks and looks up to find Luo Qingyang standing above him, her eyes kind, her mouth a firm line. “Let me.” Her lips quirk. “Listening to Wen Qing talk for hours wasn’t all for nothing.”

            Lan Wangji doesn’t know words for the gratitude lodged in his throat. Wei Ying remains silent as Luo Qingyang stitches his wound, doesn’t flirt or annoy or move. Lan Wangji watches on and wishes he had the words to make it better, wishes he could be like Luo Qingyang or Lan Xichen, wishes he could—reach out and offer comfort. Ultimately, he just sits, silent, watching, useless.

            In time, Madam Yu is brought into the medical pavilion. She disappears into a separate room, a flurry of doctors following her, none but Sect Leader Jiang permitted in. Jiang-guniang and Jiang Wanyin stand listlessly outside the door for some time before they turn to face the pavilion, their eyes landing on Wei Ying. Jiang-guniang hurries over, Jiang Wanyin following at a more subdued pace. “A-Xian,” Jiang-guniang says gently, upon reaching Wei Ying’s bedside. She brushes hair from Wei Ying’s forehead. “Are you alright?”

            Watching Wei Ying grin hurts Lan Wangji deep in his chest. “Of course, shijie. It’s hardly a scratch.” Jiang-guniang’s smile wavers on her lips, her tear-stained cheeks stretched around it, and Lan Wangji can’t look at either of them a moment longer.

            “Lan Wangji, bandage,” Luo Qingyang says, and Lan Wangji hurries to hand her some spare cloth, grateful for the task. He helps Wei Ying sit up as Luo Qingyang wraps his lower torso tightly. “I don’t know much about medicine, but you should be careful about this whole area until it heals.”

            “Thanks, Mianmian.” Wei Ying turns his broken grin on her and Luo Qingyang presses her lips. With a nod towards Lan Wangji, she leaves to help out somewhere else. Lan Wangji ought to do the same, and now that Wei Ying’s siblings are with him, there’s no reason to stay—

            Lan Wangji’s kept from walking away by a hand curled in his outer robes. He looks down, frowning, to see the hand belongs to Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who continues to grin at his sister and talk nonsense at her, who doesn’t look at Lan Wangji as he clings to his robe. Lan Wangji stares at his hand long enough for his vision to blur and he blinks, forcing himself to look up.

            He finds himself caught in Jiang Wanyin’s stare. His face is blotchy and red, but his eyes are fierce. Lan Wangji can’t tell whether or not Jiang Wanyin is threatening him to stay or go, but Lan Wangji wouldn’t untangle Wei Ying’s fingers on threat of death, so Lan Wangji stays beside him and doesn’t say a word.

*~*~*

            When the bodies of the dead have been dealt with and the servants of Lotus Pier have set to scrubbing the blood from its walls, the Jin disciples and Lan Wangji prepare to depart. With the attack on Lotus Pier, the war has truly started in earnest, and with the Jin’s inarguable involvement, even Jin Guangshan can’t keep his sect from joining the fight. Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang plan to return home to organize aid to the current battles and fight on the front themselves.

            Luo Qingyang hugs Lan Wangji before they depart. She tells him, demands, “I’ll see you again soon,” and Lan Wangji says, “Mn,” and her eyes glisten as she hugs him a second time, regardless of the fact that he didn’t return the first one.

            Jin Zixuan merely nods in parting, his hand white-knuckled on his borrowed sword. As different as his friends’ goodbyes are, Lan Wangji appreciates them both regardless.

            Lan Wangji also plans to leave, but he stays another night at Wei Ying’s behest. Late, but not after Lan Wangji’s usual bedtime, Wei Ying knocks on his door with a dizi in hand and asks Lan Wangji to teach him Cleansing. “Don’t ask me why,” he says, his hair down as he stands in his sleeping robes, his expression as open as it ever is. Lan Wangji couldn’t refuse him if he wanted to.

            It only takes a few renditions of the song on Lan Wangji’s guqin for Wei Ying to memorize it. “My memory works in the strangest ways,” Wei Ying says with a brittle smile when Lan Wangji compliments him. “I’ve always had a good ear for music, and I can remember embarrassing stories about Jiang Cheng with ease, and I couldn’t forget the Lan disciplines now if I tried.”

            Lan Wangji presses his fingertips lightly into the wood of his guqin. Wei Ying can play Cleansing now, which means he can suppress resentful energy. Lan Wangji remembers well how Wei Ying clung to that sword in the cave of the Xuanwu. He wants to ask, wants to demand an answer, but—he promised.

            Instead, he says, “Wei Ying would do well to remember discipline 71.”

            “Discipline 71?” Wei Ying’s mouth quirks. “Isn’t that—oh.” He blinks mutely at Lan Wangji for a few moments before forcing a short laugh. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I’m alright.”

            Wei Ying is not alright. Lan Wangji doesn’t say this, but judging by the way Wei Ying looks away, he hears it anyway. Lan Wangji merely recites the rule. “Love and respect oneself.” It’s easier than coming up with his own words.

            Wei Ying stands hurriedly and bows. “Thank you for teaching me, Lan Zhan. This one will stop bothering you now.” He leaves before Lan Wangji can respond. Your presence never bothers me.

            The next morning, Lan Wangji bows to the assembled Jiang family. He expresses his gratitude for their hospitality and the borrowed sword they’ve given him. Along with Madam Yu, Wei Ying is not present.

            The trip back home is short. Lan Wangji refuses to let his mind wander as he walks, then rides by horseback, then walks further. He hardly pauses at all on the way. He finds Cloud Recesses better than he’d left it, but undeniably scorched. Few buildings remain standing, entire swathes of trees burned to nothing, pavilions massacred, previously white rocks now stained red.

            Upon seeing Lan Wangji, Uncle stops speaking with a disciple mid-sentence and embraces him. He immediately embarrasses both of them but Lan Wangji, under his burning ears, is grateful for it. Grateful for the chance to be embarrassed by Uncle’s affection.

            Lan Xichen and the surviving battle-ready disciples are on the war front. Though Lan Wangji longs to join them, Cloud Recesses is lacking in able bodies. Perhaps guilty over his time away, perhaps just reluctant to leave Uncle alone again so quickly, Lan Wangji stays for some time. Caiyi Town has supplied as many workers and materials as they can spare and Lan Wangji helps the masons rebuild the skeletons of his home, deferring to their knowledge in the frequent moments he is unsure. He works with farmers to replant their crops, spends long nights by candlelight copying out the fragmented passages of their damaged texts. He’s fought but one battle and yet he finds himself reluctant to leave for another. Here, he can build things, fix things. Here, there is no bloodshed, no violence, no loss. Here there are only new homes for grateful families, green sprouts peeking through the soil, restored books to teach the next generation from.

            On the afternoon that Lan Xichen’s letter formally requesting his brother’s presence on the battlefield arrives, Lan Wangji visits the back hill for the first time since Cloud Recesses burned.

            The relief he feels upon seeing the rabbits still hopping around chokes him. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the rabbit in his lap twitches at the tears falling onto its back. Lan Wangji cries for some time, alone on his hill, his rabbits coming to gather around him. When his cheeks have dried, and the rabbits have left to find themselves dinner, he visits the burned home where gentians stubbornly reach through ash to feel the sun on their petals. He knows there are no plans to rebuild it.

            Lan Wangji kneels in front of it anyway.

*~*~*

            War is somehow both exactly what Lan Wangji expected and a phenomenon he could have never prepared for. Many days are spent in meetings that drag on, sect leaders arguing over frivolities while soldiers wait in makeshift tents for the orders that will determine their fates. Lan Wangji goes where he’s directed, fights people and puppets, plays Cleansing on the empty battlefields until his calluses give and he bloodies the strings.

            He crosses paths with many faces that had been familiar before the war. They’re familiar now, too, but only in that he recognizes the grief, the rage, the bone-deep exhaustion in them because he carries it as well. On cold nights, they sit around fires, and Luo Qingyang will joke around brittle grins about beautiful women, Jin Zixuan will respond to her barbs and little else. Sometimes Jiang Wanyin joins them, when he’s around. He usually says nothing. Zidian, curled around his hand, glints sharply in the firelight.

            The disciplines give Lan Wangji little comfort in the face of wartime hopelessness. What good are rules in such chaos? Lan Wangji’s sect family follow their rules and they still bleed the same, still die the same. Do not stand incorrectly, do not grieve in excess, do not succumb to rage. It’s not rage he succumbs to.

            Lan Wangji says nothing of this, but several months into the fighting Lan Xichen tells him, kind, exhausted, “We’ve got good people around us, Wangji. Let them bolster you.”

            This helps. Lan Wangji tries to notice his fellow soldiers, appreciate them. Luo Qingyang’s determination, Jin Zixuan’s unwavering support, Jiang Wanyin’s fierceness. Even those that can’t fight help still. Nie Huaisang organizes supplies from Qinghe, Jiang-guniang trails battles to tend to the wounded, Uncle sends frequent letters about the progress at home that keep the knowledge of what they’re fighting for in the forefront of their minds.

            It helps, but as Lan Wangji begins looking, he realizes sharply that there’s one face he never sees.

            “He’s got some secret project he’s working on,” Jiang Wanyin explains unprompted in the middle of what had previously been a pleasantly silent dinner between him, Jin Zixuan, and Lan Wangji. “He won’t tell anyone, not even a-jie, but he comes out to kill Wen soldiers every once in a while, so no one complains.”

            Jin Zixuan scoffs and opens his mouth to say something that likely won’t help endear him to Jiang-guniang, so Lan Wangji quietly cuts him off to ask, “Is Wei Ying safe?”

            Jiang Wanyin glares back at Lan Wangji. “Who knows,” he says, furious, and Lan Wangji is grateful for Jiang Wanyin for the second time in his life. Wei Ying needs more people to be concerned about him when he so obviously doesn’t worry about himself.

            The war drags on and Lan Wangji clings to his sanity the way he clings to Luo Qingyang’s stories and Jin Zixuan’s awkwardness and Lan Xichen’s ever-stocked smiles. Lan Wangji still goes where he’s told, where he’s needed. They call him Hanguang-Jun and he wonders over how anyone could think he’s the bright one when the only thing keeping him from giving into the darkness are the people he’s come to love.

            On a warm spring morning, they rescue their swords. Everyone is pleased to have their weapons returned—excepting possibly Nie Huaisang. Eager, with Bichen back in his hand, Lan Wangji volunteers to patrol the terrain the army plans to traverse the next day. Jiang Wanyin joins him, Sandu in hand, Suibian tucked into his belt.

            They come across a Wen outpost in short time. They approach it silently, but as they grow nearer, they determine that it must be empty, no movement or noise coming from within its walls. Cautious still, they enter the compound, only to find it littered with bodies. Wen soldiers, all of them, killed in hundreds of different ways. Freshly killed, too, as the stench has yet to accumulate. On guard, Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin make their way further into the compound, following the sound of—music in the air.

            They find Wen Chao’s corpse in the final room, a black-clad figure standing above it with a dizi raised. With a jolt, Lan Wangji recognizes the song as Cleansing. “Wei Ying.”

            Wei Ying stutters a note and spins around, eyes wide and tinged with red. He stares at them silently and Lan Wangji realizes, terrified, that his suspicions were correct. He’s struck silent in his fear. Jiang Wanyin is the one to break the silence. He growls, “You asshole,” hands over Suibian, hugs Wei Ying tightly. Wei Ying, dazed, hugs back, his hands full of sword and dizi, and Lan Wangji, despite whatever horrible things Wei Ying has done to himself, wishes he could hug him, too.

            When Jiang Wanyin pulls away, Wei Ying grins at him. It’s not as brittle as it was the last time Lan Wangji saw it. “Ah, I’ve missed carrying a sword,” he says, slipping his dizi into his belt. “I’m out of practice, though. Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying suddenly flicks his eyes at Lan Wangji, “will you finally agree to spar with me?”

            Lan Wangji can hear the question underneath the casual request, can feel the residual resentful energy in the air, cloying. Wei Ying has taught himself demonic cultivation to beat the Wens, to defend his home, to avenge his family. Such things will hurt him, undoubtedly, and Wei Ying has little care for himself, but—but he learned Cleansing. He’d been playing it, when they walked in. Wei Ying—he will continue on this path whether Lan Wangji joins him or not.

            Lan Wangji can hear Luo Qingyang’s words as if the Lan lectures were but yesterday, as if they were still a year younger, still children, still innocent enough to be romantic. How could I wish for anything except her smile?

            Only one answer will bring Wei Ying’s smile.

*~*~*

            Wei Ying complains, but Lan Wangji forces him to sit as he plays Cleansing on his guqin. Cleansing works fine on the user, but Wei Ying could use the extra attention. He never has enough concern for his own well-being.

            Wei Ying’s smile becomes less wide but more real the longer Lan Wangji plays. He must have exhausted himself with tonight’s events, as he falls asleep during the third or fourth rendition, but Lan Wangji plays on. He plays until his fingers bleed, until the sun has started to rise, and when he leaves for breakfast, unrested, Luo Qingyang hands him a bowl of congee and presses her shoulder into his and Lan Wangji warms with gratitude.

            With Wei Ying’s help, the last stretch of the war goes quicker. Each day is planning, arguing, bloodshed, Cleansing, Wei Ying’s smile, Luo Qingyang’s stories, Jin Zixuan’s complaining, Wei Ying’s smile, bloodshed, dying, Cleansing, Wei Ying’s smile, Wei Ying’s smile, Wei Ying’s—

            When they reach Nightless City, it isn’t a triumph. They know what awaits them beyond the gates. It’s too easy to fight their way in, too easy to reach the palace, and yet no one thinks to stop, turn around, wait. How could they, now? They will win or they will die. This is the promise they made.

            It’s quiet for a heartbeat. Two. Then the puppets rise.

             Immediately, they are surrounded. Growling, soulless beings advance from every side. Some of them wear the faces of their fallen fellow soldiers. Some wear peasant clothes. Some are blackened, encased, hardly recognizable as human. The remaining living fighters huddle together as they desperately search for a way out. Lan Wangji finds himself on the outside of the huddle, unintentionally between Luo Qingyang and Jin Zixuan.

            “This sucks,” Luo Qingyang says, strained, as she forces humor into her voice. “I never even got to kiss a girl.”

            Lan Wangji thinks of Wei Ying. “Mn.”

            “I was an idiot about Jiang-guniang,” Jin Zixuan says, raising his sword, even as it wavers.

            Lan Wangji thinks of Wei Ying. “Mn.”

            Then the puppets suddenly stop advancing and Lan Wangji looks over to see Wei Ying playing his dizi, hovering above the mass of soldiers with what seems to be Yin Iron floating along with him. Wen Ruohan emerges from his lair enraged, resentful energy pouring off him in waves, and Wei Ying—Wei Ying flies forward to meet him, and Wen Ruohan’s hand clamps around Wei Ying’s throat, and—

            “Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji’s throat scrapes raw with the words and he’s rushing forwards, but he’ll never make it, he’ll never—

            Blood blossoms in Wen Ruohan’s chest and his body collapses, giving way to Meng Yao standing behind him, but Lan Wangji has eyes for no one but Wei Ying, who’s suddenly falling, falling—and Lan Wangji makes it just in time to catch Wei Ying in his arms.

            Wei Ying shivers, his own skin pale, tainted by the resentful energy that curls around him, and Lan Wangji’s heart stops long enough to catch his breath, until he looks to Wei Ying’s face and finds him—finds him grinning, bloody, up at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

            I’ll always catch you, Wei Ying. “Mn.”

            “Really,” comes Luo Qingyang’s voice behind him, “so unfair.”

*~*~*

            Wei Ying recovers quicker than Lan Wangji had expected. When he wakes, he stills Lan Wangji’s hands on the guqin and refuses to let him play again until his fingertips heal. In the silence, Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to say. Words seem inadequate for the terror, the relief, the longing, the love that all pulse within his chest like a living thing. Do not use frivolous words. All words are frivolous in this regard. He says nothing.

            Wei Ying has no problem talking. He never has. Lan Wangji doesn’t ask, but in the hazy darkness of the dawning sun, Wei Ying tells him what happened after Lan Wangji left Lotus Pier.

            The night after Lan Wangji left, Wen Ning showed up at Lotus Pier. Despite his insistence that he came to help after hearing of the attack, Sect Leader Jiang imprisoned him. Wei Ying disobeyed direct orders to release Wen Ning and return with him to the Yiling Supervisory Office, where Wen-guniang was stationed. With her knowledge and extensive library, Wei Ying discovered two things – how best to deal with the effects of demonic cultivation and how to restore a crushed golden core.

            “I didn’t find much about it,” Wei Ying says, staring into his own lap, “but one text mentioned the possibility of removing a golden core, like a limb or an organ, and it made me think that someone could give their core to someone else.”

            Lan Wangji’s body freezes in horror. “Wei Ying—”

            Wei Ying smiles tightly. “Just listen,” he says. Terrified, Lan Wangji does.

            Wei Ying returned to Lotus Pier with his idea. He tried to tell Madam Yu a lie about Baoshan Sanren and a mountain and Madam Yu immediately saw through it. Her yelling brought Jiang Wanyin and Jiang-guniang into the room and, in front of them all, she demanded the truth. Once it was out, all three of the Jiang sect children were offering up their golden cores.

            Madam Yu refused them all.

            Wei Ying curls his hands into fists. “She wouldn’t—” He shakes his head. “I left, after that. I didn’t want to practice demonic cultivation around them, in case it backfired, so I went to Yiling. Wen Qing kept me hidden for a while. When I got better at it, I went off to fight. I didn’t want to complicate things—I know how rigid you Lans can be about this stuff,” he says with a grin and Lan Wangji refuses to give in to the truth of the statement. “So I stayed hidden.” After a moment or two of silence, he says, “So. Yeah. That’s—that’s everything.”

            Lan Wangji takes several moments to think on this information. He hadn’t expected the golden core transfer, or the Wen siblings’ involvement, but he finds himself mostly unsurprised. Wei Ying has always been destined to change the cultivation world. Demonic cultivation.

            A year ago, Lan Wangji would have reviled such a thing, but—he doesn’t know, truly, why he finds himself okay with it, now. Maybe war has changed him, has proved to him that the world will never be orderly, never follow the rules. Never fit simply on one side of right or wrong. Maybe it’s just that it’s Wei Ying. Maybe Lan Wangji loves him too much to revile the choices he made to survive, to fight, to win. Regardless of why, Lan Wangji’s only fear with demonic cultivation now is how it will affect Wei Ying’s health. But Wei Ying seems to be as safe as he can, playing Cleansing, letting others help. So Lan Wangji—he will accept this part of Wei Ying.

            The rest of the cultivation world may not see it as Lan Wangji does, though, so Wei Ying will need every support that Lan Wangji can offer. Thus decided, he raises his gaze back to meet Wei Ying’s only to find him—“Wei Ying?”

            “No, it’s—” Wei Ying shakes his head, looks away. “It’s alright, Lan Zhan, you don’t have to—I get it, if you don’t want to—stay.”

            Lan Wangji frowns. “Wei Ying. I will not leave.”

            “It’s alright,” Wei Ying says, voice shaking, “you don’t—don’t have to—”

            “Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji presses his lips, gathers his courage. “I—want to stay.”

            Wei Ying looks up. The redness of his eyes has nothing to do with resentful energy, now. Lan Wangji wants to brush away the tears but he holds his hands still. It still feels foolish to want anything more than Wei Ying’s eyes on him. He could live with that, just that.

            “You mean that?” Wei Ying asks, somehow still needs to ask.

            Lan Wangji nods. “Do not tell lies.”

            Wei Ying’s eyes squint with his smile, and Lan Wangji knows with certainty he’s said the right thing.

*~*~*

            The war ends and the post-war negotiations begin with a decadent banquet held in the Nightless City palace. It’s a horrid affair. The room is full of soldiers who want nothing more than to return home, for simple pleasures like warm food or a real bed, and yet they all must sit through this farce, with the rich food and offensive entertainment paid for with money Jin Guangshan refused to give them during the war.

            Jin Guangshan holds ceremony from Wen Ruohan’s throne, acting as if no one can tell how hard he’s vying for Chief Cultivator despite everyone in the room actively turning down his less-than-subtle overtures. Even Meng Yao—Jin Guangyao, now—cannot save face for his father when the real talk begins.

            Nie Mingjue suggests Sect Leader Jiang become Chief Cultivator before Jin Guangshan can name himself. Truly, Sect Leader Jiang is the only other valid option, with Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen being so young themselves, and while Sect Leader Jiang’s nature doesn’t lend itself especially to the role, everyone in the room can agree he gave more to the war than Jin Guangshan even attempted to. Lan Xichen supports Nie Mingjue’s suggestion and Jin Guangshan has no choice but to give his support as well.

            No doubt disappointed with this turn of events, Jin Guangshan then offers to deal with the remaining Wens while the other sects rebuild following the war. He would’ve likely been taken up on this, if not for Wen-guniang, who turns up with Wei Ying at precisely this moment. There is a quick but vehement uproar in the room, but Wei Ying silences everyone when his hand drifts towards his dizi. The room silent, he gives the floor to Wen-guniang.

            Wen-guniang addresses the room of unfriendly faces and tells the story of Wen Ruohan’s tyranny. She talks of the smaller sects he absorbed and forced to change their names, talks of his addled mind, his power, his violence. She talks of the fear he sowed in his people, in his family, how he threatened people’s loved ones to get them to do as he asked. She talks, fiercely, of how Wen Ruohan threatened her brother’s life to keep her loyal and, at the sneers she receives, says, “I do not expect forgiveness,” with her head raised high. “You may punish me however you like. But the people of Qishan are victims. I ask you all to spare them in whatever decisions you make.”

            The room, unsurprisingly, erupts immediately into chaos once again. Eavesdropping is forbidden but it’s impossible not to hear what people say—some find Wen-guniang well-spoken and believable, others claim it’s another trick. A hundred people with a hundred different opinions. If he could hear across the room, Lan Wangji is sure he’d hear something from the Jin section about Wen-guniang’s lovely ears.

            After several quiet moments of thought, Lan Xichen turns to Lan Wangji. “What do you think?”

            It’s a courtesy Lan Wangji wouldn’t have been afforded prior to the war. He gives the honor its due respect and ponders it carefully. Wen-guniang saved them from the puppets on Dafan Mountain despite having to disobey Wen Chao’s orders. She tended to Lan Wangji’s injuries despite knowing she could be punished for it. She helped Wei Ying with resentful energy and sheltered him as he learned. She came here tonight, knowing the ire the cultivation world holds for her, in order to protect her people.

            “Wen-guniang is intelligent, capable, and kind,” Lan Wangji says to his brother. If it echoes exactly the sentiments Lan Wangji has endured for a year from Luo Qingyang, well. Lan Xichen doesn’t need to know that.

            Upon discussion, Lan Xichen and Sect Leader Jiang support Wen-guniang’s right to succeed Wen Ruohan. As the last remaining highest Wen official, the title of Sect Leader Wen rightfully belongs to her, and with reparations, close observation, and the promise to destroy the Yin Iron, the Lan and Jiang sects have no problem allowing her to take over Qishan Wen.

            Nie Mingjue argues for harsher punishments, which he gets. Qishan Wen will be sectioned into four and envoys from each of the great sects will oversee the rebuilding of Qishan to ensure Wen-guniang follows the agreement. Jin Guangshan openly disdains this plan, but cannot seem to come up with another one that isn’t simply kill all remaining people with the surname Wen, so he is largely disregarded.

            Twice snubbed and growing even more frustrated—and tipsy—Jin Guangshan stands in the middle of dinner to propose to Jiang-guniang for his son. Lan Wangji mildly wishes his tea were alcoholic, if only so he could be unconscious for this entire exchange.

            Jin Zixuan flushes down his neck and everyone in the Jiang section of the room seems unsure of how to respond—save for Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin, who seem to know exactly which expletives they’d like to employ—and then Luo Qingyang elbows Jin Zixuan in the side and Jin Zixuan suddenly shoots to his feet.

            All eyes turn to him, which has him flushing even more horribly, but he doggedly bows first to his father and then to the Jiang sect and then Jiang-guniang specifically. “Jiang-guniang,” he says, “please forgive my father’s impertinence. This is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he—” Jin Zixuan winces visibly, still bowing, “—he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. Please, do not feel the need to respond.” With this, he promptly sits down and makes an abortive gesture towards the cup of alcohol on the table before him.

            Luo Qingyang and Lan Wangji’s eyes meet across the room and the disbelief in her expression matches the sentiments in Lan Wangji’s chest exactly.

            Jiang-guniang, flushing much more delicately than Jin Zixuan, stands at her own table. She bows to Jin Guangshan and then Jin Zixuan. “Thank you for your consideration, Jin-gongzi,” she says softly. “I feel I am needed in Lotus Pier during this time, but perhaps we can discuss this matter at a later date.” With that, she also sits back down, and Jin Zixuan seems vaguely faint at the words later date. Lan Wangji presses his lips to restrain his smile.

            The night ends with no further excitement and, though negotiations continue for several days following, everything is mostly resolved after that. Sect Leader Jiang becomes Chief Cultivator, Wen-guniang becomes Sect Leader Wen, the Yin Iron is destroyed in a strange ceremony during which Wei Ying takes advantage of being the only one who knows what they’re doing to annoy the entirety of the cultivation world (Lan Wangji just enjoys the chance to watch Wei Ying unencumbered for such a prolonged period of time), and just like that, all the sects prepare to return back to their homes.

            There is a final ceremony during which the sect leaders all have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another from now on. Standing in a row, Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, Jiang Fengmian, Jin Guangshan, and Wen Qing all toast to their future. Beside Lan Wangji, Luo Qingyang sighs and says, “Her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

            Lan Wangji says, “Mn,” because he supposes they do.

            In the meandering tediousness following the tea ceremony, Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan stand beside one another and enjoy a calming silence as an excuse not to talk with anyone else here. This peace is broken, however, as Lan Wangji alarmingly watches from his spot when Luo Qingyang approaches Wei Ying across the room. After a brief interaction, both she and Wei Ying disappear from view and Lan Wangji suddenly has the overwhelming urge to flee.

            Before he can do anything, Jiang-guniang approaches them, bowing to Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan in turn. “Lan-er-gongzi,” she says, smiling with her dimples and everything, “do you mind if I borrow Jin-gongzi?”

            Lan Wangji politely vacates his spot to allow Jiang-guniang to take it, ignoring Jin Zixuan’s panicked glances implying how much he would appreciate Lan Wangji doing anything but. Once resettled far enough away, Lan Wangji searches for hints of Luo Qingyang and Wei Ying, only to spot the former as she emerges from a side corridor. She’s trailed by Wei Ying, who stares somewhat dazedly into the middle distance with his mouth agape, seemingly uncomprehending of anything around him.

            Lan Wangji meets Luo Qingyang’s gaze, only growing more alarmed at the grin she gives him. She walks over to him, her grin widening with each step, and as she turns to stand beside Lan Wangji, Wei Ying’s dazed gaze settles on them.

            “You’re going to thank me for this,” Luo Qingyang says, teasing.

            Wei Ying suddenly shakes himself, his eyes focusing. He blinks once, twice, and then starts walking determinedly towards them.

            Lan Wangji, voice wavering, asks, “Luo Qingyang, what did you do?”

            Luo Qingyang, horribly, laughs. “I get to give a speech at your wedding,” she says, and walks away just as Wei Ying reaches them.

            Lan Wangji takes back every good thing he ever thought about having friends. This is horrible, Luo Qingyang is horrible, how could she—what did she—

            “Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying stares up at him, his expression somehow dazed and determined and smiling all at once. Oh, fuck him, but Lan Wangji could never wish for anything but Wei Ying’s smile.

            Lan Wangji gathers his courage. “Wei Ying.”

            “Do you know what Mianmian just told me?”

            Lan Wangji does not. “Mn.”

            Wei Ying exhales in disbelief, still smiling. “Is it true?”

            Luo Qingyang rarely lies. “Mn.”

            Wei Ying beams. “Then can I kiss you?”

            Lan Wangji blinks rapidly. They’re in public. Their families are right there. They are war veterans. But—but really there is only one answer. “Mn.”

            Luo Qingyang cheers in the distance and Jiang Wanyin curses and Lan Xichen possibly even lets out a surprised, “Wangji!” but Lan Wangji disregards all of it in favor of returning Wei Ying’s kiss wholeheartedly.