wuding | yiling.

yiling.

( He had anticipated silence, nightmarish husking, a slaughter of dust and dreams. A vast, unending emptiness of possibility.

Instead, Yiling surprised him: in the wake of the war that toppled the Yiling Patriarch and his restitution thirteen years after, the village has thrived, a convenient settlement at crossed roads. The markets lack exotic produce or sophisticated offerings, but excel in popularity. Those who must eat will have their fill. The roads accept visitors, bandits still banished by the specter of the Patriarch that is said to still manifest against wrongdoers on his grounds. Yunmeng's commerce is, if not wholly restored, then tentatively rejuvenating.

They arrive on lukewarm morning, Yiling clinging to its suffocating humidity even at the turn of seasons. Begging leave of his retinue, the acting sect leader has entrusted Sizhui and Uncle Qiren to watch over the clan — and now only carries their wares, dragging Little Apple by a soft lead. The donkey trots obediently, sparing unconvinced glances each way as if to transmit that it is an animal debased by these surroundings and prefers a hey of higher quality.

They enter the village, well ahead of Wei Ying's distant cave settlement, on foot &dmash; to vocal offers of carrot, winter melon and... of course he buys a bundle of turnips, paying twice the local going rate, and still not half of what might be charged in Jinlintai. Appeased, the old lady that descended on him withdraws, patting her belly, then her thinning basket of goods, because, ah, what a day.

Lan Wangji, trailing after his husband, is still a little aghast and confused after his ambush. )

I believe they like me here. ( Certainly, they like his silver. )

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( For a time, he only lets Wei Ying speak, content to listen to him: his meaning, his voice, its catches. Attending Wei Ying is an exercise in patience, in learning sobs and silences. Here, now, Lan Wangji's one and true love requires care, company and above all, compassion. )

Shall write to Zewu-Jun. ( Whatever the depth of his brother's seclusion, Lan Xichen would never refuse Lan Wangji his wisdom or assistance. ) There are talismans chain configurations to bolster the energy transmissions.

( And there are, he needn't say, polite and proper uses for the materials gathered in the Forbidden Library.

He continues walking on, only sparing a few cautious glances behind, where Little Apple sidles without complaint — or squeezing his arms to give Wei Ying a pulsing reminder of Lan Wangji's affection. On instinct, he leans in, in a bid to press his mouth on his lover's forehead — but withdraws with a look of scarring uncertainty, ill at ease with assuming his physical affection now is wanted. )

We may pause tomorrow, if you prefer it. Recover your strength.

[So Lan Zhan’s going to contact his brother. It will make his failure known to someone other than Lan Zhan, but that’s fine. Lan Xichen won’t spread the information around to anyone else.]

I’ll think on it tonight, too. Part of invention is trial and error, but I’d rather not go through this again if we can help it.

[Slowly, but surely, he’s starting to feel more like himself. Lan Zhan’s arms around him help and so does the gentle rocking motion of being carried. He only looks up at Lan Zhan when he leans in to… do nothing. He lets go of Lan Zhan with one of his arms so he can touch Lan Zhan’s cheek to guide his face back towards his own so they’re nose-to-nose.]

We’re okay. [He hopes so, at least.] We’re stronger than that cave when we’re together. That’s why it keeps trying to separate us. [Trying and succeeding, he doesn’t say. Lan Zhan already knows.]

( He should let go. He should let go. He should —

But then, Wei Ying's attracting him closer, their noses brush, and he feels overwhelmed by his frustrated impotence, by the gift of his lover's presence — nearly denied.

His teeth grit, mouth souring. He does not look away. )

The cave did not banish me. ( And he lets the hurt of the evening spill into his voice, lets it drench and drown. Is it unfair? Perhaps there is an edge to it that he cannot moderate, a private and unflinching understanding that his grudge sets them on a path of disaster. He looks away once more. )

I love you. But you hurt me.

Edited 2024-10-04 15:44 (UTC)

[He meets Lan Zhan’s gaze, but he doesn’t move to kiss him. He’s waiting to be kissed, but it doesn’t happen. It’s unsettling being so close to Lan Zhan but feeling like they shouldn’t or can’t kiss like they normally would. But he faces it with a bravery he hadn’t been able to show back in the Burial Mounds.]

Wait, are you saying I banished you..?

[Lan Zhan’s looking away again, so he looks down and thinks. Tries to remember the episode he’s just had even though he doesn’t like to. And then it hits him. Get out. It hadn’t been Lan Zhan telling him to go away, it had been Lan Zhan parroting his own words back at him.]

I didn’t mean for you to ‘get out.’ I was talking to the voices.

[But even though he didn’t mean to hurt Lan Zhan, he managed to do it anyway.]

I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. That was the worst thing I could have said. [He may not remember the time after the Nightless City, but he’s heard about it. He knows what he had said to Lan Zhan at that time. He should have known better.]

Can I make it right?

( The... voices. Possible, even probable. Yet he finds himself strangely unaffected by the explanation, unwilling to elevate it to an excuse. No matter the circumstances, to speak those words there — )

...no. ( An ugly thing, a worse refusal. There are things that cannot be taken back. But he peels himself away from his rancor long enough to drop his mouth over Wei Ying's forehead. ) But I am grateful you would wish to.

( That whatever remains between them on this day hasn't been ruptured past the point of no return. He is making good advance toward the first inn that might hopefully retain at least one quarter for impromptu strangers, before he speaks again: )

I do not wish you to cry again.

[He nods his head slowly, accepting that there’s nothing Lan Zhan wishes from him and that there’s nothing he could possibly offer to make things right. He feels hollow. To think that he’d utter those words in the worst possible place to do so. It’s unforgivable, so of course Lan Zhan would hurt.

Maybe he should get down and walk at Lan Zhan’s side or burden Little Apple with his weight instead. But Lan Zhan still kisses his forehead and holds him close to his chest.

They’re not good, but they can get back to good.]

Well, I don’t want to cry again, either. [He keeps his voice lighter than he feels because he doesn’t want to burden his husband with anymore unpleasantness.] But I’m more concerned about you right now. I promise I won’t cry or anything if you want to yell at me. I think I got it out of my system back there at the Burial Mounds.

[They’re attracting an audience now as strangers keep glancing their way. He bristles about it. It’s like they’ve never seen a grown man being carried before!]

When have I wished to scream at you?

( All of outbursts have been eruptive, frustration ill contained. Once upon a time, he might have been the man who did not value his companion enough to moderate himself. Now, he has learned to muzzle himself, to keep his fury restrained.

There is a point, wading through the crowds, when it strikes him that they might be inconvenient — in his arms, Wei Ying is a compact plank that still poses danger to the bustling pace of fumbling men and women, lost between their domestic duties. With a sigh, Lan Wangji draws his husband closer into himself, catching Little Apple's reins in one hand to avoid accusations of his animal run rampant.

The inn is — unflattering, hardly hospitable, bare. Seemingly inconvenienced by the prospect of freshly arrived, unvetted travellers. Some things, Lan Wangji supposes, never change, no matter the recent prosperity of the village. They secure a room at many times the going rate, and feed and shelter for Little Apple, apprehended by the stable hand. There is even a promise of a light dinner, though Lan Wangji has the inspiration to instead request dishes brought over from a nearby restaurant. They can be trusted, he supposes, to bring in a tub and warm bathing water.

Throughout, he holds on to his husband as if to a trophy, content not to relinquish him until they've arrived inside their small, if clean quarter, and he can release Wei Ying onto the tautly spread bed. )

Why did you fear the blood pool so?

I don’t know, sometimes it just helps to get things off your chest. [Had he been encouraging Lan Zhan to take his frustrations out on him to help Lan Zhan or to help himself feel less guilty about it. It’s the latter, he supposes, because Lan Zhan’s right. He doesn’t tend to resort to yelling in most instances of frustration. Gritted teeth and cold snapping, sometimes, but not yelling.

He frowns at people when they give them ugly looks, but he behaves himself despite feeling tempted to call them out with yelling of his own. He and Lan Zhan huddle close as his husband navigates the town and negotiates their price. They’re clearly being ripped off, but Lan Zhan is terribly generous with his funds.]

I wouldn’t say I feared it. [Back on his feet, he goes to the bed to test the mattress with one hand. Firm from heavy use, though he’s used to a firmer mattress these days.] I just… when I saw the way you looked at it, I felt possessive over you. I’ve only ever seen you look at me like that. I didn’t think I was the jealous sort, but I think that’s because you usually don’t give me a reason to feel that way because you only have eyes for me.

I think I know what you saw in there. [He can’t be one hundred percent sure without Lan Zhan confirming it, but it seems fairly obvious.

He keeps his back turned when he continues speaking, looking down at the stained bedclothes. Hopefully they’ve been washed since the last guest.] I was worried you’d see what you really wanted and that I wouldn’t be good enough anymore.

( Wei Ying knows. Of course he does. It strikes Lan Wangji that he had never considered the possibility of his husband questioning the vision. In truth, there can only ever be a single person who elicits so much of his attention, his interest. They both know so.

As Wei Ying sits down, he walks the room, quietly inspecting each corner for atypical magical signatures, before inserting their protection wards and adding one to dispel nightmares, to the best of its modest ability. They never quite seem to capture the worst of Wei Ying's torments, but might perhaps take the edge off his agony. So he hopes, low crackling in the air pronouncing his deed done.

Then, finally, he drifts towards his lover, dripping down to kneel before him, hands obediently settling on the thin, bone-jutting peaks of Wei Ying's hips. Holding him. Holding on to him. )

Would I prefer you in your body gone? Is that your question? Think, whether you wish your answer.

[After a few moments when his words don’t get an immediate answer, he hazards a glance at his husband and ends up watching him set up the wards he’d usually be in charge of. He trusts in Lan Zhan’s abilities enough to not nitpick anything, feeling grateful instead that he can sit down. He’s exhausted, but not to the point of needing to sleep right away.

He watches all the way until he’s approached and held onto. He looks Lan Zhan in the eyes and doesn’t try to force himself to be light and airy.]

I already assumed to know what your answer would be.

[His smile edges into sadness. Resignation.]

I was ten times more attractive back then, so it’s only natural to prefer that body over this one. But this one’s all I’ve got, so it’s not like your preference would change anything. Even if we could find all the pieces of my first body, I’d be more like a fierce corpse with my consciousness intact than a living human.

[It’s so much easier to think things through logically when they’re safe in town. If he’d been in the right state of mind back there, he would have realized that even if Lan Zhan would prefer his old body, it wouldn’t change anything.]

( Ten times more attractive. The smile that erupts on his face pulls his mouth taut, even. His is wild, if sedate laughter, wickedly fond when he pushes up abruptly to press his mouth to Wei Ying, before descending to kneel again. What a devil of a man, a beast of a husband. )

Vain. ( Of all of the Yiling Patriarch's alleged sins, none of his detractors would have guessed this one would be foremost. Only Lan Wangji can confirm it — Lan Wangji who knows him.

Speaking again, he mounts his hand to chase hairs away from Wei Ying's face, thumbs running the depth of his dark circles. )

I would have preferred you in that flesh. The visage of my first love. A man I would wish to save, once and forever. ( A pause, unerring. ) I worship this body, also. A second love. The flesh in which Wei Ying returned my affection.

[Pleasantly surprised by Lan Zhan’s mirth, he cracks more of a genuine smile back at him. The kiss is good, too, as all kisses from Lan Zhan are good, but it’s the laughter that breaks the curse that’s been plaguing him since they first went into that cave.

He tilts his face into Lan Zhan’s hand, kissing his palm. This is all the reassurance he needs, but his husband is generous with more than just his money and speaks his praises.]

I wish I could have given you love in that body. [So many tales about his lecherous ways, yet he died a virgin.] But a first kiss is better than nothing.

[He lifts his hands and cups Lan Zhan’s face between them.] All I can give you is this body, and I’m glad I have it for you. If I figure out a way of getting the other one back, I’ll let you know. I’m pretty sure it’s not possible, so don’t get your hopes up.

( All I can give you. As if Wei Ying's company is not the ultimate gift, as if Lan Wangji were shortchanged. He means to laugh, to discourage his husband's self-deprecation — but this does not feel the hour for humour easily read as cruelty.

Instead, obediently he melts into Wei Ying's touch, leaning in only to claim another fleeting kiss, less amorous than exploring and reassuring. He is here. They are well. A world spreads tired and dark outside of the safe confines of this room and their marriage. )

I would sooner you find a way to grow a womb. ( And to think they thought of Lan Wangji as lacking in jests. ) Wei Ying. Your body pleases me. I do not settle for it. I could not — physically. Falsify my enthusiasm.

[It feels good to see Lan Zhan relax under his touch after the toils of the day. Almost as much as he likes when he’s kissed. More reassurances. He leans forward and presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead and scoots closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to Lan Zhan.]

I’d bear you a dozen children if I had a womb. [Smiling, he presses their foreheads together so they’re close enough to breathe each other in. It’s comforting.]

You’re right, Lan Zhan. I wasn’t thinking rationally when we were in there. I’m sorry for doubting you, Lan Zhan. [Because that’s what it all amounts to, isn’t it? If he hadn’t had his doubts, he wouldn’t have been affected.] It won’t happen again. I don’t have anymore doubts.

No need for apologies or thanks between us.

( The old rule, a by-gone superstition, wholly juvenile. Mere manners will not spell the signs of another parting. But he clings to the intimacy that the arrangement promises, clings to Wei Ying before them, clings to the truths between them. )

Wei Ying. You accepted a man, despite years of flirtation with women alone.

( At least, overt steps. In retrospect, there is perhaps something to be said of the ease with which Wei Ying gave chase to the second Jade of Lan, a decidedly male possibility. )

You sheathe me in your body each night, for all you once doubted such surrender. ( An all too enthusiastic yielding, once all is said and done. )

What is my enjoyment of a beautiful body, compared to your concessions?

[He keeps touching Lan Zhan’s face and neck, smiling more as Lan Zhan keeps speaking. He doesn't think of any of those things as concessions, but he can see where Lan Zhan is coming from. He had always known Lan Zhan to be handsome, but he’d never entertained the thought of bedding him until after his resurrection.]

Don’t be silly, Lan Zhan. You know how I am. I just do what feels natural to me and that’s loving you. [He tilts his head up kisses Lan Zhan’s forehead, then his nose, then he brushes his lips over Lan Zhan’s.]

I love you. I think I always have in some ways; I just wasn’t ready to entertain the thought of being with a guy back then. I wasn’t really thinking about sleeping with any of the girls I flirted with, either. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to be with like this.

[He licks his lips before kissing Lan Zhan again and again, sprinkling elated affection onto his husband’s mouth. It feels good to be half of a soul greeting its other half.]

( They fall too readily into their habit, drinking each other's soft inhalations, mouth chasing fragments of warmth. Driven by momentum, Lan Wangji lifts himself on his knees to dip in, almost sat in a crouch, chasing Wei Ying's mouth with a litany of silent, slow-pressed kisses.

He loves this man. Loves him tirelessly, hopelessly, serenely. His hands crowd Wei Ying's, affixing them on the battered bed spread, holding his husband near, dear, tight. At long last, he pulls away, the movement a discordant gesture against a background of oceanic silence. )

Enough, beloved. They will bring water. ( As if that has ever truly stayed them in their lust. ) Earlier, you wept. I am frazzled. Let us reconvene.

[It’s too easy to fall into passion when they kiss and his cheeks are flushed by the time Lan Zhan pulls away. He chases after him for a moment, then lets out a long, steady exhale. He wants more, as he always does when they get like this, but he merely nods his acknowledgement. Later. They can seek satisfaction in each other later. Lan Zhan should probably meditate and he really should do the same as much as he doesn’t enjoy the act of meditation.]

Yeah, right. Right. Later.

[Even as he says it, he leans in and captures Lan Zhan’s mouth again in a slow, thorough kiss. For once, he behaves and pulls away first with another shaky sigh.]

Okay, now we can wait until later.

[This feels different from their usual coming together after a heated argument. He doesn’t feel as frantic. It’s more like coming home where he knows it will be safe and he’ll be comforted. He finds that he’s okay. He doesn’t need to seek the reassurance of his husband’s flesh so much as his presence at his side.]

Hold me in the water before we wash? I don’t want to be away from you right now.

You need to be held.

( He translates, mouth still raw and yearning from the depth of his husband's kiss, but politely withholding himself to allow Wei Ying the distance they both require. A fool's game, steward them toward moderation, when Lan Wangji himself still aches for a completion that they would be unwise to accelerate.

Within heartbeats, he hears the knocking — first timid, then feverish, as if the attendant fears to interrupt the newest guests, then to dally in their presence. Sheer habit, for all Wei Ying too is clothed now, Lan Wangji to crack their door open and permit two flushing servers to bring in a large copper tub, then buckets of heated water. Behind them, a maid with the ordered dishes, firmly packaged.

Lan Wangji welcomes them all, liberal with coin for their trouble, dictating where their items must be descended before the attendants withdraw. He lingers only long enough to test they have received all that was expected, then to place heating talismans to protect the temperature of their water and meal, until both come into use. )

Truly, they receive their Patriarch well.

[Is it a need? He supposes so. Lan Zhan had carried him the entire way to town, but it hadn’t felt like he was being held. Things had still been awkward between them at that point and while the rocking motion of walking had eased some of his tension, it hadn’t been the same as being held by his husband.]

I just want to be close and I like feeling your arms around me.

[He doesn’t mind the interruption. It’s good timing. He might have been more annoyed to stop kissing Lan Zhan if it had been because of the servants’ timing. He greets each of the servants who enter the room and at least one of them relaxes a little because of it. When they finish up and leave, he gets to his feet and stretches his arms over his head.]

What first, dinner or the bath? I’m not too hungry, but I wasn’t the one carrying my husband all the way back. [He steps over close to Lan Zhan and takes a look at the packaged meal. He can’t recall what Lan Zhan requested, but he’s sure it’ll taste fine.]

I’d agree with you if anyone knew it was me. Then again, news of my resurrection’s probably made it back here at least as rumors. I wonder if it’s the same with our marriage. If so, maybe they do know who I am.

Bath. We carry too much of the cave's sickness.

( Its filth, perhaps, in lesser parts than its resentment. Ablutions can never wholly eliminate spiritual grudges, but there is a ritual benefit to the procedure, a righting of the countless wrongs that a body and soul suffer through exposure to such evil. Their dinner, saluted with a cautious nod, will keep.

The first step: he pours in most of the buckets of water into their bathtub, steam rising and coiling with satisfying resilience. A talisman follows, to retain the bathing waters warm.

After, he stops as if to begin downing his own silks — before turning instead to step before Wei Ying, and kneeling down to come at level and commence unlacing his husband's boots and trousers. No better than a concubine or a lowly servant, is Hanguang-Jun on this night. There is no shame in it. )

My husband is as spoiled as he is pretty.

Yeah, we’ll have to use fresh robes tomorrow. These ones reek of the dead. [Which will just make things harder for them around town. If they’d stayed overnight in the cave — a bad idea to suggest — they would probably be sleeping in these robes. To think that had been their plan mere shi before.

He starts to loosen the sash around his waist, pausing when Lan Zhan moves to undress him. He’d rather have Lan Zhan take his robe off, so he leaves the belt-loosened ensemble to him.]

You like to spoil me. [He starts by loosening the simple knot that binds the two sides of his husband’s forehead ribbon, letting it fall across Lan Zhan’s shoulders.] You do such a good job of it, too.

[Next, he pulls the pin from Lan Zhan’s hair, then he removes the headdress after. It doesn’t take much effort to work the topknot out of Lan Zhan’s hair.]

I might be pretty, but you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met. [Factoring in seeing Lan Zhan smile so often has propelled him above even Lan Xichen in the looks department. He doesn’t make the rules.] Beautiful too, in a masculine sort of way.

( This is ever his favorite moment, when Wei Ying unbinds the signatures of Hanguang-Jun to gently reveal him. He leans into his lover's hands, sweetly cooperative as if a kitten, tipping his head into questing fingers whenever they peel away pressure from his temples. He breathes. Is Lan Wangji, separate and tolerable, a creature distant from the demands of his station.

Finally, he remembers to return the favor and resume his own unveiling of his husband's body, stripping away boots and belts and allowing the silks of Wei Ying's robes to dangle like forgotten skins. )

Partisan. You alone think so. ( And perhaps their Lan Liang, who has increasingly warmed to his father's expressions, now he has learned to thaw them through the start of smiles. )

You know who attracts glances on the road. ( And it is not Lan Wangji. )

Edited 2024-10-06 12:18 (UTC)

[He takes some time to just touch Lan Zhan’s face and hair before he moves southward to make fast work of the complicated knot of his husband’s belt. He’s done this so many times that it’s second nature to him.]

My opinion is the only one that matters. [He shows uncharacteristic patience as he undresses Lan Zhan layer by layer instead of pulling them off in batches. He’s not rushing to sleep with him which might be the main motivator on a normal evening. There’s something sweet about taking his time like this.

He moves how Lan Zhan needs him to strip off his robes. He’s only wearing a couple layers. It’s no wonder he felt cold outside that cave!] They’re only looking at me because they’re trying to decide if I’m a man or a woman.

[It doesn’t take long until he’s pushing the last of Lan Zhan’s layers off his shoulders. He takes a step closer and wraps his arms around his husband’s waist for an intimate hug.]

You are a man.

( He whispers it as his arms come around Wei Ying, entrapping him close and pulling him in, accepting his presence. There is no need to hasten, not with an evening of lethargy awaiting them. He only considers to accommodate his husband's natural chills, but even that can wait, while he nuzzles Wei Ying's cheek. )

A handsome, brilliant, just, whimsical man. My man.

( Belatedly claimed but rightfully earned, Lan Wangji's one and only. He noses at Wei Ying, careful not to discourage or overstimulate him, but wishing this much of their arrangement well known: Wei Ying is not inferior to him.

There is no question, despite the frequency of their jests over his spouse's potential breeding, that Lan Wangji has married a man and enjoys him for these merits. Perhaps if Wei Ying were different — resurrected as a woman — Lan Wangji might have prevailed to stifle his natural inclinations and opened himself to bedding his spouse, after trial and error. But it would have been an experiment in patience, and he knows far too well they were fortunate in how their situation played out. )

My husband.

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