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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[He laughs when Lan Zhan picks him up, kissing the top of his head as he reaches the zenith of the lift. He plants another kiss on his nose before dipping both feet into the water.] Perfect! [Meaning it’s warm enough to pinken the skin but not so warm it’s uncomfortable.]

Want to kiss some more? [He asks as he slips into the tub and finds his place against the inner wall with his legs folded against himself so Lan Zhan can get comfortable. It only makes sense for Lan Zhan to take his position first since Wei Wuxian will inevitably end up in his lap as he does most nights they have their bath.]

We can wait to do other stuff until later if you want. I just want to tell you how much I love you without using words.

[He holds his arms out like he’s waiting for Lan Zhan to climb in and embrace him immediately. Lan Zhan hadn’t been exaggerating how spoiled he is.]

You are never tempered when we kiss.

( He warns, but eases into the waters all the same, careful not to unbalance Wei Ying in his transition. The tub is blessedly copper this time, likely invulnerable to their transgressions, but it also offers little give by way of Lan Wangji assuming his seat in tight confines. Modern bathing arrangements are ill equipped to accommodate a scion of Gusu Lan, it would appear.

Huffing, he turns around, back to the bathtub and legs spread idly wide each side of the rim, to welcome the weight of his husband no matter how Wei Ying chooses to position himself. )

You will not be satisfied, then begrudge me. ( He has seen this same request play out dozens of time, and he only has himself to blame for his tendency to indulge Wei Ying in perpetuity. )

That’s because you’re such a good kisser. So really, it’s your fault we always end up needing more whenever we kiss.

[He grins and moves closer, careful not to pinch his husband’s skin between his knees and the bottom of the tub. He decides he wants to face his husband in case he decides ‘yes’ on more kissing, so he sits sideways across his thighs.]

You’re right, Lan Zhan. If you kiss me the way you usually do, I’ll be clay in your hands, but can you really blame me? I mean, look at you.

[He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and pulls himself close enough to kiss where his jaw meets his throat.] See Lan Zhan? I can be good. If I were trying to seduce you, I would have straddled your lap instead.

But, if we’re not going to kiss, will you still hold me tight? Just for a little while before we start to wash up.

You are good, so very good.

( But this is no mere kissing, he wishes to say, but settles instead to all but purr his approval when Wei Ying latches onto his neck, painfully assured of his victory. Of course Lan Wangji will not discourage or push him away; shamelessly, he melts into the affection, drawing Wei Ying farther in with an arm snaking at his husband's back.

Helpfully, the pleasantly heated waters are already playing their part to ease them, the tension of the day beginning to dissipate, as Lan Wangji's muscle sing away their sorrows. He had grossly underestimated the toll that exposure to so much resentment can take upon the flesh, burdening it down. His very bones feel drained of strength.

Drunk on Wei Ying's affection, he retaliates with soft kissing to the narrow stretch of his lover's fragile shoulders, the column of his throat. Gently, he bites in. )

Shall I worship you when we bed tonight? ( He has enough awareness, at least, to know their bedding is an inevitability neither of them is particularly opposed to. )

[He beams as brightly as the sun when Lan Zhan calls him good. It’s not a compliment he hears often and it’s nice to have his efforts recognized. Especially when he intends to behave himself, even though they both know he’s bad at actually following through when it comes to restraining himself when he wants something.

He giggles a little when Lan Zhan goes for his throat. It tickles pleasantly and he’s torn between protecting his throat and offering up more of it. He goes with the latter, tilting his head and pulling his hair out of the way in invitation.]

You’re already worshiping me. [And he revels in the beginnings of it, feeling desired and loved in the way only Lan Zhan can make him.] But you can do it more, later. I don’t mind.

[He holds onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder with one arm and touches Lan Zhan’s cheek with the other, guiding him to pull back.] If you keep going like that, kissing and biting me, then I’ll have a harder time being good for you. [He kisses Lan Zhan’s mouth, again, a third time, then he breaks the kiss and presses his nose to his husband’s throat instead.]

Edited 2024-10-06 23:16 (UTC)

( This is too much, too soon. Already, he feels the young stirrings of his interest, accelerated with the recent compulsion that all parents have to see their passions through in as short a time as possible and fit their needs in between the screams of their children.

Hungrily, he answers each of Wei Ying's kisses, before capitulating and drawing his head back over the rim of the bathtub, pointedly looking away from his husband's gaze and eyeing the downtrodden, cracked ceiling instead. He must cool himself, must tire out the start of his ardor. Must meditate, if need be.

Throughout, his hand limply strokes out Wei Ying's spine and shoulders, careful to retain connection with his husband. )

Let us speak of different matters. Anything. Anything my husband wishes. ( A pause. ) The dreams of his farm.

[He’s disappointed when Lan Zhan pulls away, but he reminds himself that they’re not trying to sleep with each other. Just to enjoy affections without moving it towards sex. That will happen later when they lay down for bed and he tells himself that he can wait for as long as he needs to. He’ll be good.

He settles again, resting his head on Lan Zhan’s chest and letting trickles of water fall from his raised palm. He plays with the water for a few moments, then plays with Lan Zhan’s hair.]

Dreams of my farm? [It takes him a little time to realize what Lan Zhan’s talking about.] Oh, the farm that we don’t have yet. I guess I spent a lot of time living that sort of life when I lived here so it just feels like something we can do together someday when you’re not leading a clan. [He lays his hand across his own stomach, patting a little rhythm there.]

This body isn’t made for spiritual endurance. I figure it might be something we can do if we get a chance to retire from cultivation. We could grow all sorts of things! Like potatoes and leafy greens for you. Maybe we could build a lotus pond, too. Little Apple could protect the goats and chickens while I toil the fields. I’d bring you the best of what we grow and go to the market to sell the excess. [He laughs a little bit, then shakes his head.] It’s all just a silly dream. We’re not made for a quiet life.

( He listens, hands marauding to scry circles over his husband's belly and as he murmurs and thinks of everything Wei Ying whispers, everything their life could become. A farm, then. Would it be so impossible? )

My pretty wife will toil the field?

( Forgive him his amusement, his incredulity. The impossible light contentment at merely having the option to contemplate this prospect. Of course Mo Xuanyu's body is ill built for such toil, in its current form, but Wei Ying could always dedicate himself to bulking his flesh and becoming a beast of the grounds. )

Then head on to the market. ( He speaks so very dreamily, as if imagining each of Wei Ying's steps. ) Perhaps chatter with fishwives along the way. Receive orange peels from children. ( So often a likelier gift than the fruit whole, given the poverty of most villagers. )

Return to me with stories after. An idyllic life.

Sure, why not? It’ll give me something to do between tending to the children. [Then again, he didn’t help out too much with the farming. It had mostly been the Wen remnants who handled that sort of stuff.] You can help too, if you want. You’re good with animals. You could make sure the goats are milked and the eggs are collected.

[He touches Lan Zhan’s shoulder, pushing the wet hair clinging to it over the side so he can draw little designs on his husband’s chest with his fingers.]

Do you think it sounds nice? [It works out in the idealized version in his mind’s eye, but real life is never so easy. They’ll probably rely on their children or the servants to tend to the fields other than when the mood takes him. It’s something he never remembers to factor in.]

It’ll give me a way to provide for our family. When I’m not working out in the field, I’ll teach our kids about cultivation. We could take day trips to Caiyi to shop or Cloud Recesses to visit their uncle and great uncle.

...I would like it so.

( He whispers, and he finds himself wistfully yearning for a life where this might be their day-to-day. When it might, in truth, satisfy them. Of course they cannot hope to be so easily contented, two cultivators accustomed to the thrills of a battlefield life. Still.

With a prolonged exhalation, he dips his head back to crown over Wei Ying's, kissing the top of his temples, then — at a stilted angle — his cheekbones. This will never be his peaceful existence, but it may be his relationship with his husband, still. )

Time beside you. Our children could have that.

( A pretty, blessed life. Maddeningly, impossibly tame. More than Lan Wangji may ever have hoped to earn in a hundred lifetimes, after a thousand feats of virtue. )

But you would bore, readily.

Yeah, I like it too.

[He likes the thought of it, anyway. Of spending his days with his family, knowing they’re safe in his care. Of the normal hustle and bustle of going to the markets to verbally spar with anyone who comes to purchase their goods. He could tinker, too. Make charms for all sorts of things and sell his inventions in the same breath.

But Lan Zhan’s right. It would be a boring existence compared to the lives he’s lived so far.]

Sometimes boring’s not so bad. [He smiles to himself, remembering all the times he’s called Lan Zhan boring. He kisses his husband’s shoulder for good measure.] But I’m easy to satisfy. As long as I have you and the kids, that’s what matters the most.

[He looks at Lan Zhan thoughtfully.] If you could do anything with your life once we retire from politics, what would you want to do? It can be as silly or as serious as you want it to be, but you can’t just say whatever I want is fine.

Whatever Wei Ying wants is fine.

( He murmurs it with amusement, but keeps his interest all the same robustly affixed on Wei Ying's face, to prevent any misunderstandings that his moment of humour shields indifference to his husband's request. In truth, he must consider it — must balance his desires, stripped away from Wei Ying's. At times, they are too readily combined.

He hesitates, then, drawing water up between cupped hands and shed it on Wei Ying's back, in warning that his hair will likely follow — )

To roam. To help. I feel — ...a restlessness. ( How strange, to think of fussy Lan Wangji as the less anchored creature. )

At times, I cannot breathe for it.

[He laughs and splashes water towards Lan Zhan’s chest and face, but he manages to splash himself too because they’re sitting so close together.] But what if I want to do what you want? We’ll just go in circles and do nothing.

[He gets what Lan Zhan’s doing and he bends to the side, holding onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder as support to wet his hair for him.]

We could be wandering cultivation partners like we were when we were first wedded. As long as the kids are grown up first, that sounds good, too. [He doesn’t think anything will happen to leave their kids as orphans, but it’s always a possibility in cultivation. He mostly thinks they’ll make it difficult to go on night hunts. Either they’d leave them in someone else’s care or they’ll have a hard time protecting them.]

I like your version of our future, Lan Zhan. There are a lot of people out there who don’t have the backing of large sects to do their night hunting for them.

[He kisses his husband’s cheek, then nudges his nose against his neck.] Your destiny isn’t in politics. This is just temporary. We’ll be out cultivating for the little people before you know it.

Perhaps.

( But he offers it agreeably, nodding to slip his mouth over Wei Ying's cheek as his husband turns, their noses colliding. Sweet trickles of friction, no more than teasing. He sighs along. )

You would wish a quieter life. One of settling. It is right that you enjoy it.

( That Wei Ying, who has been given so little to call plainly his own and so few causes for celebration, should at least be awarded this much solace. Is this not part of matrimony, also? To compromise?

Thirteen years dead, Wei Ying has earned at least thirteen years of concessions and indulgence. )

I shall not mind.

A quiet life, huh?

[It strikes him to realize that a quiet life is something he’s seeking. Wei Wuxian, who is known to laugh in the face of danger, wants to plant himself in one place where he feels safe and sound. In Gusu of all places! No one outside the ones who know him best would believe it.

He grins when their noses touch, leaning forward to steal a quick, chaste kiss.]

If we settle down too soon, I’ll be bored and you’ll be restless. [Like they are when they’re back home.] I want to walk with you and cultivate for orange peels, but I want a home where we can return to when we want to rest, too.

We’ll have to wait until A-Liang’s old enough to take care of himself when we’re away before we can be wandering cultivators. It’s not like it would be safe on the road for him unless we bring the nursemaid with us. [Which would be decidedly unromantic, but he isn’t completely opposed to the idea.]

Edited 2024-10-09 23:00 (UTC)

Loquat peels.

( He corrects, but drags Wei Ying closer, readily satisfied when his husband retaliates and their noses collide sweetly. He feels tempted — and enacts his impulse — to bite his lover's nose, a monster well and true.

After, pulling only lightly away to loom dangerously: )

Your parents prevailed to raise you on the road. ( Surely, it would not be such a hardship for a young Liang. Perhaps easier on a babe than a proper child, distressed for the lack of structure. But then, even he appears to reconsider: )

Liang, and our other children. A simple wait, once Wei Ying achieves immortality. ( For he will, assuredly. )

[He pulls back when Lan Zhan nips his nose, crinkling it up as his eyes start to water. It doesn’t hurt much, but that area’s sensitive!] Lan Zhan! [His voice is a whine, but he’s still smiling.]

A-Yuan spent a lot of time in the Burial Mounds, too. Maybe I’m not giving them credit for their resilience. [He doesn’t want to put his kids in harm’s way before they’re learned enough to face the darkness at their side. Trying to cultivate with a toddler in one arm would put him at a disadvantage, but there’s nothing around that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be able to face with minimal back up. He’d spent years cultivating on his own, hadn’t he?]

Until I can figure out a way to reach immortality without mixing in some demonic cultivation, you mean. [He refuses to make himself immortal if he can’t do the same for Lan Zhan. Maybe he’ll change his mind in a couple decades — unless he succeeds in his endeavors. For now, he just can’t imagine living a full life without Lan Zhan in it.] I’ll keep working on it until I can figure it out.

[He nudges his way to kissing the side of Lan Zhan’s mouth.] I already miss A-Liang. Don’t get me wrong, I like having you all to myself, but this is the longest time he hasn’t had either of us.

Wei Yiiiiiing.

( He whines back in a rare, studied pretension. It's seldom that he allows himself these whims, but he has earned the opportunity, careful to nudge at Wei Ying's cheek and direct him to face the brunt of the bathtub, as Lan Wangji finally commences bathing him. First, the little bowl of water, filled. Then, he begins to pour it across the top of Wei Ying's pretty head, the serpentine stretch of his tresses. Again and again and again.

Perhaps they're equal in this: Wei Ying loathes sharing his vulnerability, for fear of inconveniencing. Lan Wangji, too, is never at ease when he laughs. Only together do they dare show their true colours. )

He is a stronger child than you anticipate. ( For all it's never spoken of, toddlers possess their own inner strength, an admirable flexibility and endurance. )

In truth, you will pine for him longer than he yearns for us. ( The ingratitude of children, the gutting woe of a parent. )

[He closes his eyes and stills when Lan Zhan starts to wash him. He’s at ease with this, having grown spoiled for having Lan Zhan do the majority of the work on his hygiene. It feels good being taken care of in the little ways like this even if he tends to shy away from the bigger issues that weigh on him. Slowly, he’s starting to open up to the idea of sharing those things but it doesn’t come naturally to him.]

Yeah, I know. I want to keep him safe from all of life’s harms, but that doesn’t help him. He’ll have scraped knees and broken bones before too long. Hopefully he doesn’t take after me too much or he’ll be getting himself into dangerous situations every day.

[It’s probably because of how he was as a kid that he worries over his own kids so much. Unlike Lan Zhan, this is his first time being an actual father, so it’s only natural that he’s more prone to worry.]

I’ve seen it with Sizhui. He’s a good kid, but I can tell when he thinks we’re being overbearing. You did such a good job with him, Lan Zhan. He’s confident, kind, empathetic, and he won’t back down if we disagree with him when he thinks it’s important. [Like with his relationship with Jin Ling.]

( Over... bearing? His mouth lingers agape, a silent question he had never thought to articulate that Wei Ying's commentary brings into front and center: were they ever too much for Sizhui? Too enthusiastic, too persistent?

As ever when he is emotionally rattled but not entirely paralysed, he stays in a state of frozen incredulity, retaliating against the closest person to him: inevitably, and he pinches the swell of a precious buttock, Wei Ying.

Confident, kind, empathetic. Yes, that is their son. )

Sizhui takes after my likeness. ( White-bearing, neatly dressed, carefully presented. ) Perhaps Liang will emulate his mother.

[He yelps when he’s pinched, then pouts at Lan Zhan.] Okay, okay, when I’m overbearing. I do make it a habit to be more affectionate when the other juniors are around, but he’s so cute when he blushes and hides his face! You should see him, Lan Zhan!

[He rubs at the sore spot on his bottom, but he doesn’t move off of Lan Zhan’s lap for now. Things are starting to feel more normal between them and he wants to stay close.]

He’ll have to dress like you if we send him to Cloud Recesses for cultivation training. I bet he’d look pretty cute in black and red. Maybe I’ll buy him some black robes next time I’m at the market. Your uncle will gripe about it, but he gripes about everything that isn’t perfectly within his narrow view of what’s proper.

[He passes the cleansing oils to Lan Zhan expectantly. Maybe he should wash Lan Zhan, too. He is never as thorough as his husband with things like this, but Lan Zhan never complains about it, so he must be doing an okay job of it.]

( Of course, the pretty young master must have his needs met, and Lan Wangji, hand tremulous and mean, has dallied. Whispering his apologies, he accepts the oils presented, spreading a trickle of thickened sandalwood oils — his favoured scent, inevitably — between his fingertips.

Then follows the massage, first Wei Ying's temples, then his nape and the arc of his crown, before dousing each strand. Every now and then, he crimps the tresses in his hand, pulling them close to Wei Ying's scalp, then ruthlessly scrubbing them, as if he is a laundering woman. )

Black, too stark on a child. ( Too somber, too grown. For once, he presumes to disagree with his husband. ) Perhaps your reds. Greens?

[He closes his eyes when Lan Zhan starts cleansing his hair, smiling as he enjoys the massage on his scalp. He doesn’t mind the smell of sandalwood oil at all, since it’s the smell he associates with Lan Zhan. Smelling like his husband is a comfort.]

That’s why it would be cute. [He grins a little, thinking of their son as a mini version of himself.] We don’t have to make him wear black for long. Just long enough to make a memory of it. But I guess that would be a waste of money, huh? [He sighs, still smiling through it.] But I guess dressing him in reds would be cute, too. He’ll be honoring his brother’s heritage in red and light grey.

[Not that most people outside their immediate family know about Sizhui’s heritage. He’s not actually sure if anyone knows outside of him and Lan Zhan, but he suspects that Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen assume as much even if they haven’t been told directly.]

Besides, white on a kid is depressing, but we dress him in Lan colors regularly. A splash of red will be good for him.

You begrudge our colours, beloved?

( He teases, fingers deepening their hold on Wei Ying's hair, leisurely scratching and massaging the scalp. He owes Wei Ying a great deal of indulgence, after inducing doubt in his mind, body and heart. To think he might have been compared with himself and found wanting. To think, too, that Lan Wangji might have created this sense of desperate insufficiency in him.

Determined to make amends, he leans in just enough to scratch Wei Ying's neck with his teeth and litter down choice bruises. After, with careful interest, he licks, nips and suckles down — impossibly fond, forever charmed. )

You must be punished for your disloyalty as a spouse of Cloud Recesses. ( Truly, Uncle would never abide such blasphemy against the clan colours. ) It is for your welfare.

They’re funeral colors. You’re just used to it because that’s what you grew up with.

[He angles his head towards the touch and tips it down to invite Lan Zhan’s teeth and lips. If they’re not careful, they’ll end up in the same boat as they were at the start of their bath. He wants to be with his husband in their marital ways, but he doesn’t want to push Lan Zhan before he’s ready. Then again, this is Lan Zhan giving the affection. He hums a hushed moan at the attention, tilting his head to one side to see if his lover will continue to explore his throat.]

Punished, hmm? And how do you plan on punishing me, Lan Zhan? [Playful punishments like what he’s expecting now tend to excite sooner than cause harm.]

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