wuding | (no subject)

What for?

Only time will tell if things between us are on the mend.

For granting him no good faith.

It’s hard to know what he’s thinking these days.

I’m going to check with the nursemaid to make sure she doesn’t mind keeping Lan Liang tonight. I want to see him before my nap, too.

I have but two shichen of travel. Shall arrive before midnight.

You are certain you may bide alone until then?

I might spend the whole time asleep.

You’re sure you’ll be awake enough to bathe with me when you come in?

Forgive me. I could not bear the road dust.

Nothing to forgive. I’ll wait until you come in to bathe, then.

Talking with you has made me feel loads better.

...Wei Ying. 'Every day' need not be today.

I know. I miss you and want to see you as soon as you come in.

We don’t have to sleep together if we’re too tired, but I want to hold you for a little while.

Very well, my love.

( And he is slow to answer after, slave to the haste that always serves to deliver him to Wei Ying hale and whole and ready to withstand whatever demons trouble his husband. The shadow of Jiang Cheng on this night, for all the man lives and breathes unworthily mere quarters away.

Wei Ying spoke truth: for the first time in Lan Wangji's recollection, he is direction to family rooms, rather than a serviceable accommodation in the hosting compound. He is served a lighter meal, attended with lesser flourish, for all he is both Hanguang-Jun and the acting sect leader of Gusu Lan. And it isn't a lack of respect or hospitality, he comes to understand, but the simple intimacy afforded to... family. Ah, what a strange exchange.

After a brief visit to hold Sizhui close, he enters Wei Ying's rooms with care not to disrupt either his exhausted child — briefly attended, looking fatigued but pleasantly pink-cheeked for his travels — or his lover. In the end, the bed creaking tenderly beneath him, he settles at Wei Ying's side, wary to touch and spook him awake with midnight. )

Wei Ying.

[It’s nearly a half a shi before he finds himself back in his room. He takes his outer layers off and leaves them in a small pile near the foot of the bed. They’ll need to be washed come morning after a night hunt, so he doesn’t see the point in folding them. He lies down on top of the covers, partially because he doesn’t want to dirty the sheets and partly because he’s feeling too lazy to get in the bed properly.

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep. While he does dream, it’s not the sort of dream that would wake him shaken. By the time he starts to wake, he’s already forgotten what it had been about.

He blinks slowly, then takes the time to stretch his legs and back with a pleased grunt before licking his lips and speaking.]

Lan Zhan.

[He smiles, taking in his lover’s appearance. It’s only been a few days and they’ve been in contact throughout their travels, but he still missed his husband like an amputee misses a limb.]

I had a bath drawn for us. Should still be hot.

[He pushes himself up to a half-seated position and tilts his face towards Lan Zhan’s.]

Aren’t you going to kiss your husband?

( A bath and his husband, all the comforts of a beautiful world displayed tranquil before him. Wei Ying is as if a flower coming to bloom under the sun, helplessly responsive. Lan Wangji answers him in kind, leaning in to bring their mouths together, hands cupping his cheeks.

They are stronger together, brittle apart. To think that Wei Ying bore through the day's hardships alone, his skin sizzling with the residue of malevolent energies — He shudders, draws back, catches his fingers in Wei Ying's hair to stroke the tresses. And his mouth gives chase after, tender. )

You have done so well, standing strong today. ( And his heart breaks, his voice quivers. ) You need be no longer tonight.

[Their kiss is relatively chaste, but he doesn’t mind. He feels the peace of Lan Zhan’s presence and stability that he had been craving since earlier. He even smiles, a weaker thing than when he’s in playful mood, but still genuine. He closes his eyes and lets Lan Zhan give him affection. His fingers pinch at silk and tugs Lan Zhan closer still.]

I know, Lan Zhan. I can be myself with you, no matter what.

[He opens his eyes again and touches Lan Zhan’s cheek. His husband looks worn from travel, but no less handsome for it. His fingers trace Lan Zhan’s cheek, pushing his hair behind his ear.]

It wasn’t good. There had to have been more than a hundred victims. Not all of them came back, and most of the ones that did weren’t strong. There were only a few that were somewhat challenging.

[His eyes drop when he speaks, feeling somewhat ashamed despite not being the one at fault.]

( At times, this is all that Wei Ying needs: a listening ear, someone to absorb the brunt of his violent chatter. A willing, considering partner who does not rush to dismiss him.

And Lan Wangji offers him that, merely straightening his back as he resumes sitting on the bed's border, hands pressed docilely on his knees — at first. Later, inevitably, the mellow bend of Wei Ying's back invites consideration, and he finds himself reaching out to stroke it, to sweetly whisk away his husband's hair that's run riotous on his forehead. To return him to a formality Wei Ying never appreciates and seldom understands. )

Did you... speak to them? ( Were their hurts, their private wants shared? Did Wei Ying have to soothe one and all? ) You calmed their ailings?

( A torturous task for even the most committed practitioner. Wei Ying is no such saintly being, whatever his whims. )

[He moves incrementally closer to Lan Zhan, inviting whatever touch his husband chooses to share. His own hands idly play with the hem of one of his husband’s sleeves, nodding his agreement.]

For most of them. The ones that were more coherent were easier to persuade and pacify. There was a group of kids younger than Sizhui among them. There were elderly there, too. Most of them were satisfied with my to promise to tell their families what happened to them.

[He moves closer still, until they’re close enough to touch. He doesn’t want to think too deeply about it, but he wants to get it off his chest at the same time.]

I only had to exterminate five—no, six of them, that were too far gone.

( Ah, but his beautiful love has all but slipped on his legs, and Lan Wangji nudges and nurses his affection toward him, pulls and tugs to drag his husband properly in his lap. No harm can come to Wei Ying when he is sat so, obediently heeding.

Around him, Lan Wangji's arms sit to nestle him, to keep him safe. From ghosts, from dreams, from nightmares. From the man who rules these realms and sleeps perhaps too well for all that he's done to kids younger than Sizhui. )

Better exterminated than suffering with the malady of a corrupted soul. You know so.

( There is ache that only a soul tattered and fissured may feel, hurt unending. Lan Wangji's mouth chases his husband's temple to allay him. )

You delivered them unto peace.

[He knows he’s done well this evening to alleviate the suffering of so many souls, but the pride of this achievement is overshadowed by the knowledge that Jiang Cheng had lost his humanity towards ghost cultivators somewhere along the way. He can blame himself all day, but it doesn’t change that it happened.

At least there had been no evidence of any victims from the last two and a half years.

He starts to relax with Lan Zhan surrounding him. He knows he’s safe in Lan Zhan’s arms no matter who or what could possibly try and hurt him and he takes comfort in that.]

I know, I know. I did everything right. No one got hurt. The locals are safer without so many hauntings in the area. It doesn’t erase what he did, and it shouldn’t, but maybe I’ll be able to rest a little easier knowing their suffering is over. I haven’t been able to get the thought of them out of my head since I found out they existed.

[He takes a long, slow breath, letting the scent of sandalwood, travel, and the salty undertones of his husband’s skin fill his lungs. If he stays like this for too long, he might drift back to sleep.]

It’s done. Mostly done… one of the things I wanted to talk to Jiang Cheng about is reparations. Once I tell the families of the victims what happened to their loved ones, whoever isn’t intimidated by his position will want some sort of justice.

What... reparations can there be? ( His voice raspy, his grip around Wei Ying strong. There is no greater humbling but the understanding that that which Jing Cheng has torn apart can never once more be mended. )

He claimed the lives of fathers, of husbands, of sons. ( Coin will not compensate. Forgiveness can never truly be won. Even the most compassionate of hearts will struggle to beat without acrimony for the killer of a loved one.

Lan Wangji, for all his compassion, would not welcome a man's remorse for something so dire, so unequivocal. There are lines. There is too much blood shed, a wealth spawned. Still, this is not what Wei Ying wishes to hear. )

The offer will not be remiss.

It’s not my place to say. I know that coin and land would be a poor replacement for a loved one. I’m sure some will want Jiang Cheng punished for what he’s done and others will never feel like justice has been served no matter what. But maybe it can help a few families that are struggling to make ends meet.

[No, it isn’t what he wants to hear. Far from it. But it’s something he’s been anxious over since he’d finished the exorcisms earlier in the night. It’s not just the families. It’s Jiang Cheng, too, who may feel haughty and insulted by the whole thing.

He squirms in Lan Zhan’s arms until he can rest his cheek on Lan Zhan’s chest. Hearing his heartbeat is always a comfort.]

It would be an insult to the families to offer reparations as a third party, so I won’t suggest it unless the situation looks dire when I visit the homes of the victims. It’s their business if they want to seek something like that.

There’s no right answer for any of this.

( There is no right answer, less of one that is Wei Ying's to give. They know this, bleed with hurt for it. Lan Wangji's arms bind around him, and he calls his lover close, and they are silent, far too silent, marred by the sickness of Jiang Cheng's infamy.

Against his chest, Wei Ying's cheek is warm, feverish. The signs of a living thing, and isn't that Lan Wangji's gladness, his fortune? How dare he speak, when his beloved could be returned, yet the family and spouses of all these mourners cannot?

His arms round around Wei Ying, quicken their fastening. He breathes, punched and long. No right answer. No solution. )

Would that there were, my love. Would that there were. ( Would that he could provide his lover with at least the dregs of solace. ) May I bathe you?

[He takes comfort in his lover’s presence around him. He can bask in affectionate warmth even as he’s seen so much suffering a mere two shi before. He had a role in that suffering, but not one his own making. He’d betrayed Jiang Cheng when he lost control, igniting in him a bitter hatred that manifested in the ways it had.

And he’s done what he could to make things right, but in the end it isn’t enough. Can never be enough.

Telling the families affected by this tragedy will confirm speculations and shock those who were unaware of their loved ones’ delves into the occult arts. It will likely make Jiang Cheng’s life harder, as well it should.]

Sure.

[He stretches in Lan Zhan’s arms before lifting his head from his chest. He kisses his husband’s jaw briefly before moving a short distance away and looking at Lan Zhan’s face.]

This whole situation sucks, but it sucks less after putting all those souls to rest.

[He assumes Lan Zhan’s will carry him to the tub, so he wraps his arms around his husband’s neck and works with him until they’re in a mutually comfortable position.]

Jiang Cheng can’t just pretend none of it happened anymore. I don’t know what that’s going to look like or if my relationship with him will survive it, but I hope he grows from it.

( Can he? There is a resilience in Jiang Cheng, an obsessive resistance to all that is progress, change, redemption. He has decided firmly, unilaterally and without hesitation that he will take on the world to reduce his hurt — and bloom that of others.

Lan Wangji cannot admire that. Cannot respect it.

He endeavors, unbidden and slow, to lift his husband as Wei Ying rearranges himself instinctively to latch on. Their fingers bind, connect, noose. For a few heartbeats, standing with his foremost treasure, Wangji needs to decipher where the bath has been placed — before he begins to walk them to deposit his lover on the rim, looking down at waters drawn and kept steaming and elegantly set by heating talismans.

After, he begins the work of unwrapping Wei Ying loose from his silks, unfettering his belt, pulling at his tunic. )

He knew your intentions here. He offered you familial rooms still.

[He surrenders himself into submission, letting Lan Zhan dictate where and how he’ll move. The few moments of passivity is what he needs to remind himself that there’s nothing he can do tonight to change anything. He’s already let this unhappy business sour his mood for long enough. He should be feeling joy for their reunion.

If only it were as easy to change as that.]

That’s true. Surely he’d know that I’d be speaking with the families during all this.

[He follows Lan Zhan’s lead, helping to make disrobing him as seamless as possible. As soon as he’s nude, he starts to return the favor.]

I really am glad you’re here with me now. Not just because it was a taxing night hunt, either. [He smiles, eyes meeting Lan Zhan’s for a handful of moments.] I missed you. But you’re here with me now, and that means I get to kiss you and hold you as much as I want to.

( Slowly, they navigate the need to bare themselves in increments, removing layers with brisk hands, seducing each other into good behavior. It's Wei Ying's turn, first. Wei Ying who then slithers and coils around him and assists to unwrap him, until they are both carefully unbound, and Lan Wangji holds his hand out to escort his husband into the waters.

He follows after, careful and only slightly cunning, at ease when Wei Ying only once settles within and Lan Wangji can give chase. There's an inevitable comfort to surrendering oneself to warm waters, muscles relaxing, Lan Wangji's body whole reacting to dismiss the hauntings of travel. )

I thought I would come and bed you to give you gladness. To distract you. ( A pause, then tentatively: ) I believe what you need is to speak.

[He enters the bath slowly enough to let himself adjust to the heat of the water - somewhat hotter than the baths in Cloud Recesses. He relaxes almost immediately, humming a note of pleasure as his whole body is submerged up to his mid-chest. He brings his knees up to his chest and holds them close to give Lan Zhan all the room he needs to follow.

Once they’re both in, he lets go of his knees and spreads out to claim enough space for comfort. That also includes tangling his legs with his husband’s and scooting close enough to press their sides together.]

I wouldn’t take bedding off the table completely.

[He doesn’t seem to mind delaying it, however. He grabs for one of Lan Zhan’s hands and starts to massage it and sprinkles some kisses along his fingertips.]

But we can talk more first. I am going to try and go in person to tell the families who live closer to Lotus Pier while we’re in the area. I’ll just do a few per day since I want to spend time with you and the kids, too.

[He nuzzles Lan Zhan’s hand, then turns it so he can rest his cheek against the palm. Lan Zhan’s hands are somewhat calloused from swordplay, but he doesn’t mind. His own hands are getting rougher the longer he resides in this body. Today, he has some blisters along his right palm from working so much earlier in the evening.]

I’ll map out where the more distant homes are and see if I can swing visiting them in person, too. No one should have to hear about losing their loved ones in a letter.