wuding | (no subject)

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.

( Answering Wei Ying's affection is always a compromise between shamelessly absorbing what is given freely and retaliating with love and devotion in kind. Just now, Lan Wangji's own hands fickle, he chases the lines of Wei Ying's cheeks, his temples, the cut of his beautiful eyes, the tense stretch of his forehead northbound.

Their mouths meet and it's far from seductive, only meek and humble and knowing, a hello by any other name. Water barely shifts, so deeply burdened with salts and incenses — all lotus, and for once he understands the excesses as simple homage to the pier. He drifts back, ribs knocking into the bathtub's walls, calling Wei Ying to himself to sit comfortably, however he pleases. )

Where you go, I go.

( There is no need for Wei Ying to submit himself to this, but they both know he takes his own redemption in his hands, and that in making amends for Jiang Cheng, he seeks to pay back his own part in steering the lives of these impressionable young cultivators toward disaster.

It was not Wei Ying's fault, it was not the Patriarch's legacy. He will heed neither count. )

We can, together.

[He greets this kiss as an old friend, one that he’s shared with Lan Zhan so many times it feels as natural as breathing. His head tilts ever so slightly towards Lan Zhan’s fingers. He savors the feeling that he belongs here with this man he loves with his entire soul.

He wastes no time in closing the distance between the two of them. He puts his hand on one of his husband’s knees, fingers slipping between them and gently pushing Lan Zhan’s legs apart. When his wordless request is inevitably answered, he positions himself carefully with his back pressing against Lan Zhan’s front.]

I was hoping you’d suggest that.

[He would have gone alone if Lan Zhan hadn’t been the one to bring it up. It’s his own duty to finish what he’d started by taking this task upon himself.

He stretches his legs as much as he can with the limited space, his knees coming up like two islands. At the same time, he reclines against Lan Zhan.]

After all of this is finished, I think I’ll be satisfied by the outcome. Whether things improve between me and Jiang Cheng or not, I’ll feel satisfied that I’ve done everything in my power to make things right between us.

( Things cannot improve, he knows, they both know, not while Jiang Cheng is ruled by jealousy and a private insecurity and guilt toward his brother. Even now, Wei Ying reduced to what some call a glorified concubine in a foreign clan's service, Jiang Cheng is still lesser than the sole of his boots.

And Lan Wangji, slowly opening himself to receive Wei Ying's new seating atop him, will not be the one to reduce his lover only for his fool of a brother's sake. Instead, he steels himself, bent legs like a wall around Wei Ying, his arm coming down to fetter his husband and draw him close, sweet back pliant against Lan Wangji's front.

After, waters pleasantly settling around them, he hums — satisfied. The old aches of his back draw comfort from the warmth. The road's sores ease. )

How did your core weather the exertion, my love?

[It’s dangerous to rest so comfortably in his lover’s arms. If he’s not careful, the inviting tendrils of the sleep they’d disturbed will win him over. He stifles a yawn and rotates his shoulders. He doesn’t want more sleep yet because Lan Zhan’s only just come to him after days of delay.]

It managed.

[He looks down at his own right palm. The blisters are more noticeable wet and warmed by the water. He wants to pop and drain them, but he knows it’s better to let them recede on their own. After over a year’s practice, this body is still so tender and averse to the labors of swordplay.]

I didn’t use ghost cultivation much. Just enough to gather and talk to them. I think that’s why I was so exhausted earlier… I haven’t used so much spiritual energy at once without dual cultivation since I got this body.

You are worn. ( He whispers with reserves of patience he did not know himself he still possessed, breath warm over the shell of Wei Ying's ear, his cheek. )

Eat, drink and sleep. ( The old counsel, impossibly frustrating for all young disciples who first endeavor to grow a core. Wei Ying has born through the repetition of this mantra more than he has Lan Wangji's songs of the guqin. ) You remember.

( They both remember. Even Lan Wangji, fastidious in his cultivation but dutifully obedient, grew to a point of nearly expressing impatience with the processes. He starts, uninvited, to walk his hands over Wei Ying's arms, raising water to pour it over his shoulder. )

I know it does not come easily.

[He shivers and angles his head so Lan Zhan can kiss as much of his ear and throat as he wants to. The gesture, though often erotically inclined, feels more affectionate for now. He sighs again, knowing what his husband will tell him moments before it’s confirmed.]

I was sleeping. I want to enjoy your company for a little bit.

[As the washing begins with a rinse, he moves forward to give himself the room he needs to tilt his head back, successfully wetting his hair and shoulders. It falls like a sheet against his shoulders and back. His ribbon must have come off at some point. Had it been when he was sleeping or had it fallen during his work? He can’t say for sure.]

I promise I’ll sleep as much as I need to. But don’t rush things on my account. The nap helped and so did some food. I was too tired to drink, though. I don’t suppose you’ll let me drink wine until I rest properly..?

[The wine would probably hit him harder than ever if he drinks any after draining himself so completely. There’s a reason he hadn’t reached for it immediately upon finishing.]

( Bidden, he dips his head in to chase Wei Ying's cheek again with peppered light kisses, no more than answering his invitation. They needn't progress further, at least not now, with Wei Ying still so soft and docile in his arms.

Wine, says his husband, and Lan Wangji's breath fleetingly catches, and he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks before merely murmuring: )

You've grown accustomed to Emperor's Smile. Lotus Pier may disappoint you.

( A soft refusal, if ever there was one between them. He cannot deny Wei Ying his succor, but they're both aware that he will just as readily succumb beneath the blanket of his drunken haze, that he will fail to recover in time to enjoy their hours together, after. Then, Wei Ying will resent him with morning. )

For now, am I insufficient?

[He snorts a quick laugh, breaking the tension because of how Lan Zhan tries to convince him not to drink any wine tonight - and he does recognize it as objection, though he’s not bothered by it. Maybe if they’d brought it up before his nap, he may have had a much different reaction. He also knows that Lan Zhan would give in if he whined about it enough.]

Relax, Lan Zhan, I haven’t restocked the wine today. I was going to get some on my way home, but I didn’t feel like it. I’ll get some tomorrow. [He rubs one of Lan Zhan’s knees, then pats it twice.]

Besides, I may as well not have a golden core at all at this point and I don’t know what Mo Xuanyu’s natural alcohol tolerance is like.

[He’s less concerned about the consequences on his recovery. If he really wanted to drink wine tonight, he’d find a way to get some. Right now, it just feels like too much work for not enough benefit. If he can’t sleep, he might figure something out later.]

( Relax, says Wei Ying, and some part of Lan Wangji is already wilting, assuming his rightful place at his husband's cushion and basking in the warm brilliance of waters that envelop them.

At Wei Ying's pat, on instinct, he widens the openness of his legs, stretching out to accommodate his lover even further. There's little give left, within the tight confines of their bathtub, but this will do, must do. )

The Jin have their taste for wine.

( They seldom speak of it, the truth of Mo Xuanyu's birthright, past the occasional mention of Jin Guangshan's comeuppance. Still, it is no hidden truth: he was a child of the main house, denied any claim or heritage. He looks the part, only emboldened and made striking by Wei Ying's inhabitance of his body now. )

I missed you.