( Half observation, half commandment, because he knows as they both know that Wei Ying will never renounce the opportunity to barnacle, to connect, to thrive in his husband's arms. But he can pretend, politely accepting the weight of Lan Wangji descended to envelop him from behind, coiling inward and basking.
Just now, Lan Wangji accepts his duty, rising to stand and make himself wholly presentable, the lines of his robes righted so that he may greet his child in decorum in the next room. There, a tepid welcome: Liang blinks fleetingly awake, curls and uncurls his fists and coos once, before flattening down to resume sleep. He does not appear, unlike Lan Wangji, either flushed or urgently uncomfortable, but he seems to ease and unwind further when the activated talisman is rested by his cradle to face him.
Not so close that the breeze might irritate, nor so far away that he will be ignorant of its improvements. Lan Wangji lingers a few moments longer, ostensibly to ensure the talisman is situated correctly, if far more to simply absorb the pretty sight before him: his youngest son, peaceful in ways Lan Wangji and Wei Ying were not allowed to live long.
He pulls away finally, returning to his shared quarter to sit down abed beside Wei Ying, spreading his hand over the covers without intruding on his husband. )
Your son is grateful. ( Wordlessly, in the way of tyrants. )
[He leans back against his husband, getting more out of the momentary contact before Lan Zhan goes to deliver his gift of comfort. As soon as he’s let go, he goes to fetch a pot of water for both of them to quench their thirst. He drinks a couple cups and sets it down on top of their chest of possessions.
After, he does what he said he would and gets into bed. He considers bringing out a blanket, but decides he’ll be warm enough snuggled close to his husband and won’t need the additional heat.
He proves Lan Zhan correct by watching him as he returns to the main bedroom. He’s already in the center of the bed, ready to twine their limbs together as soon as Lan Zhan comes close enough. Even he feels the relief the cooling talismans bring into the room and he’d grown up with the humid Lotus Pier heat. Maybe it’s the body or maybe he’s just acclimated so thoroughly to the relatively mild springs of Cloud Recesses.]
Is he? It’s not too cold for him? [No, Lan Liang will be fine. The temperature with the talisman is still warmer than winter nights in Cloud Recesses, but he’s only a mother and worries as one. He stifles a big yawn with the sheet, then pats the mattress next to him.] I’ll convince you to sleep in with me tomorrow. [Or Lan Zhan will wake him with sex and he’ll be the one changing his sleeping schedule.]
( Bidden, he comes like a well-nourished, self-indulgent cat to crawl beside his master and curl around him, coiled strong. Earlier, he had derided the very possibility of seeking out physical affection in the heat; now, the quiet susurration of the cooling talisman has made a fool of him.
His arms round over and beneath Wei Ying's body, bringing him close beneath silken covers so loose and thin, they may as well be gossamer. Then, in the dark of the night he summons after hushing their candles shuttered, he murmurs: )
There is no morning call.
( Spoken in something akin to wonder, in awe of the sheer profligacy of such a gesture. Impossible to think of such lax discipline in Cloud Recesses, where every hour of the day is scrupulously triaged and diligently assigned. And still, Lotus Pier somehow functions without subjecting its disciples to perpetual martial drills. )
What do men do with themselves here every morning?
[He claims his husband’s side of the bed as half his own, rolling close until he can press his face against Lan Zhan’s chest. He breathes him in, full and deep into his lungs, and lets himself relax. His bed has been empty for too long and he’s going to make sure Lan Zhan can’t disappear.]
Most people just wake up when the sun rises and the roosters crow. The academic classes are in the mornings and the physical training is in the afternoons for disciples. There’s plenty of time outside of that where we could do other things like play games or catch fish. [Or get themselves into trouble.]
But you asked about the men. I guess that depends on what their professions are. By late morning, everyone’s working or studying.
[He rests his head on Lan Zhan’s arm, looking at him despite not being able to see him well in the dark. He can imagine his face, though. Smiling, he touches Lan Zhan’s face with his fingertips.]
Not everyone sleeps the same hours I do. A lot of the evening and night merchants do. It’s not unusual to find street vendors selling food well past the start of Lan sleeping hours.
( He murmurs and tips his head into Wei Ying's searching hand, offering out his cheek for touch and his entire person for companionship his lover has never denied him, except at the worst of his descent to the dead. Some part of Lan Wangji always fears the return of that man, husked and made raw, under the stresses of necromancy. He is wise — they are both wise — to forget him now.
Coming together, he curls up with Wei Ying, only disturbing his husband's peace to drag him over Lan Wangji's body, the perfect and unassuming blanket. His mouth chases Wei Ying's temple, warm. )
To think a Patriarch so vicious emerged from softness and play. ( The rumor mill will never be able to reconcile with this. )
[He follows the gentle coaxing and drapes himself over Lan Zhan, their legs left to fight over placement until they’re both comfortable and content with the position. He lifts his head to kiss Lan Zhan, using his fingers to guide their faces close together. He keeps the kiss relatively chaste, only lingering a little while longer than he means to.
Lotus Pier is a land of decadence and leisure compared to the meticulous scheduling of Cloud Recesses. This is where he’d grown up and thrived before the war started and where he’d missed desperately when he was in the Burial Mounds. He still misses it some, but it’s a dull ache compared to the raw nostalgia in his first life. He just isn’t built to follow thousands of rules, though he does try! Still, he wouldn’t move back to Lotus Pier on a permanent basis. His life is with Gusu Lan now and he’s happy there with Lan Zhan and the kids.
He snorts a little laugh and buries his face against the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.] Imagine if I’d grown up in the Unclean Realms. I would have been brutal. Instead, I just gave the Wen Remnants a place to till the land and harvest radishes.
( A Wei Ying of the Unclean Realm would have been a brawn-led, vicious thing, impossibly brutal, prone perhaps to relishing the sulking and whining of his friends and subjects in that way of utter enthusiasm that all of clan Qinghe Nie possess. A good-hearted, honest man, still prone to play, but more prideful, more leathered.
Not Lan Wangji's love, then. Not the man who clings to him now as if a coverlet, a second skin. Wei Ying's vulnerability is his weapon. Even now, for all he's seemingly fragile spread across Lan Wangji, he dominates their encounter.
And Lan Wangji, impossibly fond, voice cracking with good humor, can't help but conceding to him in whatever way he needs done. )
[He nudges Lan Zhan’s throat with his nose, then he shakes his head as he starts to speak.]
I did. After what happened with Jin Zixuan, I did. [He doesn’t bother calling him a peacock for this. Even to him, that would feel too tacky.] And then again at the Nightless City where… you know, when I lost my shijie, I regretted it.
[He turns his head a bit and kisses Lan Zhan’s shoulder blade before he lifts his head and looks down at Lan Zhan. His vision is accustomed to the darkness now, but he still can only see a vague outline of Lan Zhan’s face.]
I don’t regret it now. It brought us together, no matter how hard it was to go through, I’d do it again because I wouldn’t want to live in a world where we’re not together.
( Jin Zixuan. Jiang Yanli. A host of other, inevitable sacrifices. Wei Ying's hands might not glisten with blood, but he has laid claim to his share of it, and Lan Wangji, shivering under his lover's mouth, can never wash away his pain.
Even now, humbled by Wei Ying's affection, he only nods and sighs and welcomes him with open arms, unable to offer him better salvation. )
Nor I. ( A pause, fleeting. Then, with inevitability: ) But a life with your sister might have been kinder.
( For all Jiang Yanli would probably have steered her brother away from his hurts, his vengeance, his outbursts — and the death and rebirth that ultimately reunited him with Lan Wangji. But would that have been such a wretched fate for Wei Ying? He suffered too much too swiftly.
Although he basks in some comeuppance now, he will never forget the cost at which that reward came. )
Kinder, maybe. Lonelier, too. She would have moved to Carp Tower eventually. And I didn’t have a great opinion about love before you. I can’t imagine why that would have changed.
[He shakes his head again, his hair falling across Lan Zhan’s shoulder as he leans over him. If he could go back in time to change anything, he would have never gone to Jinlintai to see his sister before he confronted the rest of the clans. It had always been a suicide mission even before he lost her and with her loss, the last of his control.
He doesn’t want to think too much about this right before bed. It tends to invite the nightmares.]
It wouldn’t just mean losing my future with you. We would have never known Sizhui or Liang.
[He leans down and touches the tip of his nose to Lan Zhan’s.] I don’t regret it. [He presses his lips to Lan Zhan’s, but he keeps it short, pulling back but still within Lan Zhan’s range in case he wants more.] If I had to do it all over again, I’d endure it so I could get back to you.
( His beautiful love, his only soulmate. Their noses shift and battle and collide, and he breathes in the scent of his husband's beauty, body undulating only to swallow the light movements of Wei Ying settling above.
Their kiss barely ends his spasms, itself too abrupt for Lan Wangji's appetites but likely the balm they need after heated lovemaking. Years on, he has come to trust Wei Ying with their bodies, to no longer over-direct and take command. Wei Ying too has learned to pace them.
They mirror each other, balance out, fill each other completely. )
I regret no part of this, but Father's passing and your sorrow. ( And softened: ) I am too selfish to not do as I did before, in a second life.
[He smiles while he listens, kissing Lan Zhan’s cheek and jaw just because he hasn’t satisfied his own desire for affection. He aches for his husband’s losses like he aches for his own, but what’s done is done. They’ve lived with regrets for too long already and although he does regret a few things still, he feels lighter for having talked about it.]
I love you, Lan Zhan. I know I say it all the time, so you’re used to hearing it by now, but I really do love you.
[He lays his head down on Lan Zhan’s shoulder again, nosing at his neck. He’s physically exhausted, but his mind is alert. It’s tempting to seduce Lan Zhan for some more lovemaking, but he can behave himself. Lan Zhan’s been traveling for days and it’s well past Lan sleeping hours, so he holds back.]
I’m happy. We went through a lot but we found each other in the end. Let’s give our kids the lives we should have been given. No more regrets.
[No more wars. No more losses. Just a peaceful life filled with joys and stability.]
( He murmurs in kind, and they come together in a peaceful bind, arms and legs tangled amud the reassiring beat of Wei Ying's living heart. Lan Wangji wishes to comfort and stroke him, to bring him more relief, but there are some hurts than simple man can't heal.
Jiang Yanli, the Wen, Jiang Chemg's victims. They will live in hollowed memory, even as Lan Wangji's arms tighten further around his husband, and they succumb to blissful sleep. )
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no subject
( Half observation, half commandment, because he knows as they both know that Wei Ying will never renounce the opportunity to barnacle, to connect, to thrive in his husband's arms. But he can pretend, politely accepting the weight of Lan Wangji descended to envelop him from behind, coiling inward and basking.
Just now, Lan Wangji accepts his duty, rising to stand and make himself wholly presentable, the lines of his robes righted so that he may greet his child in decorum in the next room. There, a tepid welcome: Liang blinks fleetingly awake, curls and uncurls his fists and coos once, before flattening down to resume sleep. He does not appear, unlike Lan Wangji, either flushed or urgently uncomfortable, but he seems to ease and unwind further when the activated talisman is rested by his cradle to face him.
Not so close that the breeze might irritate, nor so far away that he will be ignorant of its improvements. Lan Wangji lingers a few moments longer, ostensibly to ensure the talisman is situated correctly, if far more to simply absorb the pretty sight before him: his youngest son, peaceful in ways Lan Wangji and Wei Ying were not allowed to live long.
He pulls away finally, returning to his shared quarter to sit down abed beside Wei Ying, spreading his hand over the covers without intruding on his husband. )
Your son is grateful. ( Wordlessly, in the way of tyrants. )
no subject
After, he does what he said he would and gets into bed. He considers bringing out a blanket, but decides he’ll be warm enough snuggled close to his husband and won’t need the additional heat.
He proves Lan Zhan correct by watching him as he returns to the main bedroom. He’s already in the center of the bed, ready to twine their limbs together as soon as Lan Zhan comes close enough. Even he feels the relief the cooling talismans bring into the room and he’d grown up with the humid Lotus Pier heat. Maybe it’s the body or maybe he’s just acclimated so thoroughly to the relatively mild springs of Cloud Recesses.]
Is he? It’s not too cold for him? [No, Lan Liang will be fine. The temperature with the talisman is still warmer than winter nights in Cloud Recesses, but he’s only a mother and worries as one. He stifles a big yawn with the sheet, then pats the mattress next to him.] I’ll convince you to sleep in with me tomorrow. [Or Lan Zhan will wake him with sex and he’ll be the one changing his sleeping schedule.]
no subject
His arms round over and beneath Wei Ying's body, bringing him close beneath silken covers so loose and thin, they may as well be gossamer. Then, in the dark of the night he summons after hushing their candles shuttered, he murmurs: )
There is no morning call.
( Spoken in something akin to wonder, in awe of the sheer profligacy of such a gesture. Impossible to think of such lax discipline in Cloud Recesses, where every hour of the day is scrupulously triaged and diligently assigned. And still, Lotus Pier somehow functions without subjecting its disciples to perpetual martial drills. )
What do men do with themselves here every morning?
no subject
Most people just wake up when the sun rises and the roosters crow. The academic classes are in the mornings and the physical training is in the afternoons for disciples. There’s plenty of time outside of that where we could do other things like play games or catch fish. [Or get themselves into trouble.]
But you asked about the men. I guess that depends on what their professions are. By late morning, everyone’s working or studying.
[He rests his head on Lan Zhan’s arm, looking at him despite not being able to see him well in the dark. He can imagine his face, though. Smiling, he touches Lan Zhan’s face with his fingertips.]
Not everyone sleeps the same hours I do. A lot of the evening and night merchants do. It’s not unusual to find street vendors selling food well past the start of Lan sleeping hours.
no subject
( He murmurs and tips his head into Wei Ying's searching hand, offering out his cheek for touch and his entire person for companionship his lover has never denied him, except at the worst of his descent to the dead. Some part of Lan Wangji always fears the return of that man, husked and made raw, under the stresses of necromancy. He is wise — they are both wise — to forget him now.
Coming together, he curls up with Wei Ying, only disturbing his husband's peace to drag him over Lan Wangji's body, the perfect and unassuming blanket. His mouth chases Wei Ying's temple, warm. )
To think a Patriarch so vicious emerged from softness and play. ( The rumor mill will never be able to reconcile with this. )
no subject
[He follows the gentle coaxing and drapes himself over Lan Zhan, their legs left to fight over placement until they’re both comfortable and content with the position. He lifts his head to kiss Lan Zhan, using his fingers to guide their faces close together. He keeps the kiss relatively chaste, only lingering a little while longer than he means to.
Lotus Pier is a land of decadence and leisure compared to the meticulous scheduling of Cloud Recesses. This is where he’d grown up and thrived before the war started and where he’d missed desperately when he was in the Burial Mounds. He still misses it some, but it’s a dull ache compared to the raw nostalgia in his first life. He just isn’t built to follow thousands of rules, though he does try! Still, he wouldn’t move back to Lotus Pier on a permanent basis. His life is with Gusu Lan now and he’s happy there with Lan Zhan and the kids.
He snorts a little laugh and buries his face against the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.] Imagine if I’d grown up in the Unclean Realms. I would have been brutal. Instead, I just gave the Wen Remnants a place to till the land and harvest radishes.
no subject
Not Lan Wangji's love, then. Not the man who clings to him now as if a coverlet, a second skin. Wei Ying's vulnerability is his weapon. Even now, for all he's seemingly fragile spread across Lan Wangji, he dominates their encounter.
And Lan Wangji, impossibly fond, voice cracking with good humor, can't help but conceding to him in whatever way he needs done. )
Do you regret?
no subject
I did. After what happened with Jin Zixuan, I did. [He doesn’t bother calling him a peacock for this. Even to him, that would feel too tacky.] And then again at the Nightless City where… you know, when I lost my shijie, I regretted it.
[He turns his head a bit and kisses Lan Zhan’s shoulder blade before he lifts his head and looks down at Lan Zhan. His vision is accustomed to the darkness now, but he still can only see a vague outline of Lan Zhan’s face.]
I don’t regret it now. It brought us together, no matter how hard it was to go through, I’d do it again because I wouldn’t want to live in a world where we’re not together.
no subject
Even now, humbled by Wei Ying's affection, he only nods and sighs and welcomes him with open arms, unable to offer him better salvation. )
Nor I. ( A pause, fleeting. Then, with inevitability: ) But a life with your sister might have been kinder.
( For all Jiang Yanli would probably have steered her brother away from his hurts, his vengeance, his outbursts — and the death and rebirth that ultimately reunited him with Lan Wangji. But would that have been such a wretched fate for Wei Ying? He suffered too much too swiftly.
Although he basks in some comeuppance now, he will never forget the cost at which that reward came. )
no subject
[He shakes his head again, his hair falling across Lan Zhan’s shoulder as he leans over him. If he could go back in time to change anything, he would have never gone to Jinlintai to see his sister before he confronted the rest of the clans. It had always been a suicide mission even before he lost her and with her loss, the last of his control.
He doesn’t want to think too much about this right before bed. It tends to invite the nightmares.]
It wouldn’t just mean losing my future with you. We would have never known Sizhui or Liang.
[He leans down and touches the tip of his nose to Lan Zhan’s.] I don’t regret it. [He presses his lips to Lan Zhan’s, but he keeps it short, pulling back but still within Lan Zhan’s range in case he wants more.] If I had to do it all over again, I’d endure it so I could get back to you.
no subject
( His beautiful love, his only soulmate. Their noses shift and battle and collide, and he breathes in the scent of his husband's beauty, body undulating only to swallow the light movements of Wei Ying settling above.
Their kiss barely ends his spasms, itself too abrupt for Lan Wangji's appetites but likely the balm they need after heated lovemaking. Years on, he has come to trust Wei Ying with their bodies, to no longer over-direct and take command. Wei Ying too has learned to pace them.
They mirror each other, balance out, fill each other completely. )
I regret no part of this, but Father's passing and your sorrow. ( And softened: ) I am too selfish to not do as I did before, in a second life.
no subject
I love you, Lan Zhan. I know I say it all the time, so you’re used to hearing it by now, but I really do love you.
[He lays his head down on Lan Zhan’s shoulder again, nosing at his neck. He’s physically exhausted, but his mind is alert. It’s tempting to seduce Lan Zhan for some more lovemaking, but he can behave himself. Lan Zhan’s been traveling for days and it’s well past Lan sleeping hours, so he holds back.]
I’m happy. We went through a lot but we found each other in the end. Let’s give our kids the lives we should have been given. No more regrets.
[No more wars. No more losses. Just a peaceful life filled with joys and stability.]
no subject
( He murmurs in kind, and they come together in a peaceful bind, arms and legs tangled amud the reassiring beat of Wei Ying's living heart. Lan Wangji wishes to comfort and stroke him, to bring him more relief, but there are some hurts than simple man can't heal.
Jiang Yanli, the Wen, Jiang Chemg's victims. They will live in hollowed memory, even as Lan Wangji's arms tighten further around his husband, and they succumb to blissful sleep. )