wuding | Date in Lotus Pier

[He’s laying flat on his stomach with his legs below the knee hanging off the edge of the mattress by the time he hears Lan Zhan’s approach. He rolls onto his side and pushes himself up into a sitting position. As soon as he sees the look on Lan Zhan’s face, his heart feels heavy with guilt about having his pout. Maybe it’s the heat getting to him and making him so moody.]

You still want to?

[He hadn’t been sure if their date was going to continue after witnessing Jin Ling’s arrival. He scoots to the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t stand up. Instead, he holds a hand out to Lan Zhan’s like he’s a delicate maiden needing to be helped to her feet.]

I should have told you as soon as I found out about Jin Ling coming while we’re staying here. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but obviously you don’t feel the same way. [He leaves the apology unspoken.]

( Gently, soft-handed, he grasps Wei Ying's hand, starting to tug him upward and call him close. At the end, just before relinquishing him, he brings his husband's fingers to brush his mouth over Wei Ying's knuckles. Beautiful, whatever their quarrel.

In the end, he can't bear to part — drags him into the comforting breadth of his chest, to cushion him. He starts, still far too tender, to brush the back of Wei Ying's long, already tangling tresses. The heat, claiming another prisoner. His hair will want unknotting and attendance later.

And finally, it's ripped from him: )

I wish I could love him.

( He had thought, more fool he, that life would be simple now that Wei Ying has returned, his name largely cleansed. That they could delight in their family, in love and in peace.

But it terrifies him to understand he might never forgive Jin Ling, and that this branch of their family will always be distant to him. That he might come to be estranged from Sizhui as a result. )

[He stands, only using Lan Zhan’s hand a little to help lift him up. He doesn’t need to use it at all, but he wants to. It’s a little way that they can be together instead of pushing themselves apart with prolonging their little spat. A smile tugs at his lips as he watches his husband kiss his knuckles and he steps into the embrace at the same time Lan Zhan pulls him close.

He sighs and nudges his nose against Lan Zhan’s chest. He smells of sandalwood and sweat, but he doesn’t mind it one bit.]

I understand why you don’t. Between him stabbing me and winning the heart of our eldest son, it makes sense for it to be hard for you to tolerate him.

[He leans back just enough to be able to look up at Lan Zhan’s face. All he can offer is an understanding smile.]

I wish you could love him, too. He doesn’t make it easy, does he?

[He pries his hand out from the embrace so he can touch Lan Zhan’s cheek. It would be so much easier if Lan Zhan could forgive Jin Ling for his faults, but he knows hearts don’t mend easily with wishes as the only medicine.]

Sorry for storming off like that. I wasn’t upset at you as much as I was upset at myself for forgetting and I figured if I stayed in there for long, I’d take it out on you.

( His husband, his poison, his salvation. The only man capable of bringing Hanguang-Jun to his knees with a smile, sooner than a word. They take their time nuzzling, scenting one another, absorbing their warmth until they reach the point of near-intolerability.

Still, Lan Wangji endures, dipping his cheek to fit into Wei Ying's palm, basking in his affection. He all but purrs, a contented cat. )

Apologies unnecessary. ( They are both the creatures of instinct and whims — as swordsmen are so often wont to be. ) Should not have ignored Wei Ying.

( A pause, then reaching in to brush his lips over his husband's forehead - ) He has never done well neglected.

( Even in their youth, Wei Ying would only become more restless and stubbornly set in his ways, if Lan Wangji failed to pay him attention. )

[It’s dangerous lingering so close like this. Lan Zhan had warned him that he might want to dally if they came back to their room. A few more moments couldn’t hurt. As long as they don’t start kissing, they’ll eventually peel themselves off of each other.]

You never could ignore me for long. I bet you were only pretending to back then, too.

[He squeezes Lan Zhan close for a few heartbeats and then lets him go, stepping back. As nice as it would be to spend the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, they may not get another chance to go swimming. Lan Zhan’s been so overheated since mid-morning which is the perfect time for it. The waters aren’t as cold as they are in Cloud Recesses, but they’re cool enough to be refreshing. Especially during spring before the lakes warm up.]

Think you can walk away from the cool air in here long enough to take a dip in the lakes?

I can.

( He will be valiant, heroic. A credit to Cloud Recesses and a fond example to his sons. He will, and does, arm himself with patience, strength and perseverance as he takes his distance from Wei Ying to smoothly step behind his husband as he is no better than a dutiful concubine who knows his place.

He must, after all, if they mean to get there. In an effort to create more shade, Yunmeng's architectures are practically labyrinthine. He depends on Wei Ying to direct him at every step. )

Will two layers suffice for bathing? ( Somehow, he doubts Lotus Pier demands more modesty from its swimmers than does the entirety of Gusu Lan. )

[One more look around the room to make sure he isn’t forgetting anything before he leads the way to… Lan Liang’s room. He hadn’t had an opportunity to greet their beautiful boy yet and he can still hear him babbling and playing with his nursemaid. When Lan Liang notices his mother has come to see him, he reaches out as far as he can.

Who is he to deny his son’s wishes? Wei Wuxian steps close and picks the toddler up so he can give him some quick kisses and lingering hugs.]

We’ll be back soon, okay? [No, separation is never okay. Does Lan Liang recognize the words or is he picking up on his mother’s mood? Whatever the reason, Lan Liang’s little fist clutches a handful of Wei Wuxian’s hair and jerks it meanly.] If you’re trying to get me to want to stay, you’re doing a bad job of convincing me.

[He still kisses his son’s forehead before extracting himself. He bows gratefully to the nursemaid before taking Lan Zhan’s hand.] Ready?

( This cheeky little huli jing, their youngest son, already a heartbreaker. Liang spares no effort to woo Wei Ying close and into his grubby little hands, desperate for affection that Wei Ying likewise would never refuse him. Truly, a cunning pair.

Throughout this shocking display of innocent affection, Lan Wangji stoically weathers without a word, only lightly raising a brow to signal he is perfectly aware of the games young master Liang plays and likes them not. For his part, the toddler puffs his cheeks even rounder, hiding in the nook of his mother's shoulder.

Their son surrendered back to his nursemaid, Wangji drifts after Wei Ying, determined to make himself a devoted shadow. Ready, he needn't say, but steals Wei Ying's hand into his own. )

Your son has become crafty.

[He smiles, squeezing Lan Zhan’s hand softly and leading him the way to the main door. Maybe he’d been too quick to dismiss naughty behavior instead of punishing it, but he doesn’t want to be like Madame Yu. Sometimes he gets moody, but he loves his kids too much to want them to feel like he doesn’t.]

Yeah, he has, hasn’t he? I’ll work with him on it.

[He stops at the door, turning to face Lan Zhan before leaving their rooms.]

Oh, right! You were asking about what to wear, weren’t you? You’re overdressed, if anything. Guys around here usually just wear their pants when they’re swimming. You could get away with wearing more because your clothes go translucent when they’re wet. But if you want to change or take something off, now’s your last chance.

( ...overdressed, yet he looks down on his dwindled modesty and shudders to think of reducing it further. No, let Wei Ying attempt the lion's brunt of their audacity. Lan Wangji is satisfied.

If anything, his husband should ne the one to don further layers, and Lan Wangji's measuring glance conveys exactly his thoughts on half of Yunmeng glimpsing his soulmate. Local mores, he knows. Local... mores... )

I relinquish my last chance. ( And softened, nudging Wei Ying along with a palm to the arc of his lower back - )

You must be good. Demure. Not tempting.

What difference does it make? You’ll be tempted even if I behave myself.

[He’s only teasing, but there’s some truth to it. They tend to come close together and flirt when there’s even a pretense of privacy. The thing that will save his husband’s honor is the water’s temperature. It’s easier to resist each other when the coolness will keep their bodies from reacting too much to each other.

He leads the way out of their rooms and towards the docks. On the way there, he talks over his shoulder about how he used to go swimming in different places and how he found a secluded little cove when he’d gotten bored of the same scenery he’d seen every day.

The ancestral hall isn’t far from their path and seeing it reminds him that they were going to do their third bows in front of his adopted family. He squeezes Lan Zhan’s hand and looks over his shoulder again to smile when he brings it up.]

Let’s stop by the Ancestral Hall first. I want to share my good fortune with them and introduce you properly as my husband.

( Another small detour, but he cannot fault his husband. Truly, they've sworn to pledge themselves before the ancestors, and the hall has awaited, too long cold. It's monstrously ornate, yet somehow still austere, beautiful despite its air of heavy-handed nobility.

Lan Wangji walks with timid steps, slowed, careful. These are not his dead, this is not his house. Before Wei Ying need ask, he takes the knee, patiently positioning himself to prostrate before the oft-cleansed tablets of Madam Yu, Jiang Fengmian and, replicated, Jiang Yanli.

His hands cup before him, but he waits until Wei Ying has likewise seated, before speaking his raspy entreaty to the dead: )

Wangji, son of Gusu Lan, pays respect to the house of Jiang. Humbly, I beg you bless my matrimony.

[He feels a burden lift when they arrive and enter the Ancestral Hall. The last time he’d come here, he hadn’t really been welcome and that had weighed heavily on him. Now feels different and he’s on the same page when it comes to his relationship with Lan Zhan, too.

He takes his place at his husband’s side, prostrated before his adoptive ancestors. He cups his hands in front of him and lets Lan Zhan start first as his husband.]

Wei Wuxian, son of Wei Changze and Cangse Sahren, pays respect to the house of Jiang.

Jiang-Shufu, Madame Yu, Shijie. It’s been too long since I’ve visited. I brought Lan Zhan with me again, and this time I beg for your blessings over our marriage. He’s a good man and he’s been taking care of me well.

[This time, he doesn’t have to keep quiet about it. He does refrain from mentioning his mending relationship with Jiang Cheng. He’ll come back to pray again before he goes back to Cloud Recesses.

As the wife, he waits for Lan Zhan to initiate their bows. One to Heaven and Earth, one to the ancestors, and one to each other.]

( At first, they'd fumbled. Then, their rites were stiff. Already, they've married and married again often enough that Lan Wangji feels a practised hand, executing their triad of bows in a carefree flow of deep prostrations.

He is barely recovering from the third, when a certain giddiness erupts in him, the knowledge that they've only to exchange bites of white rice and sips of wine to complete their latest renewal, and they can bide their time until Wei Ying's red robes arrive. The smile that tints his mouth threatens to paralyze it in a shameful display of his blatant happiness.

Peering through deep-curtaining lashes, he murmurs: )

Wei Ying, we are nearly wed. ( ...again. Surely, at some point they've revisited the occasion often enough that it becomes pedestrian. Surely... )

[As he lifts his head from the third bow, he catches the look on Lan Zhan’s face. The gravity of their actions hits him shortly after and he grins. This time they’d been witnessed by his family and somehow that feels monumental. They haven’t wed in front of living relatives yet, but that will come some day. As long as they breathe, there will always be another wedding.

He feels the pleasant warmth rise to his cheeks and he reaches into his robe to fetch his qiankun pouch. He digs into it for a moment before presenting a bottle of Emperor’s Smile he likes to keep on hand for this very thing.]

More than halfway there. You aren’t carrying around rice, are you?

Just kidding!

[He laughs a little and shakes his head, then digs around a little more until he pulls out some bundled rice from breakfast.]

( ...how is it his dearest husband can be parted from his soulmate, his weapons and his home without trouble, but never his wine? Lan Wangji might feel the pricklings of jealousy, were he not devoted to sparing inanimate objects the worst of his emotional ire.

With a sigh, he waves away Wei Ying's enthusiastic proposal, determining for both: ) Remember your red robes.

( It would be the finest waste of a commission to neglect the silks Wei Ying has gone through minor pains to order, covertly. Lan Wangji cannot bear to deny himself such a beautiful sight. )

And your bridge gifts. ( For all Wei Ying has failed to deliver a dowry. )

[He pauses, looking down at the wine and leftover rice, then he returns them to his qiankun pouch after a few moments of thought. Lan Zhan’s right. They want to have a real wedding in a few days with a local wine and fresh rice worthy of the ceremony. Doing it here in a makeshift unplanned ceremony would only be an insult to the memories of his family.

He fits the qiankun pouch back into place and reaches for Lan Zhan’s hand instead.]

Yeah, you’re right. We should do it properly. I just get excited when I get the chance to marry you.

[He looks back towards the placards indicating his family members and wonders if Jiang Cheng would be uncomfortable or offended if they renew their marriage in the Ancestral Hall. It’s hard to say. Jiang Cheng has accepted his choice in partners but it’s clear he doesn’t like it.]

We’ll be back in a few days. I want to show you our wedding reds. [Whether they bow here or at the nearest temple will be a decision for later.]

( He wonders, fleetingly, if he has done Wei Ying a disservice, refusing him the warmth and effusiveness implicit in a surprise wedding. Whether perhaps he might have thrived more, if he were permitted to claim his husband on his own terms.

Lan Wangji's head bows, and he thinks back on every other moment when he allowed his excess of formality to restrict and chain and injure his husband. When he failed him. His hand goes out timidly to capture Wei Ying's beside him in a gentle, bleeding-out squeeze.

He shutters his eyes against whatever reproaches Wei Ying might deliver him. )

We need not always do as I wish. If... you prefer the marriage done now. ( But then, did Wei Ying not already impose his view to complete their bows now? He is not as silent as before and perhaps should be rightfully trusted. )

[He squeezes Lan Zhan’s hand gently, bringing it up to kiss the knuckles. There, he thinks, he’s kissed his husband with his family as witness. He finds that he really does want to come back to perform their bows in their wedding reds. Is it selfish to want that when Jiang Cheng hasn’t yet found a woman up to his standards who would tolerate marriage with him.]

You made a good point.

[He kisses the knuckles another time before lowering their hands back between them. He’d been excited about the idea of a surprise wedding, but he’s not heartbroken to wait for three more days.]

We can come back in three days with new rice and wine. Madame Yu would be insulted if we don’t do it properly with fresh rice and wedding robes. We can even plan a short seclusion. Maybe just a few hours or half a day, but we’ll want to celebrate our union. [To consummate their marriage. It always feels the most special when they lie together after marrying.]

( His knuckles, kissed, bear the print of Wei Ying's mouth, the wet of it a friendly, warm sheen. He curls his fingers inward, squeezing. Releases, then grasps Wei Ying's hand again. Truly, his lover is a miracle performed at the price of Mo Xuanyu's life, an undoubted exception.

Would Madam Yu truly oppose their union for its lack of decorum? He suspects, all else equal, she would be just as rejecting or indifferent to their marriage under whatever their circumstances. Now and then, Wei Ying appears to deceive himself that his aunt bore him some degree of tangible affection. Lan Wangji doubts it so: love is not a thing of torture, a weapon thrust against those weaker or of humbler standing. Love is not a hardship, or a punishment to be inflicted.

But he cannot harm his husband with that reminder. Here and now, he has agreed to beg this woman's blessing — and he has bowed his back. He cannot come back with belated objections. )

We cannot seclude and ignore Sizhui. ( They cannot seclude, he does not say, and leave Sizhui alone to his devices with Jin Ling. ) Shall we swim?

[He smiles through his disappointment. He knows they shouldn’t spend all their time in their rooms together when they’re here to spend time with family, but he can’t help but feel somewhat let down. It’s not because he’s just a pervert who wants an excuse to sleep with his husband. They’ll still sleep together that night before bed, so they won’t risk missing that particular part of the ritual. It’s just that it’s been part of their weddings up until this coming one.

He nods his head and squeezes Lan Zhan’s hand before letting it go and getting back to his feet only to offer it to Lan Zhan again.]

Let’s go swimming! Tomorrow, we can fly kites with the kids. [He only hopes he remembers to buy one for Jin Ling beforehand. He doesn’t want the kid to feel left out.

He waits until they’re out of the Ancestral Hall to wrap himself around Lan Zhan’s arm. He won’t lean on him too long because it’s warm out and he knows Lan Zhan doesn’t respond well to being overheated.]

Do you want to see the archery field, too? We can do that tomorrow, too.

( Flying kites, swimming, marrying and entertaining only the sweetest, most rewarding of ventures. He can enjoy such a life. And so he nods along, careful and measured, attentive to Wei Ying's needs, his tiniest of signals.

Their hands bind together, fingers curling. Lan Wangji tugs once, then allows himself to be dragged along, as if he does not concentrate the better part of their combined weight. Out of the halls, Wei Ying seems to come more and more back to himself, leaning subtly to offer Lan Wangji the comfort of his nearby weight without overly imposing it.

Wangji's mouth travels down to press on the crown of his head. He looks away. )

Will you shoot for me? ( A handsome sight. )

I think we can manage that. You’ll shoot, too?

[He squeezes Lan Zhan’s arm before he lets go so they don’t start sticking together with sweat. Hands folded behind his head as he walks, a pinnacle of leisure.

He’s been practicing, weather permitting, during some of the days while Lan Zhan pretends at being a politician —- No, his husband is far too kind and sincere for politics. —- This body feels as natural to him at as his first one by now. He’s regained that physical intuition he’d struggled with at first, so his air of confidence is genuine.]

Let’s make it interesting. How about we have a competition?

( Wei Ying's approval, the lack of tension as he gives it — he had hoped, desperately and inevitably, but he'd abandoned the possibility that his husband might return to his ways of old.

Wei Ying has clung stubbornly to his rejection of his old body's proficiencies, determined to live within the natural limitations of Mo Xuanyu's weakness. Here, now he sheds that reluctance, showing himself sincerely keen.

Lan Wangji squeezes his hand in return, allowing them a light sway for all they're under broad daylight and any disciple can stare at the open, shameless romanticism of the acting sect leader of Gusu Lan and his lovely paramour. )

And when I lose? ( Lan Wangji, after all, hasn't practised the bow in far too long. )

Don’t give up before we’ve started!

[He laughs though, bumping the side of his hip against Lan Zhan’s. In his mind, Lan Zhan is just as skilled as he’d been when they’d competed before. It’s only because of Lan Zhan’s words now that he has to wonder if maybe he’s overestimating his husband. Muscle memory should kick in even after years of neglecting practice. The lack of muscle memory in Mo Xuanyu’s body had given him a hard time when he’d started shooting again.

He lets Lan Zhan take his hand again, lifting it up to kiss it a few times. They could be observed by anyone while walking this path, but he doesn’t care about that. They’re married, so flirting outwardly like this is acceptable, though it could become shameless if they keep it up.]

Did you bring your bow? We can fit you for one after swimming if you didn’t!

[Oh, but they’re talking about prizes, aren’t they? He’s tempted to demand the shi-long seclusion after their wedding, but he doesn’t disagree that they should prioritize the kids while they’re on vacation.

He hums as he thinks it over.] You give me anything I ask for anyway, so what would I like if I win? How about… if I win, you can let us me spoil you however I want?

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