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When Wei Wuxian heard the fond murmur of “Wei Ying” behind him, his first instinct was to shamelessly launch himself at Lan Zhan, cling to those broad, sturdy shoulders, and refuse to let go.
It had been six months. Six months of wandering the countryside with Lil Apple and doing occasional nighthunts while waiting for Lan Zhan’s letters to find him. They were tucked at the bottom of his travel bag, layered in talismans to keep them safe from the rain and mud. The world was wide open before him for this second life, but no sights could compare with the elegant sweep of Lan Zhan’s calligraphy.
He didn’t expect to turn and find Lan Zhan flanked by a small army of boys in Lan robes.
So instead, Wei Wuxian just beamed. “Lan Zhan! Lan Sizhui! Lan… others!” The collected cultivators bowed to him, and Wei Wuxian gave them a cheery wave. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”
“There are reports of a spirit disturbing a local village,” Lan Zhan said. He had one hand tucked behind his back, looking as pristine as ever despite having likely flown from Gusu. Wei Wuxian wished he had seen them, the Lan juniors following Lan Zhan on their swords like a flock of geese. “Your last letter said you were in this region. I thought Wei Ying would like to aid our hunt.”
From the crowd of children, Wei Wuxian had not expected that Lan Zhan had come for a social visit, but he was still struck by a pang of disappointment. Six months, and Lan Zhan had only stumbled back on Wei Wuxian by chance. Was this their future? Joining for nighthunts when they happened upon each other?
“Would I ever!” Wei Wuxian agreed. He peered at the sea of faces behind Lan Zhan. Two familiar faces—Lan Sizhui and Lan… Jingyi! flanked him. Beyond them, there were only six other youths, but with their matching robes and headbands they all seemed identical. He was relatively sure he’d never met any of them before, though his memory wasn’t great. They looked younger than Wei Wuxian had been when he had first gone to the Cloud Recesses for training. “This is quite the crew!”
“I offered to escort this class of junior disciples on their first nighthunt away from Gusu,” Lan Zhan said. “Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi have been assisting in their training and requested to come along.”
“First nighthunt outside of Gusu, eh?” Wei Wuxian said. “I can’t believe you’re letting me help corrupt them, Lan Zhan!”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said with a sigh.
“Yeah, yeah,” Wei Wuxian said, waving a hand. “I’ll be a paragon. Nothing but the purest education from these lips. Oh, this is exciting! I remember my first time. I almost accidentally shot Jiang Cheng while I was aiming for a ghoul.”
“Shame,” Lan Zhan said dryly.
Lan Jingyi tried and failed to hide a grin, and Lan Sizhui looked gently amused.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, delighted. “You can’t be joking about me committing fratricide in front of the little ones! Now who is shameless? Anyway, come on. Tell me about this hunt and how desperately you need my help.”
It seemed a relatively easy hunt, which made it a wise choice for the juniors’ first adventure beyond the mountains of Gusu. A spirit had been causing mischief in the small village, but the local minor clan had not been able to find a source and had called to the Chief Cultivator for help. There had been no fatalities reported yet.
“Did this really need all of you?” Wei Wuxian asked as they walked into the small town. It was strange to be part of a group of Lan cultivators, all clearly respected, instead of wandering by with Lil Apple. There was a lot more bowing and averted eyes, for one. “Lan Zhan—or any cultivator worth their salt, really—could have handled it on their own. I think you’re underestimating yourselves here.”
“Someone needed to escort the new disciples,” Lan Zhan pointed out.
“There is one of you for every two of them,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ve seen Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi fight, remember? The first time I met them, Lan Sizhui was leading the group on his own.”
Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, walking directly behind them, seemed to radiate pride. Wei Wuxian glanced back to find them both smiling. He gave them a quick wink.
“We wanted to see Senior Wei!” Lan Jingyi said. “You haven’t come near Gusu in ages.”
“You little suck-up,” Wei Wuxian said fondly.
“It’s true!” Lan Jingyi said. “Hanguang-Jun mentioned he was hoping to cross paths with you, and we insisted on coming.”
Wei Wuxian glanced back at Lan Zhan, who was as impassive as ever. “Hoping, eh?”
“That is true,” Lan Sizhui admitted.
“What about Wen Ning?” Wei Wuxian asked, giving up on trying to talk over his shoulder and spinning to walk backwards. “Is he all right?”
“Oh, he wanted to come too, Senior Wei!” Lan Sizhui assured him. “He’s helping with the disciples left behind at the Cloud Recesses, though. Someone had to stay back, with Zewu-Jun still in seclusion.”
“Wen Ning is teaching Lan disciples?” Wei Wuxian asked. Lan Qiren was letting Wen Ning teach Lan disciples?
Lan Zhan snagged his sleeve and nudged him sideways so he would not run into someone while walking backward. Wei Wuxian went with the correction easily without glancing back.
“He’s a very good teacher,” Lan Sizhui said. “Very patient with everyone, and his archery skills are unmatched.”
“I taught him that,” Wei Wuxian boasted.
“Plus, he can’t get tired,” Lan Jingyi said. “He’s lucky. Teaching is exhausting.”
“Lan Jingyi,” Lan Zhan said.
“Sorry, Hanguang-Jun. Teaching the disciples is a noble calling and a vital step for the clan’s continued growth,” he said. It was clear they had had this conversation before. “Senior Wei, maybe you should watch where you’re walking?”
“Why?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I want to talk to you guys, and Lan Zhan won’t let me fall.”
“Mm,” Lan Zhan agreed.
They bought rooms at a local inn—Lan Zhan insisted on paying for an additional room for Wei Wuxian, despite his protests. “I can pay for myself,” Wei Wuxian said. It was true, if just barely. His purse was light these days.
“You are a guest of the Lan,” Lan Zhan said.
Wei Wuxian shrugged and went along with it. The inn was nicer than anything Wei Wuxian would have picked even if he were inclined to pay for a place to sleep. He tended to sleep in a tent where he was guaranteed an easy escape. With Lan Zhan footing the bill, there might even be dinner and a bath involved, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t resist that chance.
They settled in their rooms for an hour. The young disciples had been instructed to meditate to recover after the long flight. If Wei Wuxian had been one of them, he would have been staying up to gossip or sneak into town, but he thought if he glanced in he would find all six juniors meditating silently.
Wei Wuxian was flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had been excited at the prospect of a free bed, but he could not think about napping.
Lan Zhan was in the room next door.
Wei Wuxian had heard him unpacking, but it had been silent for the past half-hour. Was Lan Zhan also meditating? Could Wei Wuxian interrupt him? Or would that just remind Lan Zhan exactly why he hadn’t wanted Wei Wuxian with him at the Cloud Recesses?
Wei Wuxian huffed and sat up. Whatever. Lan Zhan had been the one to find him. He could either put up with Wei Wuxian or tell him to leave.
He opened Lan Zhan’s door without knocking. Lan Zhan was sitting cross-legged on a mat, his eyes closed. Yep, meditating. Lans were so predictable.
“Getting old there, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked, strolling into the room. “The kids aren’t used to long flights, but I remember a time you could have flown all day and night without blinking.”
“It is good to recenter between travel and beginning a nighthunt,” Lan Zhan said, opening his eyes but staying seated.
He didn’t tell Wei Wuxian to leave, so he sprawled out on the wooden floor beside the mat. He tipped up his chin to look up at the impossibly beautiful lines of Lan Zhan’s face. No person should be so lovely at every angle.
Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi had tagged along to visit with Wei Wuxian. They had known they would find him on this trip. Had Lan Zhan picked this nighthunt because it was near Wei Wuxian’s last location, or had that been only a coincidence?
This was Lan Zhan. He didn’t need an excuse to come find Wei Wuxian. He had to know he could have shown up empty-handed and alone and Wei Wuxian would only have invited him to share his tent.
The letters had suggested that Lan Zhan had missed him. Only, it seemed impossible that Lan Zhan had missed him as much as he had missed Lan Zhan.
“Is Wen Ning really doing all right at the Cloud Recesses?” he asked instead of voicing any of that.
“He is.”
“Good,” Wei Wuxian said. “I wasn’t sure… You know, the Lan Clan isn’t fond of demonic cultivation. I didn’t know how they’d feel about a fierce corpse.”
“He is Lan Sizhui’s cousin and a good man,” Lan Zhan said. “He is welcome in Gusu.”
“There’s a difference between welcome and welcome.”
“The Lan Clan would not scorn a guest,” he said. “Wen Ning has my personal protection, and though my brother is in seclusion, he is still the clan leader. He would want hospitality shown to our guests. If Wen Ning chose to join the Lan Clan, he would be welcomed as well.”
“Join the Lan Clan?” Wei Wuxian repeated, stunned.
“If he wanted,” Lan Zhan said.
People joined clans. It was not unusual. He had watched Jin Guangyao alone move from the Nie Clan to the Wen Clan to the Jin Clan in the space of a year. Still, it was strange to imagine Wen Ning taking the vows of the Lan Clan. Agreeing to follow the thousands of rules. Accepting a forehead ribbon.
Wen Ning had fought with Wei Qing and Wei Wuxian to protect the last members of the Wen Clan. For so long, their only dream had been to preserve the last remnants of their clan. Now, Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui were the only ones left, and one had already accepted the Lan robes. Could Wei Wuxian blame Wen Ning for following suit?
“Traitor,” he declared, closing his eyes and basking in Lan Zhan’s presence beside him. Without his golden core, he was not as skilled at feeling the presence of other cultivators, but he always knew when Lan Zhan was near. “He and I were meant to be rogue cultivators, wandering the world and striking fear into hearts with our black robes and impressive skills.”
“You have spent the past six months aiding those in need, according to your letters. Additionally, your black robe has begun to turn gray,” Lan Zhan commented mildly.
Wei Wuxian huffed. “Are you saying I’m not scary? You try keeping something clean when it’s one of two you own. Better gray than covered in blood or mud or whatever else it’s gone through.”
Lan Zhan was silent for a long moment. “Do you need new robes?”
Wei Wuxian opened one eye and looked up at him. “No,” he said, pointing a finger. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I offered to send you money,” Lan Zhan said. His tone was mild, but Wei Wuxian had been lectured by him enough to recognize when he was doing it. “You said you did not need it.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You’re thin. Your boots and robes are worn,” Lan Zhan said. Sadness pinched at the sides of his eyes.
There had been a time Wei Wuxian had found Lan Zhan difficult to read. In school, he had held his truth close to his chest, masking his emotions with ice and anger. Wei Wuxian had spent years studying every shift in Lan Zhan’s expressions. Lan Zhan was still stoic, but softer now than he had been in Wei Wuxian’s first life. Beyond Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen, he was likely still considered difficult to read, but he no longer seemed interested in masking his emotions.
Part of Wei Wuxian wished he would—he could not handle this concern, this distress, directed at him.
Wei Wuxian pushed himself to his feet. “I’m exploring! Traveling light. Living off the land. Having the adventures I always wanted. Money? Who needs it. Don’t try to tie me down with your fancy gold. My purses would be too heavy for Lil Apple to carry me.”
“I have never wanted to tie you down,” Lan Zhan said quietly.
Wei Wuxian wanted Lan Zhan to tie him up, tie him down, hold him tight and never let him go. He wanted every piece of Lan Zhan with an intensity, a greed, that scared him. If Lan Zhan knew his thoughts, they would scare him too.
It would be like Wei Wuxian’s Binding spell all over again. Wei Wuxian holding tight, desperate for some of Lan Zhan’s attention, while Lan Zhan patiently waited for it to end.
Lan Zhan did not want to be tied to Wei Wuxian.
“Yeah, we’ll save the tying for whatever’s haunting this town,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s going to get dark soon and we still need to ask around for more details. It’s got to be time to head out, right? How much rest do those kids of yours need?”
Lan Zhan glanced out the window, and nodded. “We will depart,” he said.
Wei Wuxian clapped his hands. “All right! Let’s go. This should be easy.”
#
In Wei Wuxian’s defense, it seemed easy all the way up until it wasn’t.
The reports in the village were of a mixed bag of curses, all of which faded over time. The villagers had seemed embarrassed by the curses, but between Wei Wuxian’s prodding and Lan Zhan’s stoic patience, everyone had spilled information soon enough.
One boy had ended up with his hands clasped behind his back, unable to move them for two days. One young girl had screeched for five days straight, at the end of which she was coughing blood.
One man had been turned into a dog for a week, which Wei Wuxian thought the worst fate of the lot.
There was a hint of irony to all the afflictions: the first boy had been a bully, the young girl notoriously shy, and the man had recently given up his wife’s favorite puppy for adoption without warning. The spirit or curse had a sense of humor, it seemed.
The problem with this type of mischief was that it rarely stayed benign for long. Spirits often gained power in interacting with humans—the curses were already lasting longer each time.
Before long, they tracked the spiritual disturbance to a cave to the south of the village. It seemed as though everyone who had encountered the spirit had done so in this area of the forest, and as they approached, Wei Wuxian could feel resentful energy in the air.
“What’s the plan?” Wei Wuxian asked Lan Zhan quietly as they neared the mouth of the cave. “Let the kids go in on their own and see what happens?”
Lan Zhan stared at him. “I would not send first-time cultivators into a cave with only one known exit alone.”
“I was kidding. We both know what it’s like to get stuck in a cave!” Wei Wuxian said. “There’s probably not a horrific monster waiting somewhere under this one, but you never know! Caves attract all sorts of weird shit.”
He stopped and turned to the pale faces of the young Lan cultivators. Though they had all meditated, they looked unbalanced, nervous. It was cute to know that even the Lan had first-time jitters. “Juniors!” he called. “Listen to your Senior Wei. There’s something in this cave that has been causing trouble. What’s your plan of action?”
There was a long silence. Finally, one of the boys looked between Lan Sizhui and Lan Zhan and volunteered, “To follow orders, Senior Wei.”
Wei Wuxian blew a raspberry. “And what if your teachers weren’t here? You’re supposed to be learning how to be cultivators, and let me tell you, a lot of it happens on the fly. It’s good to know what should happen, not just hope someone will be there to help. So, what is your plan?”
The boy looked at Lan Zhan nervously.
Wei Wuxian waited for Lan Zhan to take over, but Lan Zhan only nodded. “You should listen to your senior’s lesson. Wei Ying is a talented fighter and strategist, and is seeking to understand your skillset.”
“So, anyone know what should come next?” Wei Wuxian prompted.
The only thing Lan kids hated more than having to offer up their own ideas was to disobey direct orders from their Hanguang-Jun.
“Senior Wei, will we set out spirit-attraction flags?” suggested another boy quietly.
“Ding ding ding!” Wei Wuxian said, pointing at him. “We don’t rush into danger. We bring danger to us, where we have more control of the situation!”
As the younger Lans set up the array of flags, Lan Sizhui approached Wei Wuxian’s side where he had settled himself on the far end of the clearing. “You’re a good teacher, Senior Wei. These juniors are fortunate that you are here.”
“I don’t even need to force-feed anyone congee this time!” Wei Wuxian said.
“We told you that Wen Ning has been teaching at the Cloud Recesses.”
“Right! Those are big shoes I’m filling. I’m not as nice as he is, but I’m sure I can whip these kids into line more quickly!”
“He is very kind,” Lan Sizhui said, smiling. “I am fortunate to have a cousin like him in my life. And for the Lan Clan, he has been very useful. Everyone is grateful for his presence. It is always valuable to learn from as many sources as possible. I’m glad he was able to come to Gusu.”
“Lan Sizhui.” Lan Zhan had approached them silently, and his voice was difficult to read.
“Hanguang-Jun,” Lan Sizhui said, bowing slightly. “I’ll go monitor the juniors.”
Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Zhan as Lan Sizhui walked away. “Your son is always so formal! I know he did not get that from me.”
“We are on clan business,” Lan Zhan reminded him.
Wei Wuxian scoffed. “Oh, you would have hated being on my first nighthunt. Jiang Cheng and I gave each other so much shit. It was a miracle we managed to kill the ghoul and not each other.”
“The arrow.”
“Well, yes, but that part was an accident,” Wei Wuxian reminded him. “We were still figuring out how to be clan members and brothers at the same time. We still haven’t really figured that one out, I guess. Not that there’s anything to work out. It’s only been about a year for me, but in real time it’s been more than a decade since I was a member of the Jiang Clan.” He sighed, looking out over the studious boys in white robes. “I’m so gone from their memory by now I bet you can’t even find where I was burned out of the record books.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said.
If it hadn’t been so dark, Wei Wuxian was sure he’d have seen that mournful tightness around Lan Zhan’s eyes.
“It’s not a big deal,” Wei Wuxian said. “Looks like the flags are ready.” He tilted his head. “Fuck.”
Though he had caught the rush of resentful magic before everyone else, the trio of wind demons whipping into the clearing were unmissable.
“That’s the problem with the spirit-attraction flags,” Wei Wuxian commented, shaking his head. “Sometimes they can bring in more than you’re expecting.”
To their credit, the Lan juniors worked together like a dance. They had clearly all been training for this moment their entire lives. They turned away from the cave to greet the wind demons. The swirling tornadoes of dark energy split up around the clearing, targeting the youths who had accidentally summoned them.
“Not quite as easy as the spirit we were expecting, but not the worst first nighthunt,” Wei Wuxian said to Lan Zhan. “You think they can handle it?”
Lan Zhan only nodded.
“Eh, you’re right. They won’t be able to brag to their friends back in Gusu if we do all the work for them,” Wei Wuxian said. “Plus, with Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, they’re not going to get hurt.”
He watched the fight. The kids were slightly stiff with their swords—they would need years more to build the kind of muscle that made wielding a sword effortless—but they knew what they were doing.
At his side, Lan Zhan was quiet and tense, prepared to interfere if needed.
“This is driving you crazy,” Wei Wuxian said. He gave Lan Zhan a light nudge with his elbow. “Go on, help them out. It’ll do them good to see you fighting with them.”
“I do not wish them to think I do not believe in their abilities,” Lan Zhan said.
One of the scrawnier kids got hit by a gust of wind and tumbled backwards across the clearing. His white robes were grass-stained by the time he found his feet, though he seemed fine otherwise.
Wei Wuxian winced and nudged Lan Zhan again. “I’ll keep an eye from back here. Seriously, getting to say they fought beside Hanguang-Jun? You’ll make their year.”
That was the last push Lan Zhan needed. He flew across the clearing to land beside a trio of his juniors, the only group not already protected by Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. Wei Wuxian idled closer, but did not join the fight. They did not need him, and it was a gift to watch Lan cultivators at work.
His first day alive again, Wei Wuxian had gotten to see Lan Sizhui lead the other juniors at Mo House. They always fought in perfect sync. Maybe there was some benefit to all their rules after all. They certainly never had to deal with disciples like Wei Wuxian haring off on their own halfway through a fight.
When the spirit came rushing out of the cave, smoky maw open in a silent scream, it took them all by surprise. With the wind demons in their midst, everyone had forgotten the original point of their mission.
It was a single spirit, a corrupted soul with only a weak pulse of resentful energy. Weak, but incensed.
And its eyes were locked on Lan Sizhui, and a gnarled hand was outstretched. Dark energy swirled like a storm over its palm.
Wei Wuxian did not hesitate.
He pulled out his flute, flew across the clearing, and landed directly between the spirit and Lan Sizhui. The spirit unleashed the curse in its hand, and it collided with Wei Wuxian’s chest. It was cold and ached like a broken tooth, but Wei Wuxian had had much worse.
He took a quick breath to dispel the shock from the curse hitting his chest, and then played a quick burst of music.
The spirit stilled, falling under his control. As expected, this spirit was no match for Wei Wuxian.
Behind him, he felt Lan Sizhui moving, fighting one of the wind demons. Wei Wuxian did not turn to look—Lan Sizhui would make sure Wei Wuxian had the room to work. After traveling alone for so many months, it was pleasant to have competent people at his back again.
Wei Wuxian played a song to exorcise the spirit, perhaps using a method more brusque than usual. His music was a scalpel, not a hammer, but this was not the time for delicacy. His chest ached, and the young Lan cultivators were still fighting behind him. It was time to end this.
As Wei Wuxian played, the spirit’s face grew angry, and then despondent. Finally, it dissipated into nothing more than smoke, and faded on the breeze. Wei Wuxian played until the last hint of its resentful energy was settled, and then turned to the rest of the clearing.
He watched Lan Jingyi encourage one of the juniors to strike the final blow in the last wind demon, making it lose its form and vanish. Wei Wuxian tilted his head, searching the clearing for any other signs of resentful energy. The coast seemed clear, and he lowered his flute with a sigh.
The motion made the cold spot in his chest ache, and he reached up to rub at it.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, appearing at his side. He was as pristine as ever, but he was still coiled from the battle. Fighting always made Lan Zhan seem colder, stronger. He fought like a statue come to life, impeccably focused.
Wei Wuxian preferred him soft and unwound, staring at the stars or walking through a market.
“The spirit hit him with something,” Lan Sizhui said, his ubiquitous smile replaced by worry. “I didn’t realize until it was too late. I’m sorry.”
“Are you hurt?” Lan Zhan demanded.
Wei Wuxian grinned and waved a dismissive hand. “Yes.”
That… had not been what he had tried to say.
Lan Zhan’s expression grew more intense, and he pressed close to Wei Wuxian, searching him for injuries. “Where? What happened?”
It’s nothing. “My chest aches, and I feel cold.” Panic started to set in. His tongue was not cooperating with him. His mouth felt cold—a side-effect of the curse? “I’ve had worse. I doubt it will kill me. I don’t want you to worry.” Not quite what he hoped to say, but close enough.
Lan Zhan’s intensity did not ease. “We can examine you back at the inn. We will have light there, and other supplies. Can you hold on until then?”
“I said I didn’t think it would kill me,” Wei Wuxian complained.
“You do not report minor injuries,” Lan Zhan said, still looking concerned.
Wei Wuxian bit his tongue on his immediate flippant response. Carefully, he said, “I am now.”
Lan Zhan searched his face. This was the flaw in having someone know you as well as Lan Zhan knew him. It was just like when Lan Zhan had realized he had taken the curse from Jin Ling. One look, and he could see Wei Wuxian was keeping secrets. “Are there any other side-effects?”
“I…” The curse did not compel him to finish his sentence, and he was helplessly grateful for that. He could not control his words, but he could control his tongue.
“Wei Ying.”
The curse would not force Wei Wuxian to speak, but the unflappable Hanguang-Jun would. “I believe,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, feeling out each word to be sure it was a conscious choice, “that I have been cursed to tell only the truth.”
There was a moment of silence from the hovering Lan cultivators.
Lan Zhan seemed to be absorbing the information. He looked Wei Wuxian over again as though confirming there were no big bloody injuries he had missed earlier. “Is there any cause for immediate alarm?” he finally asked.
“Not that I can tell,” Wei Wuxian said. “The spirit was not powerful. I already banished it, so there should be no unexpected additional effects. I have not encountered this particular curse before, but like I said—I’ve had far worse. I’m not comfortable or happy, but I do not believe this will be the cause of my second death.”
Lan Zhan nodded once. “You’ll fly with me back to the inn and we will decide our course of action from there.” He glanced around the group. “You will follow with the spirit-summoning flags once you have cleared this area. Lan Sizhui, I am leaving you in control. Be sure everything is done correctly, and then fly carefully. Check in with me when you are back at the inn, or send a flare if there is a problem.”
The sea of white-robed youths nodded and dispersed to clean the clearing.
“This is probably the best-case scenario, isn’t it?” Lan Jingyi commented to Lan Sizhui in a hushed voice. He was the only Lan Wei Wuxian had ever met incapable of whispering, even when he was clearly trying. “It’ll be just like usual. Senior Wei already speaks his mind. Can you imagine Hanguang-Jun getting hit with something like this?”
“Lan Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui scolded.
Lan Jingyi seemed to notice that Lan Zhan had turned an icy stare his way. “Not that it’s good for Senior Wei—or anyone!—to get cursed,” he said quickly.
Lan Zhan hummed and turned back to Wei Wuxian. “Let’s go.”
#
The flight was swift. In another situation, Wei Wuxian might have appreciated Lan Zhan’s iron grip around his waist, holding him in place on Bichen, but his attention was snared by the curse.
He knew there were far worse afflictions. This was better than being turned in a dog, at least, and at least he wasn’t dead. But to tell the truth—only the truth—was anathema to Wei Wuxian. There were secrets he wanted to keep, both big and small. He was used to being able to trust his mouth to run on its own, weaving a dance around any situation.
During the flight, trusting the wind to catch his words, he tried to speak small lies. His name, the color of his robes, his opinions—all twisted on his tongue into the truth. Eventually, he closed his mouth and tucked his face into Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
Wei Wuxian’s hands were stiff and cold by the time they landed back in the village, echoing the lingering ache from the curse in his chest.
“Are you well?” Lan Zhan asked, helping him to the dirt road and sheathing Bichen.
Wei Wuxian gave him a tired smile. “My hands are stiff and cold, and my chest still hurts.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s not what I wanted to say.”
Lan Zhan waited patiently, looking at him seriously.
Wei Wuxian ran his next words carefully through his head, and then said, “I’m alive and I don’t want you to think you need to worry about me.”
“Do I need to worry about you?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Wei Wuxian said, “That depends on your definition of a lot of things.”
Lan Zhan only nodded. “Let’s go inside. I’ll have a hot bath ordered up to your room.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian protested, but stopped himself from continuing. He did want a bath. This curse would not even let him complain about Lan Zhan spoiling him. It was an established part of their relationship! Less than an hour in and he was ready for this curse to end.
“You are cold,” Lan Zhan reminded him, and ushered him inside. He instructed the innkeeper to send up hot water, and then looked at Wei Wuxian. “Are you hungry?”
“We ate before we left,” Wei Wuxian reminded him. They had had a small, bland meal, just as the Lan principles suggested. Heavens forbid someone eat something substantial before going on a nighthunt.
Lan Zhan didn’t flinch. “Are you hungry?”
Wei Wuxian sighed. “Yes.”
Lan Zhan added an order for another dinner, rattling off a list of Wei Wuxian’s favorites, and then guided him upstairs.
If Wei Wuxian had thought he’d find peace in his room, he was mistaken. Lan Zhan followed him in and shut the door behind him. “I’m alive,” Wei Wuxian reminded him.
“You keep saying that,” Lan Zhan said stiffly. “It is less than comforting.”
“The curse isn’t letting me say what I plan on saying. I’m trying to say that I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian said. “But…”
“But that would not be the truth,” Lan Zhan finished.
Wei Wuxian did not want to continue that line of conversation. “If this curse weren’t happening to me, I’d be fascinated,” he commented, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. It did not help the chill or the ache. “How does it know the truth? Is there an objective truth, or does it only know what I believe? It’s interesting. Unique. If our roles were reversed, I’d be”— interrogating you to understand it—“worried about you.”
“Wei Ying.”
“I didn’t mean to say that.”
“I am worried,” Lan Zhan said. “You seem…discomfited.”
Wei Wuxian rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I don’t like this.”
Lan Zhan hesitated, hands behind his back. “Do you want me to leave?”
Yes. “No.”
There was a knock on the door. It was the food, along with the promise that the bath water would be up shortly. It smelled fantastic—he could tell by looking that it didn’t have as many spices as what he used to love from Yunmeng, but there was more seasoning than anything the Lan Clan would normally order.
Wei Wuxian fell on the food eagerly. He was starving, and eating had the side-benefit of keeping his mouth busy. Lan Zhan and his clan may not have spoken during meals as a rule, but Wei Wuxian had never been good at staying quiet.
Instead, he ate the spicy chicken and rice under Lan Zhan’s watchful eye and focused on eating rather than talking. After a moment’s hesitation, he drank the rice wine Lan Zhan had ordered as well. The alcohol, at least, could probably not make the situation worse, and if he was going to be stuck telling the truth, he might as well have some wine.
Finally, though, he ran out of food and leaned back, putting his hands on his stomach. Words kept betraying him, so he just groaned with satisfaction.
Lan Zhan, who had sat across from him silently throughout the meal, said, “I should have ordered more before.”
“Hm?”
“When we had dinner. You were still hungry.” Lan Zhan nodded to the empty plates between them. “You should have said.”
“It’s not polite to complain about free food,” Wei Wuxian pointed out.
Lan Zhan’s expression was tight. “You should have said.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be upset. My being hungry is not an insult against you. It’s been weeks since I had a meal this good, and the curse drained my energy. I don’t feel as cold as before,” he added, rubbing his chest.
“Weeks? You’re truly not eating well,” Lan Zhan said, a small frown tugging his lips down.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian thought over his possible responses. How could he explain? Rogue cultivation was not lucrative, especially not the way Wei Wuxian did it. “I have other priorities.”
“You said before that you did not need money.”
“I did say that.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said.
“Lan Zhan.”
“If you have been going hungry…”
“I appreciate you worrying about me.” He appreciated it more than he could say. To have Lan Zhan staring at him, caring—it was more than he’d ever dreamed he’d get. But he certainly wasn’t saying that. “But I’ve skipped a meal or two before. Nothing has come close to being as difficult as the Burial Mounds—either time. I’ve lived lean when I’ve had to. You’ll remember that wasn’t what killed me.”
“I care about more than simply keeping you alive,” Lan Zhan said. “You told me you were finding nighthunts.”
“The people I help usually need the money more than I do,” Wei Wuxian said. “How am I supposed to charge them for needing help? They are desperate, Lan Zhan. I… I would not be happy taking more from them than I need to stay alive.”
“I have money,” Lan Zhan said. “You could have asked me.”
“I don’t need the Lan Clan to fund me.”
“It is not the Lan Clan. It is me,” Lan Zhan said. “I want to help you.”
“Lan Zhan. Please. I want you to keep caring. It means so much to me.” Wei Wuxian winced. “No, that’s not what I… Lan Zhan.” I need to shut up. This earnestness is killing me. “I want to keep talking. I want you to care about me. To care about what I say.”
“I do,” Lan Zhan said.
Wei Wuxian groaned, running a hand down his face. “Lan Zhan. I can’t… I want… God, this is uncomfortable.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan, a new urgency in his voice. “Stop talking. You look like you’re in pain. Does speaking…” He trailed off, but the direction of his thoughts was clear.
“Hurt me? No. No, Lan Zhan, there’s no pain.” Wei Wuxian didn’t need to cause any more distress tonight. He had done enough already. When Lan Zhan’s expression did not ease, he sighed. “It’s just… This is embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing. I don’t like to burden people—especially not you. I want to want nothing.”
“You are not a burden,” Lan Zhan said tightly.
“I keep saying more than I mean to,” Wei Wuxian complained. “I open my mouth to say one thing, and then the truth comes out instead. I want... I want to want to stop telling you so much.” Wei Wuxian felt flushed.
“You want to not have wants. You want me to care for you, but you are ashamed to allow it,” Lan Zhan said, and there was sadness in his voice. He nodded to himself. “Answer with a single word. Your tongue will be less likely to betray you.”
Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah, Lan Zhan, is that why you are often so quiet?”
“Yes.”
Wei Wuxian laughed again, delighted. He opened his mouth to tease him, but snapped his teeth closed. One-word answers. He could do this.
(At least he could still lie to himself.)
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“Are you experiencing any increase in pain or other symptoms?”
“No.”
“Will you tell me if you do?”
“No.” Wei Wuxian winced.
Lan Zhan sighed.
“You’re already so worried, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. “If it weren’t for this curse, I would never even have told you that.”
“I am not angry with you for telling the truth. Only disappointed that you do not trust me.”
“I do trust you,” Wei Wuxian declared. “I’m sorry. It’s only… I hate when you’re scared or sad. I wish you could always be happy. I like when you’re happy. Especially because of me. I feel like I make you sad more than I make you happy.”
“Your presence always makes me happy,” Lan Zhan said simply, as though it could be that easy. As though Wei Wuxian’s presence had not brought trouble since he was born. “One-word answers, Wei Ying. You do not need to explain yourself to me.”
Wei Wuxian nodded once, but was spared answering another question by a knock at the door.
It was Lan Sizhui, along with the inn staff with their buckets of water. While the staff filled the tub, Lan Sizhui gave Lan Zhan a murmured update. Lan Sizhui seemed tense, but Lan Zhan was not, so Wei Wuxian assumed nothing else had gone wrong with ending the nighthunt.
Lan Sizhui glanced over Lan Zhan’s shoulder at Wei Wuxian, who waved but did not try to speak. The boy already looked worried, and Wei Wuxian doubted he could say anything that would not make that worse.
Finally, Lan Sizhui and the staff bowed and took their leave.
Lan Zhan tested the water with the tips of his fingers, and then drew a quick talisman. The paper latched to the edge of the tub, and the water inside began gently steaming.
“You were cold,” Lan Zhan said as explanation.
Wei Wuxian nodded. The food had helped some with the ache in his chest, but it still lingered. If you cracked open his ribs, he thought you might find a layer of frost. It had been months since his last truly warm bath—he knew he was staring covetously at the tub, but couldn’t help it.
“Do you want me to help you bathe?” Lan Zhan asked.
Wei Wuxian felt his face flush. He was probably a brighter red than his now-faded underrobe. “Yes,” he said. He swallowed. “But I could do it on my own.”
“Wei Ying is capable of many things,” Lan Zhan said mildly, and then turned around. “Get in, and then I will help.”
Wei Wuxian took down his hair, undressed, and carefully slid into the tub. The water was pleasantly hot, just on the edge of too much. He ducked his head under the water, letting it embrace him.
He had always loved water. No one could grow up at Lotus Pier without spending most of their summers swimming. It had been too long since he had washed with more than a cloth and lukewarm bucket or a quick rinse in a stream.
Lan Zhan turned and kneeled beside the tub. “What do you want?” he asked.
What didn’t Wei Wuxian want? How could he answer that without humiliating himself?
“Yes or no questions,” Lan Zhan murmured to himself. He picked up a cloth and a jar of body wash. “Clean yourself. I will shampoo your hair.”
Lan Zhan sitting beside him, his hands in Wei Wuxian’s hair… It was a heady thought. “You don’t have to,” he said.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian breathed.
Scrubbing his skin with the cloth and wash gave Wei Wuxian something to focus on as Lan Zhan settled behind him. The wash smelled pleasantly of cedar, and frothed easily under his hands. He could only imagine how he smelled after so long on the road with Lil Apple. He was going to rub his skin red tonight to take advantage of the bath.
Maybe if he focused enough on washing himself, he could get through this experience without embarrassing himself.
When Lan Zhan’s hands found Wei Wuxian’s head, he stilled. His breath hitched. Lan Zhan’s fingers, coated in a shampoo that smelled of the same cedar as the body wash, were firm and confident. He began to rub the shampoo into Wei Wuxian’s scalp, rubbing the tips of his fingers in small circles.
Wei Wuxian let out a small sigh.
“Does that feel all right?”
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said, pressing back against Lan Zhan’s hands.
Lan Zhan washed his hair with quiet patience, as thorough and determined as he was in everything. If he felt awkward about the scenario, he did not express it.
Idly, Wei Wuxian rubbed the cloth over his arms, but his attention was entirely on Lan Zhan. The pressure against his scalp alleviated a headache he hadn’t even realized he’d had, and made his muscles relax.
On another day, Wei Wuxian would have filled the silence with chatter, but his job for the evening was to only answer questions. Lan Zhan did not seem compelled to speak either, so the only sound in the room was the quiet lapping of the water.
Wei Wuxian melted into Lan Zhan’s hands. Lan Zhan held him easily, careful to keep Wei Wuxian’s face from going under even when he dipped him to rinse his hair.
Finally, Lan Zhan clasped Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and then removed his hands. He leaned away from the tub, though did not leave. “Do you still feel stable?”
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian purred.
“There have been no new side-effects from the curse?”
“No.”
“There are towels here,” Lan Zhan said. “Come out when you’re ready. Unless you would prefer I renew the heating talisman for a longer soak?”
“No, I’ll get out now,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’m exhausted.” He stood, wincing when the colder room air hit his wet skin. Lan Zhan had turned away, though he had not moved further into the room, so Wei Wuxian dried himself off and then dressed in his second underrobe quickly. At least it was relatively clean after he’d washed it in a stream earlier that week. His pack did not have room for a separate set of sleeping robes, and camping on the road meant he would rarely have been comfortable in anything not battle-ready.
“I’m dressed,” he told Lan Zhan as he began to braid his wet hair over his shoulder.
Lan Zhan turned and examined Wei Wuxian’s robes with a critical eye. “Would you like to borrow one of my robes?”
Wei Wuxian opened his mouth, and then closed it. Yes, yes, of course he would like that. To be wrapped up in Lan white, to have that sandalwood scent surrounding him, to feel like Lan Zhan was taking care of him.
“I usually sleep in this,” Wei Wuxian said.
Lan Zhan’s expression did not change, but Wei Wuxian knew he had noticed the prevarication. “You are tired. You should sleep,” he said instead.
Wei Wuxian nodded.
Lan Zhan stood there, gaze intent on Wei Wuxian’s face. He did not make a move to return to his own room. “May I spend the night?” he asked. “I want to be sure Wei Ying is all right. We still do not know much about this curse.”
Wei Wuxian had already taken enough advantage of Lan Zhan’s concern, but he could not resist saying, “Yes.”
Lan Zhan nodded. “I will sleep on the floor. You will wake me if your symptoms change.”
“The bed is big enough for two,” Wei Wuxian blurted.
For a long moment, Lan Zhan only looked at him. Then he asked, “Do you want me to share the bed with you?”
Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, feeling his face heat. Would Lan Zhan make him bare his heart so explicitly? Wei Wuxian had built a life off of speaking with room for plausible deniability. How could Wei Wuxian accept tonight’s blunt honesty? “I think you’re finding it easier to talk to me when I’m cursed,” he said.
“I am not pleased you are cursed,” Lan Zhan said, voice curt. “I am worried for Wei Ying. However…” He lifted his chin. “It is a rare thing to know the truth of Wei Ying’s feelings. You are an accommodating person. I do not wish to overstep. Questions and answers help.”
“You were never so eager to talk when we were studying at Cloud Recesses.”
“You are upset. Do you want me to leave?” Lan Zhan asked again.
“No,” Wei Wuxian snapped, frustrated. “No,” he repeated more quietly.
Lan Zhan nodded. He did not speak again, only untied the front of his outer robe. When Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, Lan Zhan tilted a head to the bed. Right. Sleep. Even Lan Zhan could not sleep in six layers.
Wei Wuxian busied himself setting up talismans on the door and windows to allow access only to the Lan cultivators. It was overkill—the Lan juniors would have done the same to the outside. Even with their leader caring for Wei Wuxian, Lan Sizhui would not have skipped over ensuring their group’s security. The inn would be the safest place in the region that night.
Once the rustling stopped, Wei Wuxian looked back to find Lan Zhan in only his own thin inner robes. His forehead ribbon was still in place, but he had taken down his ornate headpiece. He looked smaller without it, younger and more vulnerable. Still, he held himself with the same composure and confidence he had shown every day since Wei Wuxian had returned.
Gone was the easily flustered Lan Zhan of their Cloud Recesses days. When they had been forced to undress to this level in the cave, Lan Zhan had been tense and uneasy. He had watched Wei Wuxian’s every movement as though afraid his Lan whites would be sullied just by thinking of impropriety.
This Lan Zhan only gestured for Wei Wuxian to join him in bed.
Wei Wuxian opened his mouth, but closed it again. He slipped under the sheets, and Lan Zhan joined him. With a gesture, Lan Zhan extinguished the candles around the room, leaving them in darkness.
The bed was not very large. Wei Wuxian could feel Lan Zhan’s body heat, though they were not touching. He held his own breath so he could listen to the steady rhythm of Lan Zhan’s breathing. Despite the strangeness of the situation, it was as measured as ever. Was his heart beating any quicker? Or was it only Wei Wuxian’s?
Lan Zhan was not the type of toss and turn. He was very still. Wei Wuxian should not have been so aware of his presence, but he was right there.
The man he had loved since he was a teenager. The man who had saved him again and again. The man who had took his side against the rest of the world. The man who wrote beautiful letters that Wei Wuxian read over and over. The man he had longed for, dreamed about, aspired to impress.
The man who had let him walk away.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, but there was nothing else he could say. If he opened his mouth again, who knew what horrible truth would come from his lips?
They stayed in silence for a long moment.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan returned finally. “Sleep.”
Against all odds, Wei Wuxian did.
#
He woke up once in the night.
Lan Zhan had not moved, but Wei Wuxian had rolled over and plastered himself across his chest. He was using Lan Zhan’s chest as a pillow, one arm thrown over his waist. If he had ever thought that Lan Zhan was a statue, pure untouchable jade, the warm skin against his proved that wrong.
Lan Zhan was as human as Wei Wuxian, and he smelled of pine and sandalwood.
He had been wrong in his initial assessment. Lan Zhan was still on his half of the bed, stoicly on his back. But one of his arms had wrapped around Wei Wuxian, a broad palm pressed against his ribs. Holding him in place.
Perhaps in the morning Wei Wuxian would feel embarrassed by all of this—or Lan Zhan would. Let future Wei deal with that. For now, he only snuggled into Lan Zhan’s side and let sleep wash over him again.
#
When he woke up in the morning, he was alone in the bed. He blinked and sat up. Lan Zhan was at the door, speaking quietly to someone, and breakfast was laid out on the small table. Lan Zhan nodded to their visitor, and came back inside.
Wei Wuxian yawned widely and gave him a small wave in greeting. Had he imagined waking up on top of Lan Zhan last night? The other man seemed more composed than he’d expect from someone who might have woken up to Wei Wuxian clinging to them. Lan Zhan must have been up for some time—he was dressed once again, and his hair was swept back in place. The Lan Clan was incapable of sleeping in, even when it was well-deserved.
“Wei Ying,” he said. “How is your chest?”
Wei Wuxian rubbed at his chest where the curse’s dark chill had resided last night. “The cold is mostly gone. It’s faded to almost nothing. I have no more pain, other than my neck.”
Ah. Damn it.
Looking at Lan Zhan standing there looking so beautiful in the morning light, Wei Wuxian had almost forgotten why they had shared a bed in the first place.
Lan Zhan, of course, latched onto Wei Wuxian’s admission. “Your neck?”
“I wrenched it fighting a tree imp last week,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ve been waking up sore ever since. It’s not the worst injury I’ve had. I’m alive.”
Lan Zhan tilted his head. “It would seem the curse is still in effect.”
Wei Wuxian flashed him a tight smile. “You know me so well.”
With a decisive nod, Lan Zhan said, “You should return to one-word answers. The victims we spoke to in town experienced a wide range of durations—from hours to weeks. With the spirit exorcised, the curse should run its course in time, but it is difficult to estimate when that will be.”
Wei Wuxian nodded. He had thought the same, though he hoped he wasn’t stuck this way for a whole week like the poor bastard who had been turned into a dog.
“The nighthunt has been completed,” Lan Zhan continued. “The juniors should return to Gusu.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Yes?” Wei Wuxian said finally.
“I can afford to rent this room until you are well again.”
“Lan Zhan. That costs money,” Wei Wuxian said. He resisted saying more, but made his tone as scolding as possible.
“It is wise to exercise caution while cursed. Unknown side effects are still possible. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi can escort the juniors home,” Lan Zhan said.
“You… You don’t have to stay with me,” Wei Wuxian said.
“I would not leave you alone like this,” Lan Zhan said.
“That is not necessary, Lan Zhan. This is a mild curse, and you’re an important man.”
“You are vulnerable.”
Would anyone else be able to take as much advantage of Wei Wuxian’s state as Lan Zhan had? He was not forced by the curse to answer questions, even if he was bound to honesty. If not for his inability to hold his tongue around Lan Zhan, he could have gotten through the whole mess with none the wiser. With only Lil Apple as his companion on the road, the curse would likely fade without causing undue issues. “I’ve handled far worse on my own,” he reminded him.
“I am aware,” Lan Zhan said stiffly. “One-word answers, Wei Ying.”
Bet you wish I was cursed all the time. It’s a nice excuse to make me shut up. “Fine.”
Lan Zhan seemed to read Wei Wuxian’s irritation anyway. “I do not wish to smother you. I only wish to be sure you are safe.”
Wei Wuxian waved a hand—he was frustrated, but it would take far more than this for Wei Wuxian not to forgive Lan Zhan as easily as breathing. He plucked at the collar of his robe and stood up. He grabbed his bag and went behind the privacy screen to get dressed.
The room was oppressively quiet as he tied his robes into place.
When he emerged, Lan Zhan had a pinched look to his face. He felt the tension in the room as surely as Wei Wuxian did. “You’re unhappy. You do not wish to stay here.”
“That’s not a question,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, sitting down at the table and looking at the breakfast. Lan Zhan had ordered up congee and steamed buns, along with two pots of tea. One teacup had been touched, but the rest was clearly waiting for Wei Wuxian.
Lan Zhan sat across from him. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“No.” He wanted to ask why that seemed to be the first question on Lan Zhan’s lips at every turn. Surely Wei Wuxian had made it obvious by now that he wanted Lan Zhan with him, no matter the circumstance. After debating with himself for honest phrasing, he finally just added, “Never that.”
“You want me to stay. You want me to help you,” Lan Zhan said, staring intently at Wei Wuxian. “Your distress comes from believing I should not desire to help you.”
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said.
“You cannot lie. I do not lie. You want me to stay. I want to stay. Why are you still upset?”
“I’m—” He cut himself off and started filling his plate with food. His movements were stiff and clumsy. The serving spoon clattered against his plate with a jarring clang.
Wei Wuxian never wanted to be left alone. That was the problem. He wanted to hold Lan Zhan to his side with a desperation so fierce he frightened himself. Lan Zhan was too good. He would let Wei Wuxian demand too much. He would suffer to ease Wei Wuxian’s way.
Why? Why did Lan Zhan put up with him? In what world was anything Wei Wuxian desired worth even inconveniencing the great Hanguang-Jun? Lan Zhan would let Wei Wuxian ruin him the way he had ruined every good thing in his life.
“Apologies,” Lan Zhan said. “I know you are frustrated. You do not like accepting help. But I want to give it, and I am…incapable of leaving you alone when you do not want to be. Do not ask me to abandon you.”
Wei Wuxian nodded jerkily. His chest hurt worse than it had when the curse had held him. This was not ice—it was fire, and it licked at him from inside.
Fortunately, Lan Zhan settled into silence when Wei Wuxian took his first bite. For once, the Lan Clan’s rule against talking while eating worked in Wei Wuxian’s favor.
How did the Lan Clan stomach so much silence? Or, maybe more accurately—how did they stomach how little silence there was with Wei Wuxian most days? The quiet clink of their teacups and chopsticks seemed deafening.
When their plates were empty, Lan Zhan folded his hands on his lap. “You do not wish me to pay for the room for the rest of the week.”
“Right.”
“Could I take you back to Cloud Recesses until the curse fades?”
Wei Wuxian huffed. “Yes.” That hadn’t been what he had wanted to say, but he bit his tongue once the single word was out. It was the truth, after all. As though Wei Wuxian could stop Lan Zhan from doing anything.
Lan Zhan frowned, staring at Wei Wuxian. Then, he asked, “Would you be comfortable if I took you back to Cloud Recesses?”
“No.”
Lan Zhan’s expression shuttered. He looked carefully neutral, and Wei Wuxian hated to see it.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, picking his words with care. He hated having to be so precise. “It is not comfortable to impose. Even for me.”
“It is not an imposition.”
“There are people who would hate me being there,” Wei Wuxian reminded him.
Lan Zhan’s expression was fierce. “I am Chief Cultivator and the Clan Leader’s brother. Any Lan Clan disciples who dislike your presence would be wise to keep it to themselves. I am permitted guests.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. “Cloud Recesses is your home. You should be happy there.”
“Yes.”
Wei Wuxian waited, but Lan Zhan did not seem inclined to continue. “So you don’t need to invite me back there just because I’ve been mildly cursed. If you want space for yourself.”
“I am most happy when you are present.”
Wei Wuxian laughed weakly. “Oh, Lan Zhan. If I’m forced to tell the truth, I would prefer you didn’t give me pretty lies today.”
“It is not a lie,” Lan Zhan said. He stared at Wei Wuxian with an open, pained expression. “I do not like that you feel you truthfully can say you believe I am lying to you. I am most happy when you are present, Wei Ying. I found this nighthunt as an excuse to be near you, to infringe on your time alone. I have never desired your absence.”
“You… Lan Zhan, please be honest with me. If you wanted me around, why didn’t you invite me back to Gusu?”
“You were finally free after so many years. You said you wanted to explore the world. I have seen… Cloud Recesses can be a prison. I do not wish for Wei Ying to feel trapped.”
“I would rather be anywhere with you than without you. Wandering gets lonely. Boring. You think I would rather talk to Lil Apple than you? You think I would rather go through crowds where no one knows my face than be in Cloud Recesses with you?”
“I told you that you were always welcome in Gusu,” Lan Zhan said.
Wei Wuxian snorted. “Jiang Cheng told me that I could visit Lotus Pier.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, but that—” doesn’t matter “meant the world to me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What I’m trying to say is that I understand people give invitations they do not truly mean. I… I didn’t want to show up in Cloud Recesses and then watch you regret making the offer. I’m not the same as I was in school. I feared rejection then—even if I didn’t show it—but I did not believe anyone’s rejection could ever break me. If you rejected me now...” He squeezed his eyes shut. “One-word answers. This was why we both wanted me to keep to one-word answers. I never planned on saying that.”
“Wei Ying.”
“Please don’t feel obligated. I have broken before, but I’ve survived nearly everything that’s come at me. When I came back to life, my first wish was that I had stayed dead, but even then I continued on, and I will keep continuing on. If I came to Cloud Recesses and you turned away from me, it would not break me. But it would hurt, and I’m tired of being hurt.”
“I do not wish to hurt you,” Lan Zhan said. “I would not turn away from you.”
“This is why—I don’t want you to make decisions just because you’re afraid of hurting me.”
“I will never make a decision that I believe will hurt you,” Lan Zhan said. “It is not because I pity you. It is because hurting you hurts me. I told you that your presence brings me joy. Your absence brings me sadness. I want only to be with you.”
Wei Wuxian felt as though he were drowning in emotion. “Lan Zhan,” he choked. “I’m scared.”
Lan Zhan’s gaze sharpened. He searched Wei Wuxian’s face. “Scared? Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian took a shuddering breath. “You’re being so kind. I’m afraid that one day I will ask for too much, and you will leave me behind. For good.”
“If it is kindness, then it is also selfishness. I could never turn from you because my soul will no longer allow it. I did it before, but I have made a vow. I will be at your side whenever you allow it, Wei Ying. I would like you at Cloud Recesses for as long as you wished it.” Carefully, Lan Zhan held a hand out across the table, and Wei Wuxian grasped it like a lifeline. “I never meant to make you feel unwelcome. I did not want to overstep.”
“Overstep. Please. Step all over me,” Wei Wuxian said.
“You’re… The curse is still in effect?”
Wei Wuxian laughed breathlessly. “Yes.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said. “Nothing you can ask for would be too much. What do you want?”
“Kiss me.”
They both froze for a long moment. The quiet, sunlit inn room seemed unearthly silent beyond the pounding in Wei Wuxian’s ears.
Then, Lan Zhan stood and moved to kneel beside Wei Wuxian. He cupped his cheek with one hand, staring at him with that soft intensity that had been overwhelming Wei Wuxian since they’d reunited after his resurrection. He was starting to think that, maybe, he understood what Lan Zhan meant with that look.
Lan Zhan leaned forward and captured Wei Wuxian’s lips in a kiss. It was not polite or perfunctory. One instant, they were only staring at each other, and the next Lan Zhan was kissing him with fierce desperation.
Wei Wuxian fisted a hand in his robes and pulled him close. Lan Zhan used the hand on Wei Wuxian’s cheek to tilt his head and thoroughly ravage his mouth. He kissed like he fought—with confidence and perfect focus. Wei Wuxian whined against his lips.
Lan Zhan’s right hand moved from Wei Wuxian’s cheek to his hair, grasping and holding him tight. His other hand slid down to Wei Wuxian’s back, wide palm pulling him forward until they were pressed together.
After an infinity, the hand in Wei Wuxian’s hair tugged sideways, and Lan Zhan traced a path of kisses down Wei Wuxian’s neck. His mouth was hot and wet, and teeth occasionally scraped against Wei Wuxian’s skin.
Wei Wuxian stared at the ceiling and tried to breathe. “Lan Zhan,” he murmured.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, nipping his neck and then finally pulling back to look into his eyes.
“I dreamed about this. I’ve wanted this for so long,” Wei Wuxian confessed.
“Mm,” Lan Zhan said, pressing forward for another brief kiss. “Me too. Love you.”
“Lan Zhan.” He reached out to trace his fingers down Lan Zhan’s face, reveling in the softness of his skin, reveling in the fact he was allowed to do this. Then he tilted forward, pressing his forehead against Lan Zhan’s. As always, Lan Zhan was there to catch him. He could feel the press of Lan Zhan’s headband against his skin, but Lan Zhan did not flinch. “I love you.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, pressed close and breathing the same air. Lan Zhan wove their hands together, and Wei Wuxian realized they were both trembling slightly. Though he made declarations as easily as breathing and kissed like he was starving, Lan Zhan was as overwhelmed as he was.
When he finally felt stable, Wei Wuxian pulled back and beamed at Lan Zhan. “Maybe we could let the kids head back to Gusu while we book one more night in the inn,” he suggested. “I don’t want to stop kissing you long enough to travel all the way to Cloud Recesses. Besides, if we’re going to stay there, I want to travel with Lil Apple. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“We can walk,” Lan Zhan confirmed. “I want you to stay.”
Wei Wuxian’s smile was so wide it threatened to hurt. “I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
“I will not tire of you, Wei Ying.”
“Then you’ll have me for a very long time,” Wei Wuxian said.
Lan Zhan kissed him again, devouring him. The burning in his chest had faded to a pleasant warmth. He thought he might never feel cold again. He wanted to have Lan Zhan’s lips on his every day of his life. It seemed horrendous that if not for the nighthunt, he might have never gotten this.
Wei Wuxian pulled away, ducking his head and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” he said. “I’m sorry it took a curse for me to be honest.”
“I also did not say,” Lan Zhan said.
“I don’t want to be as afraid in this life as I was in the last,” Wei Wuxian said. “I was so afraid all the time, Lan Zhan. I tried to hide it, but I was too sure I’d lose everyone. I lost almost everyone anyway.” He thought of those lost at Lotus Pier, Shi-jie, Wen Qing, the other Wens. He thought of the tension that still lingered between him and Jiang Cheng from the actions taken and motives hidden. “I don’t want to die with regrets again.”
Lan Zhan’s hands tightened fiercely before softening. He ran a thumb against the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand in silent apology. “I know accepting help is difficult for you. I know you do not trust fully with ease. But please—be honest with me, when you can. Let me love you.”
“If you’ll promise the same,” Wei Wuxian said, “I can try.”
“That’s all I ask,” Lan Zhan said.
“I love you,” Wei Wuxian repeated. He darted forward for another kiss—this was his, he could do this—and then said, “Go send the juniors on their way. They’ll be missing Gusu already, if I know the Lan Clan. Besides, I want to take full advantage of this room, and that will be easier when we’re not afraid of being interrupted by our son and your impressionable little disciples.”
“They were worried about you,” Lan Zhan said. “Lan Sizhui especially. He has been hoping for a long time that you may come back to Gusu to teach alongside Wen Ning. I believe he fears he was at fault for the curse.”
“He can stop that nonsense. I would take any harm to spare A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian said. It was an honesty he would have shared with or without the curse. “Tell them you’ll be with me. That should reassure them more than anything else. They look up to you more than I ever respected any teacher.”
“I would be more flattered if I had not met most of your teachers,” Lan Zhan said dryly.
Wei Wuxian laughed. “One of those teachers was your esteemed uncle, Lan Zhan! How do so many people not realize that you’re funny? I love when you tease me.”
“I plan on doing much more of that later,” Lan Zhan assured him. “When there are not young disciples in hearing range.”
“Then go and hurry back,” Wei Wuxian said, lifting their hands so he could kiss Lan Zhan’s knuckles. His pale, slender fingers were calloused from his sword and guqin. Wei Wuxian wanted to feel them against every inch of him. “I’ll be here waiting for you. Lan Zhan, I feel I’ve spent so much of my life waiting for you, waiting for this. Come back to me.”
“I will,” Lan Zhan assured him. “I always will.”