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It takes three days before Wei Wuxian develops a fever from his injuries sustained during the battle in the Xuanwu’s cave. It surprises Lan Wangji. Typically, if a fever occurs, it happens in the immediate aftermath, when the body warms to fight off infection and increase blood flow to the injury site. Lan Wangji’s own wound, a compound fracture to the right leg, has sealed with no signs of fever or pestilence.
Wei Wuxian groans, shifting in his sleep, and Lan Wangji pulls his hand away from Wei Wuxian’s forehead. When he opens his eyes, they’re glassy, readily reflecting the light of their small fire.
“You have developed a fever,” Lan Wangji informs him. “I’d like to check which wound is causing it.”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes take a moment to track him properly. Lan Wangji reaches forward once again; he hadn’t seemed that hot, but sickness could kill even the strongest of cultivators.
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, “don’t worry about me. It’s, uh...it’s the eighteenth, isn’t it?”
Lan Wangji pulls back, wondering what the date has to do with Wei Wuxian’s infection, when understanding strikes through him. The warmth, the flushed cheeks, the sweaty bangs -- the eighteenth must be when Wei Wuxian experiences kemmer. Lan Wangji feels a sympathetic heat rush through him. His own kemmer usually starts on the twentieth of each month. They’re nearly in sync.
“I can’t be sure of the date,” Lan Wangji says, tongue thick in his mouth.
“It’s only kemmer.” Wei Wuxian turns away from him, closing his eyes once again. “Just leave me be. I can handle it.”
Lan Wangji grits his jaw and moves away. Soon they will both be in kemmer.
----
He spends the next day tending to the fire and trying to ignore every shift of Wei Wuxian’s body, to unhear every groan Wei Wuxian makes. Without a partner, his body is in flux, shifting between the sexes. Lan Wangji has only experienced a partnerless kemmer once and, even then, for only half a day. It had been a horrible, knotted pain laced with confusion. His body had twisted and expanded and shrank, all the while lit with an overwhelming blaze.
Wei Wuxian bears it with more grace than Lan Wangji expects.
In some ways, Lan Wangji feels lucky. He’ll be able to help Wei Wuxian; Wei Wuxian will be able to help him.
Lan Wangji feeds the fire and then dozes.
When he wakes the fire is low, but his body is awash with heat. His kemmer has come early. He pauses in thought, thick and slow with his body’s changed priorities. It may be that Wei Wuxian’s kemmer came late. Either way, Lan Wangji crawls first to the fire and then to him.
Wei Wuxian’s gaze is half-lidded. He’s pink-cheeked with wet lips. They part in curiosity as Lan Wangji approaches. Before Wei Wuxian can voice his question, realization passed over his face.
“Oh,” he says, turns over more fully, uncurling and bearing himself to Lan Wangji’s heated gaze.
Their pheromones are thick in the air, establishing dominance. Lan Wangji feels himself stir and swell -- growing, lengthening. Before Lan Wangji’s eyes, the change reshapes Wei Wuxian. His cheeks soften, sweetening as their hormones pick sides. Within minutes, they’re a perfect complement to one another.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. It is a whole sentence. It is more than one sentence; it contains multitudes. I am here. You are not alone. I can help you. Will you help me?
Wei Wuxian’s breath comes faster, but he doesn’t move, only watches Lan Wangji.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries again, softer. This time he reaches out, cupping Wei Wuxian’s face. Wei Wuxian leans into it, turning to press his lips to the palm of Lan Wangji’s hand. His eyelashes flutter shut, a dark curve against his cheek.
But then a frown pulls at Wei Wuxian’s lips and his eyes pop open again. His pupils are blown wide, smoldering with internal and external heat. “Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji’s name is an objection.
Lan Wangji shifts closer still, practically half on top of Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji can taste Wei Wuxian's sweat on the back of his tongue. “We should share kemmer.” Wei Wuxian gathers breath to further object, but Lan Wangji continues. “It is unwise to withhold. It will damage our bodies.”
Wei Wuxian’s mouth opens and then closes. The movement captures Lan Wangji’s attention. His lips are still shiny, but now they are also plump from where Wei Wuxian’s teeth have bitten into them. Lan Wangji catches Wei Wuxian taking him in -- sees how Wei Wuxian’s eyes linger at the sharper cut of his jaw and the swelling in his pants.
“I thought...I thought you Lans would be all about repression and self-regulation.”
“No.” Lan Wangji frowns. The rules surrounding kemmer had not been part of Wei Wuxian’s punishment. They were a subsection, intended for clan members as they reached maturity. “Kemmer is important.” He wets his lips, “sacred.”
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “Then you can’t share it with me!” He shifts, attempting to turn away.
Lan Wangji reaches out, and pushes Wei Wuxian’s shoulder flat, halting Wei Wuxian’s movement. Lan Wangji’s brow furrows. “Why not?”
“You just said it was sacred! Important!”
“Yes.” Lan Wangji acknowledges and stares into Wei Wuxian, trying to transmit his thoughts through look alone. Wei Wuxian starts struggling again, so Lan Wangji must speak. “We are in kemmer together. Our bodies have chosen for us.” Wei Wuxian stills under the weight of his words. “It is the height of insult to spurn our compatibility. It is a gift from the gods.”
Wei Wuxian’s breath leaves him in a woosh. “Oh,” he says. Then, “Oh, yes," and Wei Wuxian is reaching out to him. Lan Wangji meets him in the middle with a clash of lips and heat.
The fire is nothing compared to the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s skin. Lan Wangji pulls back and Wei Wuxian follows him. They kneel, kissing and fumbling with each other’s clothing. Wei Wuxian curses against Lan Wangji's lips, damning GusuLan’s elegance as he searches for the hidden ties on Lan Wangji’s sash. Lan Wangji growls into the next kiss, pushing Wei Wuxian’s hands out of the way so that he can undo the ties himself. Wei Wuxian scrambles with his own clothing, easily shedding belt and sash and outer layers. He pushes down his trousers and then reclines, chest heaving.
Wei Wuxian is beautiful in the firelight, golden and exquisite. The evidence of Wei Wuxian’s compatibility is bare before Lan Wangji’s eyes. His thighs are slick with arousal and dense with corded muscle.
Lan Wangji’s breath catches in his chest. Lan Wangji has seen Wei Wuxian go through the YunmengJiang sword forms, moving like water: rolling, fluid, and brutal.
He’s the same when Lan Wangji takes his place between Wei Wuxian’s legs and thrusts inside.
----
Lan Wangji returns to Gusu to rebuild and to prepare for war. He hears news of Lotus Pier’s fall and he worries, but not too much. If Wei Ying is anything at all, he’s a survivor.
Lan Wangji’s body heats on the road to Qinghe. He’s early. It’s as if his cycle has moved up, irrevocably changed by Wei Ying’s presence in his life. He’s forced to visit a kemmerhouse on the outskirts of Lanling. The partner he finds there is lovely, features rounding as they assume their roles.
He is nothing compared to Wei Ying.
In the months of Wei Ying’s disappearance, Lan Wangji is forced to visit two other kemmerhouses. Each time, he takes on the mantle of the dominant role. It is unusual to become male so many times in a row. Lan Wangji tries to ignore his unease. When he pushes into the bodies of others, he continues to think of Wei Ying.
It does not feel divine for his cycle to align with other people.
----
When Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin find Wei Ying, he is different.
Jiang Wanyin pulls Wei Ying into a hug and then immediately pulls back out of it, nose wrinkling. “Are you in kemmer?” His hand goes to Wei Ying’s forehead, parting his bangs. They’ve grown in length since the last time Lan Wangji saw Wei Ying. Before they’d ended at his brows; now they linger over his cheeks, nearly completely covering his eyes.
Wei Ying’s eyes, when they’re revealed, glitter in the candle light. Jianng Cheng continues, “You’re not hot, but…”
Lan Wangji watches, breath trapped in his chest. It is the ninth day of the fifth month. It should be nowhere near Wei Ying’s -- Lan Wangji’s -- cycle. Wei Ying should not be in kemmer. A prickling feeling crawls up his back.
Wei Ying takes a step back and out of Jiang Wanyin’s grasp. “It is of no matter.”
Jiang Wanyin’s expression scrunches. “It damn well is.” He reenters Wei Ying’s space. “It’s strange. Too early.”
Lan Wangji scrutinizes Wei Ying, trying to see what signs Jiang Wanyin picked up. Wei Ying’s high cheekbones are sharp, almost gaunt. It’s difficult to discern what is malnutrition versus what is sexual presentation.
“We have been worried about you,” Lan Wangji says as he steps closer. Wei Ying’s attention jumps from Jiang Wanyin to Lan Wangji. His eyes are wide, frightened and red-tinged.
“Ah,” Wei Ying says, withdrawing again, “you shouldn’t.”
And this time, Lan Wangji hears it: the lengthening and thickening of his vocal cords. Wei Ying’s voice has dropped a half an octave.
It feels like a dance, like the prelude to a bout. Wei Ying retreats and Lan Wangji moves in, pressing for an advantage. “You are male,” Lan Wangji says, probing Wei Ying’s defenses.
Wei Ying’s lips thin with anger. “It’s none of your concern.”
Attack.
The words land, piercing through Lan Wangji’s hope. He feels skewered. What they shared at Muxi Mountain was important, sacred. Lan Wangji knows Wei Ying understands -- that he felt it too. They’d talked into the long hours of isolation, only the cyclical dying of the fire and heating of their bodies to mark the passing of time.
Lan Wangji knows when he’s been outclassed. He’d been trained to retreat and regroup, trained to return with a better strategy. He flees, ignoring Jiang Wanyin calling out to him.
----
Wei Ying settles beside him at the fire. They’re still two days on foot away from the nearest military encampment.
Wei Ying curls in on himself, drawing up his legs and hugging his knees. It is a strange posture for someone as loud and big as Wei Ying typically feels. Felt. The thought saddens Lan Wangji. He’s never seen Wei Wuxian turn inwards.
Jiang Wanyin has gone to fetch water. Lan Wangji will not break the silence between them. That leaves the crackling of the fire and quiet syncopation of their breaths.
“I’m sorry, Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying says into his knees.
Lan Wangji thought he wanted to hear Wei Ying, but instead the words are accompanied by a flare of anger, hot and burning in his chest. In the same breath, Wei Ying apologizes to bring them closer and then pushes him away. He refutes their closeness by using Lan Wangji’s courtesy name.
Wasn’t Wei Ying the one who was always pushing for more, pushing for intimacy? Where is that spirit now, when Lan Wangji needs it most?
“I’m…” Wei Ying continues, voice barely above a whisper. Lan Wangji can hear how dry Wei Ying’s mouth is, how each word clicks. “I’m stuck.” Wei Wing finishes.
Lan Wangji stills. “Stuck?” Lan Wangji echos and then meaning filters in. He is suffused with horror. Stuck. Perverted. An abomination. Emotions flood through Lan Wangji, one after another, in a torrent: fear then disgust then sadness.
Wei Ying had been beautiful -- stunning, glorious, beyond description -- as a woman. Lan Wangji may never see him female again. Wei Ying will suffer social rejection as others realize what has happened. It cannot be disguised, not really, not permanently.
When Lan Wangji’s thoughts finally calm enough for him to look at Wei Ying, he finds Wei Ying looking back at him. He’d turned to watch Lan Wangji’s reaction, cheek pressed to his folded arms. His face is mostly in shadow, bangs blocking the firelight, but Lan Wangji can make out his expression. It is sad.
Their positions are so similar to their time in Muxi Mountain, and yet so different.
Lan Wangji continues to watch Wei Ying, watches as he blinks his eyes closed and reburies his face in the protective nest of his arms. Wei Ying is scared. It seems he’d steeled himself for Lan Wangji’s disgust and rejection. He’s not sure what to do with Lan Wangji’s silence.
As Lan Wangji searches himself, he finds only curiosity curling in his guts. If Wei Ying is stuck male, then Lan Wangji will bloom with womanhood during kemmer.
Lan Wangji realizes he is hopeful. There’s a small ember glowing in his chest. It warms him more completely than the fire. He’s not willing to give up Wei Ying, even if his nature has been perverted.
Lan Wangji reaches out. Wei Ying stiffens at the initial contact, a hand across his upper back, close to the nape of his neck. It takes an endless moment before Wei Ying relaxes under Lan Wangji’s touch.
“It is okay,” Lan Wangji says into the night.
----
Lan Wangji goes into kemmer ten days later. He tracks down Wei Ying, pulling him away from Jiang Wanyin by the hand. Lan Wangji’s grip is hot and sweaty, giving himself away.
Wei Ying stands in the center of Lan Wangji’s tent. He fiddles with the tassel at the end of his black, lacquered flute. He watches as Lan Wangji reaches behind his own back, seeking out the hidden ties to his sash.
He swallows audibly. “It’s not fated if I’m stuck.”
And Lan Wangji carefully folds his sash, setting it aside, before approaching Wei Ying. He reaches out and retakes Wei Ying’s hand in his, stilling his nervous movements. “It is for me.”
Wei Ying’s face shifts into something complicated that Lan Wangji cannot parse. “Are you sure?”
Lan Wangji nods. “I choose Wei Ying.” Wei Ying’s expression cracks open, a shine coming into his eyes in the face of Lan Wangji’s unvarnished want.
He helps Wei Ying remove the unforgiving leather of his belt, and even harder flute, before pulling Wei Ying down to share his cot. Lan Wangji is still in the beginnings of kemmer; heat shimmers under his skin. His need is not great. Not yet.
Wei Ying kneels at the edge, unsure where to settle. Lan Wangji decides for him, bullying Wei Ying onto his side and then spooning up behind him.
Wei Ying cannot escape. He’s here, with Lan Wangji, as he should be.
----
Lan Wangji wakes. He is male. He is hard.
Wei Ying is still in the circle of his arms, warm and thin and utterly precious. Confusion slides along Lan Wangji’s nerves. They are not in complement. It shouldn’t happen this way. It shouldn’t be possible for it to happen this way.
Lan Wangji is supposed to be female.
The languor of kemmer evaporates as panic takes hold of Lan Wangji. His breath picks up in pace and force. It must wake Wei Ying, for he turns over, never breaking Lan Wangji’s embrace. Wei Ying presses closer, kissing him.
“Shhh,” he says, breath a caress against Lan Wangji’s lips. “It’s okay.” It’s an echo of Lan Wangji’s own words to Wei Ying.
They do not soothe him. “It’s --”
Wei Ying cuts him off with another kiss. “I can be a woman for you.”
And Lan Wangji understands. They are more than their biology. More than their binary. Maybe they will be damned together.
Lan Wangji has chosen Wei Ying and Wei Ying has chosen him back.
.