Work Text:
"'I like rabbits,' you said."
Morning sun beams down among the Qinghe shop eaves. In its too-bright light Wei Wuxian observes the wash of fading shock on Lan Wangji's face. There's relief in it, but not only relief. He himself has had all night, while Lan Wangji slept, to careen between belief and incredulity, to stew in astonished joy. To wonder and ponder--whether to say something, whether to wait--but he doesn't make his choice until that instant.
"And also me. You said you like me."
Lan Wangji freezes in place.
Townsfolk and travelers bustle past, though Wei Wuxian hardly hears them. It's as if he and Lan Wangji have formed an island, set outside the flow of time and passersby by a spell.
"I asked why you've been helping me," he adds. "You said it's because you regret not standing by me at Nightless City, and because it's what you should do. 'Because a lover, if his love is honorable, should do for his beloved whatever he can, while maintaining the precepts.'"
It's not one of the Lan Clan's three-thousand-some rules; if it were, Wei Wuxian would know it, unless the list expanded while he was dead. As directives go, it's really not bad. He suspects a Wangji special addition.
Lan Wangji's throat works as if he's trying to swallow raw lumps of fear. The whites of his eyes shine moonlike.
"What...did you say?"
"I said, 'Lan Zhan, can you tell me all this again tomorrow?'" Wei Wuxian fits as much reassurance as he can muster into his smile. Some of his joy sneaks in, too; he feels it like an ache in the stretch of his mouth. "Aaand it's now tomorrow, so."
Lan Wangji seems able neither to move nor speak, only to stand exuding mute torrents of feeling. His eyes acknowledge nothing in the world but Wei Wuxian. His hand--the one not gripping Bichen--trembles at his side. It reaches with dreamlike slowness for Wei Wuxian's wrist, only to stop, just shy.
Wei Wuxian begins to regret having this talk on a Qinghe street.
With a swing in his step, he pivots closer. He tilts his head back toward the inn.
"Should we go back to our room?"
*
The room from last night is being cleaned; they have to book another. Wei Wuxian counts it as Gusu Lan money well spent. When they're alone, behind closed doors, Lan Wangji folds himself to one of the floor cushions with grace scarcely diminished, not at all as if his knees are about to collapse. His hands take their positions on his white-clad lap, shaped loosely into fists. For a second Wei Wuxian thinks he might propose joint meditation, to calm their minds before further unrest.
His eyes search Wei Wuxian for understanding. "I spoke the truth," he says.
Wei Wuxian settles next to him, knee to knee. "I know you did. You tried to give me chickens. Remember that?"
Lan Wangji only blinks.
"Roosters, actually. Is that what people do in Gusu? In Yunmeng people give ducks. Lotus seeds. Dates and peanuts. I feel like maybe ducks are more romantic than chickens." He can't seem to stop rambling, any more than he can quash his foolish grin for more than a second at a time. "But then it's bad luck to eat them. Chickens are good, I think."
Lan Wangji casts about the room, a little walleyed, as if he expects the betrothal chickens to cluck suddenly into being. "What became of them?"
"I didn't keep them. You grabbed them from a coop at someone's house." Wei Wuxian takes pity on him. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Telling you of Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. Then...a man in a mask. I...fought?"
"That's right."
Lan Wangji's expression grows tense. "After speaking...what did I do?"
"You put yourself to bed. Nine o'clock sharp." Wei Wuxian laughs a little, but Lan Wangji looks uneasy still. "What were you so afraid you'd do?"
Lan Wangji turns away.
"Lan Zhan?"
He averts his gaze a minute longer, then pins it on Wei Wuxian. Its heat hits like a bolt to the stomach.
"Touch you," he says.
When Wei Wuxian can speak, he says unsteadily, "Would that have been so bad?"
"You said yourself." Lan Wangji lowers his head. "You did not accept my gift."
"What, the roosters? They were stolen goods! If I'd taken them you'd be telling me off for it."
"We are not betrothed, then," says Lan Wangji morosely, as if this ought to serve as explanation. Betrothal is a prerequisite, it seems. Well, what did Wei Wuxian expect from one of the Jades of Lan, whose love is honorable, even when he's commandeering local poultry in a besotted daze? "Furthermore, my mind was unclear. If we...if you were to permit such things, I would wish it to be clear." Then, in a lower voice: "To remember."
To remember every second, every hitch of breath and inch of skin--that's what he means. Wei Wuxian inhales evenly to ward off swooning. He takes hold of Lan Wangji's hands, petting their knuckles with his thumbs until they almost relax.
"I would...permit such things...from Lan Zhan." He tries to make it sound courtly and heartfelt--the way it sounds when Lan Wangji says it, not filthy the way it sounds in his head--but Lan Wangji's pupils still flare. "We can go to the market. You can buy me another rooster. Honestly, though, Lan Zhan, if you're going to give me a cock, I'd rather it be mmphfl--"
Wei Wuxian laughs behind the smothering hand. Lan Wangji's glorious brow is pinched.
"No crudeness."
That is one of the three thousand, muttered downward and inward, as if to rebuke himself as much as Wei Wuxian. Only then does Lan Wangji seem to notice what he's doing, where he's touching. The pressure of his palm withdraws abruptly, but his hand remains in place, just grazing the skin. It holds very still against Wei Wuxian's parted lips.
Wei Wuxian lifts his chin. The motion brushes his lips over Lan Wangji's palm, which, he begins to suspect, has never once in his life been kissed.
*
Lan Wangji insists on returning to the house of chickens. Seeing that he won't relent, Wei Wuxian pulls a face and follows him from the inn. As they make their way through the streets he bumps their shoulders together whenever the impulse strikes him, which is incessantly. With every nudge the set of Lan Wangji's face eases further, as if he's beginning to believe all this might be real.
Wei Wuxian decides it's question time, even with no wine at hand. "When were you going to tell me? If you hadn't last night."
"Never. If you seemed unwilling to hear."
"Unwilling? Lan Zhan." His lower lip puffs of its own accord. "Couldn't you tell I was gone on you since we first met?"
"You spoke often of women then. You flirted with no earnest intent. Later, when I sought to aid you, you rebuffed me time and again," says Lan Wangji, without a trace of rancor, and Wei Wuxian--whose memory may have elided a thing or two--can only wince. "I have hidden nothing. If you chose to act as though you did not see...."
"Hidden nothing? Come on."
"What have I hidden?"
"Your scars, for one."
"...You have seen them. Therefore they are not hidden."
Wei Wuxian shoots him a look, but for now he doesn't press, not when Lan Wangji is gazing fixedly at the road ahead. Not when the arm against his is warm and solid, and the sun is shining and the roadside grass is shimmering as it sways in the wind, like there's no reason in the world to be anything but glad. Glad to be here, alive, with this man who wants so very badly to give him chickens.
It takes a few wrong turns to track down the little house again. They arrive to find the birds milling in the yard, pecking and clucking, and a gray-haired woman in homespun shelling beans by the door.
She blinks up at their appearance. She sets the beans aside and rises hastily, brushing her skirts with both hands.
"Young Masters, may I help you?"
Lan Wangji asks after the master or lady of the house. Gone to town, the old woman says. Before he can speak again, his glance strays to the wooden post near the door. His eyes widen at the characters inscribed there. Wei Wuxian snickers into his fist.
"Ah, that's right. You did that last night, too."
While Lan Wangji stares, appalled, Wei Wuxian elbows him and points. "I added mine so yours wouldn't be lonely. See?"
There are rituals to undo death, but no talismans for un-carving wood. Lan Wangji bows deeply to the woman and apologizes for having defaced the property. She flaps her hands, flashing a toothy grin.
"We thought some little hooligans had done it. My son and daughter-in-law won't believe me when I tell them it was Hanguang-jun himself!"
Little hooligan Hanguang-jun reaches for his purse. He draws out silver far in excess of what would replace the post. "Madam, if I may. I wish to purchase chickens."
"Chickens."
Before he can say more, Wei Wuxian leans and tugs his sleeve. "Lan Zhan, hold up. What'll we do with them? Eat them for lunch? We can't exactly tote them around."
"Send them to Gusu," says Lan Wangji, unperturbed. "I shall have the other gifts prepared."
The other gifts, he says. Wei Wuxian stares. "You're serious."
When Lan Wangji only regards him steadily, Wei Wuxian shifts his weight from foot to foot and tries again.
"Um, I mean, I know you're serious, but--you don't have to get me things. Can't we just...elope?"
"If you wish."
The immediate assent makes Wei Wuxian feel as if he's tripped on his own feet, maybe because they've gone cold. He casts about for objections and finds them in easy reach.
"You deserve better." Not only a better wedding--a better partner. Better, less indelibly tainted, made of finer stuff. One who isn't still reviled, after all these years, in seemingly every corner of the world, and who wouldn't give Grandmaster Lan an apoplexy on sight.
"I deserve nothing," says Lan Wangji at once. His eyes are darkened and intent. "I failed to defend you. I failed to prevent your death. Nonetheless, I ask if you will have me. I wish to walk our path together always, be it on the narrow bridge through the dark. There is no one better."
The words ring in Wei Wuxian's ears and through his ribcage. His heart makes convoluted motions in his chest. His mouth goes dry--largely because it's fallen open--while his eyes blur, suddenly wet. He shuts his mouth and clamps his lips together, hard, to hold in whatever's about to come wailing out.
Seeing his tears, Lan Wangji starts. "Wei Ying--"
"All right! We don't have to elope. We can do it however you want." Wei Wuxian's voice shakes on a laugh. Even his smile feels blurry; he sniffs and rubs his nose. "Ah, Lan Zhan. You should warn me before a speech like that. You know my only dowry is a reputation from hell, right?"
By way of answer Lan Wangji directs himself toward the chickens, which have bustled over to peck obligingly about his feet. He scoops up one, then another, one in each arm. The chickens buck and squabble and squirm. Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian with his entire soul in his eyes.
The old woman, who has stood witness the entire time, claps her hands. "Goodness me, congratulations! My family will never believe!"
*
They leave Qinghe to pursue the ghost-masked man, but not before Wei Wuxian orders bao to carry with them, and two more bottles of wine from the inn.
"This might be my new favorite," he tells Lan Wangji--Lan Wangji, his future husband--as he dangles the flasks from one hand. "Though Emperor's Smile is tough to beat."
The smile in response is small, but impossible to miss.
They follow the road east from the city, into increasingly deserted hills, guided by the qiankun bag. It's a day for celebration, and hot besides in midday sun; Wei Wuxian uncorks one of the bottles to drink as they walk. The wine tastes clean and sweet. He wipes his mouth with one fist when droplets trickle down his chin.
"The scars," says Lan Wangji, without preamble. He hasn't so much as touched one of the bottles, but maybe the whiff of wine alone is enough to unstop his mouth. "If you must know."
He breaks off. He seems unable to continue, despite having begun.
Wei Wuxian waits, then asks, "Are you ashamed of them?"
"No."
"So they're because of me, then." What else could it have been, when it's a truth universally acknowledged that Wei Wuxian is the root of all evil? Even without hearing details, he can hazard a guess; he's been on the receiving end of Lan discipline. He lowers his eyes and sidesteps, interjecting space between them. "Otherwise you would've just said."
Lan Wangji turns to him, eyes troubled, refuting nothing.
"Do not blame yourself."
The injunction's useless, but Wei Wuxian finds his words to Lan Shizui--about shouldering guilt that belongs to others--returning to chafe him. To beat Lan Wangji bloody was obscene. Didn't the Lan precepts forbid obscenity? It wasn't Zewu-jun who'd ordered his little brother so mercilessly whipped that the scars remain after sixteen years, or Wei Wuxian will eat his shirt. He might not regret giving Uncle Qiren an apoplexy, after all, assuming Uncle Qiren wakes up from his coma long enough to give him the chance.
He sucks in a breath. "Will they try to punish you like that again? For...for being with me."
Lan Wangji's pace remains unruffled. "Would you tolerate it?"
Obscurely warmed, Wei Wuxian shakes his head.
"So. We will leave if we must."
"But you don't think it'll come to that."
"No."
Wei Wuxian reserves his own misgivings, but the tightness in his throat relents. There's no sign of anyone else on the road, coming or going. He sidles close again, until their arms and shoulders bump. He thinks about coaxing Lan Wangji's hand from its appointed place at the small of his back, to hold it as they walk, fingers entwined. He thinks he could get away with it.
"It sounds all right, though, don't you think? Being wandering cultivators. Traveling the world."
Lan Wangji's face goes mild with agreement.
"With Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan missing, we could fill in for them. Maybe we'd find them, wherever they are. You never know. Things are unpredictable."
"Things are."
"Lan Zhan, I'm taking your hand, okay? Don't panic."
Lan Wangji halts in his tracks.
Wei Wuxian feels magnanimous for having given warning. He lowers his voice to a rakish pitch. "If you would permit such a thing."
"I--"
But Wei Wuxian already has hold of his curled fingers. They're unresisting, elegant and warm. Lan Wangji stares in what looks endearingly like incomprehension, even after everything the two of them have said. His lips are parted; he doesn't speak. He lets his hand be drawn down to their sides, lets its grasp align with Wei Wuxian's.
The fit's as good as he'd known it would be. Wei Wuxian tugs to pull him gently into forward motion, smiling all the while.