Home Is

◊   ◊   ◊

Branch

An arc of drama-based stories, filling in some gaps in the story. Also some definitely-together porn.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Getting There" published on 2020-02-28 16:58:56.

"Not Quite There" published on 2020-02-29 15:14:01.

"There You Are" published on 2020-03-14 12:58:57.

"The Heart of the Matter" published on 2020-03-22 13:55:15.

"Pace Out the Foundations" published on 2020-04-21 18:43:50.

"Here and Now" published on 2020-04-25 17:47:30.

"The Quiet Here" published on 2020-05-09 17:00:49.

"Return to Here" published on 2020-06-13 15:13:16.

"Raise the Pillars" published on 2020-06-21 14:06:47.

"Give One Heart, Get Back Two" published on 2020-06-22 15:30:09.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on June 22, 2020 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "Kamelie in Pirna 20" by BrÃ¼cke-Osteuropa, public domain, and "Elakala Waterfalls Swirling Pool Mossy Rocks" by Forest Wander, CC-BY-SA (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elakala_Waterfalls_Swirling_Pool_Mossy_Rocks.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

Getting There

Thirteen years of raising a child definitely cements Lan Wangji's growing tendency to ignore the rules he was taught, especially when he's trying to raise that child in memory of Wei Wuxian. Drama, Fluff, Angst, I-2

Three Days After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

When Lan Zhan took Wen Yuan out of the wreckage of the Burial Mounds and brought him down off the mountain, he was thinking of grief and of the nature of righteousness, and of possibly saving one tiny glimmer of the hope Wei Ying had so unhesitatingly given his hands and life over to. The hope that no one else in Lan Zhan's world even seemed to see, let alone cherish as he felt it deserved. He had not, as he walked carefully down the path to Yiling, trying to balance a fretful child in his arms with the clawing pain of his back, been thinking about making himself into a father in the eyes of the broader world.

That had apparently been an oversight.

"Not like that, young man!" The grandmotherly fruit vendor on his right plucked the wailing Wen Yuan out of his arms where her neighbor the fish vendor had only just finished arranging him. "You don't want to toss a child who's already crying! Save that for when he's in a better mood."

Tossing for good moods, Lan Zhan dutifully noted on his internal list of the rules of child rearing, despite some personal dubiousness. The list was already growing and sometimes contradictory, and he'd only been speaking with the two women for a little while. He could only hope that further experience would sort out the contradictions.

"When they're already crying, you want to rock them," the fruit vendor dictated, and Lan Zhan noted with a spark of hope that Wen Yuan's wails did seem to be decreasing in volume as the woman swayed back and forth with him.

No sooner did he think it, then Wen Yuan looked up at him tearfully and broke into another full-volume wail. Lan Zhan's heart sank.

Before he could strike the tentative mental entry of Rocking for tears, though, the fish vendor laughed. "This one is definitely a daddy's boy. Give him back, Jingmei, and let his father try."

"Gently, this time," the fruit vendor directed as she bundled Wen Yuan back into his arms, adjusting his hold briskly under the child's seat.

Lan Zhan ruthlessly stifled a flinch as the slices on his back pulled, and did his best to copy her slow sway from side to side, nearly holding his breath. To his immense relief, it seemed to work this time. Wen Yuan's tears slowly tapered off, and the boy finally went limp against him with the boneless slump Lan Zhan had already learned meant a child asleep, face mashed into Lan Zhan's collar. He dared to breathe out a soundless sigh of relief, which both women nevertheless caught immediately if their broad grins were any sign.

"There now, you're learning, young man," the fish vendor said, not nearly as softly as Lan Zhan would have thought advisable. Apparently they were correct again, though, because Wen Yuan didn't stir.

Lan Zhan still kept his own voice down when he said, as gravely as he could when it was so heartfelt, "Thank you." He also walked slowly and carefully, as he left, which was probably why he was still in ear-shot when the fruit vendor remarked to her neighbor, "Can't imagine what the child's mother was thinking, letting the two of them wander around unsupervised."

"He does look pretty lost, doesn't he? Do you think...?"

"The clans did have some kind of big fight recently, didn't they? If it was bad enough even we heard about it, then maybe. If he lost her it would explain why he's so sober so young, I suppose."

"And now he has a child to raise alone, on top of his loss. Poor boy."

Their voices faded behind him, and Lan Zhan breathed carefully through a wave of bitterness. He hadn't lost his cultivation partner. He'd barely even had a chance to understand that a partnership was what he wanted, before Wei Ying had been gone. Somehow that only made the pain bite deeper, the coldness of lost friendship turned razor-edged with lost chances, far sharper than the pain of his body.

Wen Yuan—Lan Yuan to be, he was determined—wriggled in his arms with a sleepy sound of protest, and Lan Zhan carefully relaxed his hold again, resettling a-Yuan in the fruit-vendor-approved manner, and paced slowly and steadily on.

The indulgent smiles that followed them suggested that he was starting to get this part correct, at least.

One Month After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

It took several weeks to recover enough from what his brother called his overexertion and their uncle referred to as his foolishness, to have visitors. Lan Zhan, still unable to sit upright for very long without a relapse into fever from the branding injuryâ€”or self injuryâ€”that he couldnâ€™t neither recall nor quite regret, stared at the bright smile on a-Yuanâ€™s small face and briefly entertained the thought that his relatives might feel he deserved some additional punishment.

â€œI canâ€™t pick you up right now,â€ he explained, using the low, calm voice that heâ€™d found most effective on the trip home to head off at least some of a-Yuanâ€™s inexplicable bouts of tears.

Apparently this was one of the times it would fail to work; a-Yuanâ€™s face crumpled.

Lan Zhan mentally thumbed through his list of tentative rules of child rearing, and could only come up with â€˜distract with a toyâ€™. He suddenly regretted raising the rabbits so far from his own rooms; surely rabbits would count as a toy. â€œWould you like to hear a story?â€ he essayed.

He knew a considerable number of stories of Lan history; surely one of them would be suitably diverting? Perhaps one of the stories of Lan Yi?

Wei Ying would like the stories of Lan Yi.

A-Yuan considered the offer like a seasoned bargainer in the market, and finally nodded, beaming again the way he had when Xichen-xiong had left the boy beside Lan Zhanâ€™s bed with a faint smile. Lan Zhan, after a moment of calculating how much pain was wearing on his strength today, held out one arm, flicking his fingers to beckon a-Yuan closer. With a-Yuan curled up, warm, against his side, he cast his mind back to some of his earliest lessons in Lan history and began, quietly, â€œWhen Lan Chen died, his daughter Lan Yi become the third leader of the Lan Sect...â€

A-Yuan listened quietly, and likely without much comprehension, to the tale of a chaotic time, of cultivators striving against each other as well as the spirits of malice they existed to quiet. Lan Zhan couldnâ€™t help comparing the steel determination of Lan Yi, to gain peace for those in her care, by any means necessary, to Wei Yingâ€™s willing descent into darkness, to guard those without the power to guard themselves.

He had been taught that Lan Yi had been regrettably extremist. That her methods had proven an undesirable path, one that led, in the end, to increased strife. But he couldnâ€™t help dwelling on her likely response to the Wen clan, and feeling that she would have come to the same conclusion that the current clan heads had, and have done it considerably more swiftly.

And would that not have been a good thing?

Lan Zhan looked down to see a-Yuan asleep against him, and now drooling on his robes. He sighed silently and gathered the boy closer, leaning back against his pillows. Wei Ying had acted, rather than wait, always, and he had acted at every turn with compassion. If also with an unfortunate tendency to show off. Yet even many of those he had protected had condemned him and the path he'd chosen. It was a dangerous one, Lan Zhan knew that, had seen that. Yet he was also very sure that many of Wei Ying's detractors spoke out of nothing but craven fear or resentment. Certainly the people who had left a-Yuan orphaned twice over and abandoned to die had behaved contemptibly. Could he say, then, that they were wholly wrong? Should he not have tried to turn Wei Ying from his path?

His uncle had taught him that the difference between right and wrong was as clear as the line between black and white, but he wondered more and more how his uncle could possibly believe that.

Eleven Months After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

Lan Zhan was getting quite tired of his confinement to his rooms, after almost a year, but had to admit that it was better to stay put than to court another collapse in the library or another month of fever as his body protested any overexertion. So he tried to rediscover the patience that he sometimes felt Wei Ying's death had snapped into pieces, counted the days only in terms of returning bits of strength, and accepted his visitors calmly as they came.

After his brother, his uncle came most frequently.

Those visits were most often discussions of technique, of refining Lan Zhan's mastery of the spiritual resonance that grew from the physical resonance of strings, or of picking apart the effects of the melodies brought back by many years of Lan disciples traveling abroad. Only rarely did they start to stray into physical applications that Lan Zhan wasn't recovered enough to execute. When they did, he thought he saw in his uncle's frowns the same tangle of regret and resentment that flicked at his own heart every day he was stuck in his bed.

And then, of course, there were the frowns that had nothing to do with Lan Zhan's transgressions or injuries. The one, for example, that answered a-Yuan bursting through Lan Zhan's entry in a billow of pale, new robes, trailing behind him the exasperated voice of the third cousin who'd volunteered to look after him while Lan Zhan recovered.

"A-Yuan, stop running! Lan Yuan, you come back he—" She broke off with what might have been a stifled squeak at the sight of Lan Qiren's forbidding look, and whispered urgently, "A-Yuan!"

A-Yuan ignored her to scamper to Lan Zhan's side and spin around on his toes, robes swishing through the air. "Ji-xiong, look!"

Lan Qiren looked, if possible, even more forbidding at the sound of that casually intimate name. Or perhaps it was at the streaks of mud along the hems of a-Yuan's robes.

"I see," Lan Zhan answered calmly, which he'd never lost the habit of, even once a-Yuan grew out of most tantrums. The simple acknowledgment still made a-Yuan beam happily at him.

"You should teach him more decorum, if you will insist on the boy being Lan," his uncle snapped, eyes lingering with definite disapproval on the mud. And then, low enough that Lan Zhan didnâ€™t think even he was supposed to hear it, and was sure a-Yuan and Lan Fang hadnâ€™t, â€œGlad you never used to be that much trouble, at least.â€

And Lan Zhan remembered with abrupt clarity that his uncle had given him exactly the same disapproving look that he was now giving a-Yuanâ€™s muddy hems whenever Lan Zhan had insisted on visiting his motherâ€™s house after her death. Yet, even as aggravated as Lan Qiren clearly still was over Lan Zhanâ€™s defense of Wei Ying, even as similar as this moment was to that one, his uncle didnâ€™t seem to remember. For a moment his mind felt blank with startlement, not knowing what to do with that. His uncle had always emphasized unfailing knowledge and memory of the rules of the Lan Discipline as the defining mark of Lan Zhan's accomplishment. But thisâ€”this truth of Lan Qiren's own heart and thoughtsâ€”his uncle didnâ€™t remember?

He'd thought their disagreement must be one of principles, or of interpretation of principles. But did his uncle not even attempt to practice the principles he'd demanded of Lan Zhan and his brother?

Lines he'd learned by heart, long ago, seared across his thoughts.

Learning comes first.

Do not say one thing and mean another.

Be easy on others.

Do not cause damage.

Do not give up on learning.

Do not break faith.

This shattering was far slower than the one in the Nightless City had been. That had been a breaking point all in an instant, when Lan Zhanâ€™s dedication to the Lan Discipline he'd been taught, above all, snapped in a single moment of time, with the momentum of all the six years before it. This was a slow widening of the blank instant of realization into an open field, in his heartâ€”the field of knowing his uncle's example was not simply one he could not follow. It was one he should not follow.

â€œLan Zhan?â€ Lan Qiren was frowning at him again, now. Lan Zhan took what felt like his first breath in rather a while.

â€œA-Yuan will learn, as he grows,â€ he said quietly, pushing himself up to his feet with only a brief twinge, today. â€œJust as I did.â€ He held a hand down to the boy and added to him, quietly, â€œItâ€™s important to keep your robes clean. It is part of having courtesy to others and respect for yourself.â€

A-Yuan looked up at him, eyes wide, and nodded, tucking his hand trustingly into Lan Zhanâ€™s. â€œBath?â€ he asked, with the simplicity his own harsh fever had left him with, still lagging a bit behind his age-mates in expression but somehow cutting to the core all the more directly, for that. Lan Zhan smiled, faintly.

â€œYes.â€

He led a-Yuan back to Lan Fang, who smiled at both of them gently, as she took the boyâ€™s other hand. â€œYou can visit tomorrow, a-Yuan,â€ she promised, with a glance at Lan Zhan to check. He nodded silently and she directed an approving look at him as much as at a-Yuan, as she led the boy away.

When he turned back, his uncle was watching him, eyes hard and level. â€œSpoiling the boy will lead to nothing good.â€

Lan Zhan looked back, just as level. â€œEarn trust,â€ he quoted from the Wall, though the emphasis was his own.

Lan Qirenâ€™s nostrils flared with his sharp inhale, and he stood with a jerk and strode out through the open screens.

Lan Zhan breathed again, slow and deep, feeling that open field in his mind and heart. If it was his duty to choose the truths that a-Yuan would grow with, then he chose the righteousness that challenged, rather than confined. The righteousness that Wei Ying had taught to him. Trust. Courage. Integrity. Chivalry. Kindness.

The strong will that could achieve anything.

This, he would believe in. This, he would seek out and demonstrate for the bright, young life he had snatched from the wreckage made by those of small mind and heart. He would follow this path, that was not a crooked one.

And perhaps, then, he would have enough peace in his heart to give to Wei Yingâ€™s spirit, when he found it.

Three Years After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

Lan Zhan did not normally consider himself easily distractible. Indeed, he was extensively trained in the meditative focus required for advanced cultivation, regardless of his surroundings. He had successfully maintained unwavering focus in face of violent weather, small mobs of townspeople, and ambush by powerfully malevolent spirits. A simple marketplace should have held nothing that could successfully distract him from his current task, especially when he was on his way to a hunt at his brother's side.

But the sight of a book-seller's stall had pulled up the memory of a-Yuan's softly disappointed expression, at hearing that no, the Lan library held no tales beyond the history of various Lan cultivators. The boy's downcast eyes and tiny "Oh." returned with crystal clarity and dragged at Lan Zhan's footsteps.

One of the books was titled The Adventures of He Jue.

"For Yuan-er?" his brother murmured, pausing at his shoulder. Lan Zhan could hear his brother's smile and pressed his lips together. Xichen-xiong laughed, just a faint breath between them, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "There's hardly any shame in taking good care of the life you've taken responsibility for."

Lan Zhan glanced at him sidelong. It wasn't the first time his brother had said something that suggested he didn't entirely agree with their uncle about some things. Perhaps Xichen-xiong was just subtler about it than Lan Zhan; his brother had always been better at that. Xichen-xiong just smiled and patted his shoulder gently. Lan Zhan thought about the smile his brother had managed never to quite lose, and about a-Yuan's smile, quieter now than it had been a few years ago, now that he'd grown old enough to begin absorbing something of Lan decorum and reserve, but still sweet and warm.

He thought of the last look he'd seen on Wei Ying's face, still smiling for them even with heartbreak in his eyes.

He picked up The Adventures of He Jue and turned decisively to the book seller. "How much?" He pretended to not notice the way his brother's smile warmed a little, but felt comforted in his decision anyway. It was easy, after all, to decide that he would preserve whatever he could of what Wei Ying's compassion had given to the world. Taking another concrete step to bring up a-Yuan less as he'd been raised and more like the friend who had challenged Lan Zhan to look beyond the decisions of those who had come before... that was harder. Worthwhile, he was convinced of that, but still hard to step firmly along that path under the eyes of his clan.

Perhaps it was because he was already thinking on what might be correct and yet outside (or perhaps further within) the precedent of the rules of Lan Discipline, but another title caught his eye as he tucked the adventure tale into his pouch.

"Wangji?" Xichen-xiong actually sounded shocked this time. Lan Zhan's face heated, but he couldn't quite drag his eyes away from -sitions of the Flower Battle peeking out, perhaps appropriately, from underneath another book. The memory of bright, delighted laughter rang in his ears, laughter he had most definitely not appreciated at the time. Now, though...

"I still owe it to Nie Huaisang to replace his belonging," he stated, just as evenly as he could. "Even if it was Wei Wuxian's prank, I was the one who destroyed it."

"How very... diligent of you." His brother's voice was a bit choked, but Lan Zhan thought it was with amusement rather than outrage. Xichen-xiong wouldn't have alluded to one of the Rules, if he really disapproved.

Lan Zhan's expression was once again perfectly smooth as he plucked the book out of its stack and turned again to the book seller. "How much?"

This one, though, he would not be showing to a-Yuan.

Five Years After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

As he sat and listened to his brother easily bending the visiting cultivators to his wishes with little more than a gentle smile and a few courteous words to each, Lan Zhan couldn't help dwelling just a bit on the fact that Xichen-xiong seemed to have gotten at least two generations worth of skill with people all to himself. Certainly their uncle didn't show much evidence of the skill, and he didn't remember it being notable in their father either.

He certainly didn't have it. By this stage in the months-long campaign to convince all the mid-size sect leaders to build and mind the watchtowers in their territories, he'd have long since given up in exasperation and gone to build the things himself just to escape the interminable arguments.

Xichen-xiong was directing that smile at Yao Xianghai, now. "Your devotion to justice is well known, Sect Leader Yao. That you support this project, to give all people the protection they deserve, will be invaluable."

Yao Xianghai immediately stopped looking dubious and instead straightened his shoulders and smoothed down his mustache. "Certainly, certainly! It's only the right thing to do."

Lan Zhan considered what Wei Ying would have said about this, which was rapidly becoming his first resort for getting through the various convocations, and allowed himself an internal scoff on Wei Ying's behalf. Fortunately it only took a few more minutes of his brother smiling at hypocrites to secure everyone's agreement, and then Lan Zhan could usher them out.

He almost tripped over a-Yuan, who had apparently been watching silently from the edge of the open screens. Lan Zhan's brows rose; he would never have suspected a-Yuan of being interested in the politics of cultivation, but the boy's face was bright as he watched them all emerge.

"Sizhui?" Lan Zhan beckoned him a little aside, nodding for Lan Chunhua to come and take the visitors off his hands. She had a much better serene smile, in any case, an approach their visitors seemed to be enjoying.

"Wangji-xiong, is that why we're supposed to always be courteous?" a-Yuan asked, sounding very enthusiastic. "So everyone agrees with us?"

Lan Zhan almost said 'yes' and had to take a moment to compose himself. Possibly he'd been spending a little too much time, lately, thinking of what Wei Ying would say. "Courtesy is what we all deserve from each other," he supplied instead, which had been his brother's answer to a similar question. A-Yuan nodded attentively, and he ventured to add, "Respect for others is a good habit." Another nod, bright eyes fixed on him with silent expectation, and he finally admitted, "It does help ensure people respond to you promptly, if you must direct them clear of a malevolent spirit."

A-Yuan beamed and mustered a formal bow for him. "Thank you for the lesson, Wangji-xiong!"

As he scampered off, Lan Zhan wondered if it was normal for a child's family to feel trepidation over any unexpected excitement.

When he came across a-Yuan, a few days later, easily herding the hot-tempered Lan Jingyi through their chores with nothing but a sweet, expectant smile, he couldn't help feeling his trepidation had been justified. But he also had to hide a chuckle.

Wei Ying would definitely have laughed.

Eight Years After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

Lan Zhan stood at the back of the hall of instruction and silently watched as his uncle led the newest junior disciples through a recitation of the qin language. A-Yuan sat near the front, straight and attentive; Lan Zhan was unsurprised that he named without error every note played. A-Yuan had been fascinated with the language of notes ever since he realized there could be meaning, as well as spiritual resonance, in the notes and chords Lan Zhan taught him.

It was almost impossible, these days, to see the grubby, enthusiastic toddler Lan Zhan had first met in the polite and collected young Lan Sizhui. It really only showed in the brightness of his eyes, when he understood something. That, and perhaps his determination.

"...taken together form brief but comprehensible sentences. Lan Wangji, the sentence just played was what?"

The strictness of his personal training prevented Lan Zhan from either starting or floundering at the sudden question. "Are you man or woman. One of the most useful questions when the spirit has forgotten its own name."

Lan Qiren swept on with the lesson, with no indication that such a prompt and thorough answer was anything but utterly expected, and delivered a stern glare to any disciple who suddenly rustled or looked over his shoulder at Lan Zhan. A-Yuan didn't look around, and Lan Zhan found himself torn between approval for a-Yuan's self-discipline and regret that his natural streak of mischief seemed to have been tamed at last. He tried to settle on approval. That, at least, would help a-Yuan here, in the heart of what was now his own clan.

And then slight movement caught his eye.

A-Yuan, still looking becomingly attentive and thoughtful, was forming silent chords with his fingers on the writing-table in front of him.

Greetings

Lan Zhan's brows lifted a hair. That was actually an unusual one; most spirits were beyond pleasantries. Greeting was only recommended for when one suspected one was dealing with a divine spirit.

How are you?

The silent chording stumbled a little over that. Lan Zhan wasn't surprised. It was a combination of two separate phrases, only one of which a-Yuan would have had much practice with, yet. He still found himself having to conceal a smile. Perhaps a-Yuan retained more of the child he'd been than Lan Zhan had thought.

He stayed to the end of the lesson, when his uncle finally allowed the disciples to get up and flock around Lan Zhan. A-Yuan slipped through the little crowd to look up at him, eyes bright. "W—" A-Yuan's glance flickered toward Lan Qiren, and he swiftly amended Lan Zhan's name to a very respectful, "Hanguang-jun?"

Lan Zhan smiled faintly. "I'm well," he answered the silent question a-Yuan had played. The brilliant smile a-Yuan broke into definitely reminded him of the child's response to that first butterfly toy.

Perhaps the courtesy name he'd chosen for a-Yuan would be more than a wistful hope, after all. Perhaps some memory of the lives Wei Ying had snatched away from the world's hatred would continue.

And if that recollection was sheltered by Lan... well then, perhaps Lan Zhan would think he hadn't utterly failed his own heart, after all, despite the long years with no sign of Wei Ying's spirit.

He paced quietly through the walkways of the Cloud Recesses, with the juniors' soft, eager questions swirling around him, and let that thought settle into the deep places inside him.

Thirteen Years After the Destruction of the Burial Mounds

Lan Zhan sternly suppressed an absurd urge to straighten a-Yuan's robes. They were already perfectly straight; a-Yuan looked every bit the composed Lan junior disciple, prepared to lead a night-hunt on his own for the first time. And if Lan Qiren might have sniffed over the eager brightness of a-Yuan's eyes, well that was only one of the things Lan Zhan had come to disagree with his uncle about.

"The Mo family is known to have a good deal of pride," he said, instead.

A-Yuan's mouth tucked up at the corners for a moment before he nodded earnestly. "I'll be sure to watch over Jingyi."

At that, Lan Zhan had to stifle a brief laugh, and he suspected a-Yuan saw it, from the way the boy smiled. "I'm sure you will be a credit to Xichen-xiongzhang," he said blandly, and watched a-Yuan duck his head, smile turning shy and pleased. "I will be in the area."

A-Yuan sobered at that and nodded obediently. "If there is a spirit beyond our strength to deal with, I'll signal."

Lan Zhan nodded back, satisfied, and watched a-Yuan pace down the paths toward the gates with every appearance of grave dignity. It was ridiculous, he told himself, to feel nervous on behalf of an accomplished and responsible junior. But perhaps he'd stay relatively close to their hunt. Just in case.

Besides, if there was any living soul Wei Ying's spirit might return to, surely it was the child who preserved as much of his brightness as might be had in this world.

End

Not Quite There

Two summons that Wei Wuxian ignores, and one he doesn't quite. Drama, Angst, 1-2

"...ghosts...the Yiling Patriarch...Wei Wuxian!"

Yanked toward the edge of manifestation (again), Wei Wuxian dug in his immaterial heels (again) and reflected that he might actually have made it to the underworld if it weren't that humans had an apparently unending need for someone to blame for everything. Other people's ghosts, the weather, the price of vegetables, he'd even had a couple floods blamed on him. If resentment actually had sufficiently overcome him for him to desire catastrophe and destruction, he'd very likely have been able to accomplish quite a lot of it purely on the strength of the representations and stories passed around among peasants, lords, and cultivators alike. They were almost as good as an ancestral tablet, if far darker in the sustenance they offered.

Their influence would have been a lot easier to resist if he'd had an actual tablet.

Well, wishing wouldn't do him any good, and dwelling on that right now could do a lot of harm. So failing a proper anchor, he thought hard on the memory of a nice, long breath and focused himself on more personal talismans instead.

Lotus seeds.

The sensation of drawing back his bow.

Lan Zhan's exasperated expression, which was all in the tilt of his brows and the faint thinning of his lips.

The notes of Clarity.

He leaned on the memory of Clarity a lot, these days (whatever days these were). It wasn't as good as feeling the resonance of the actual music, but it helped. The memory that someone had cared enough to play it for him helped to block the dark current of too many people shaping his name toward hatred. He knew that, if he truly needed the help, even now, he could probably (probably) find Lan Zhan and hear this song again. He was trying to be less trouble for his few surviving friends, though, so instead he focused his will and kicked away the rich current of resentment trying to coil into him.

Besides, he was way more stubborn than anybody who needed someone else to blame for the resentment they'd probably roused themselves.

Wei Wuxian, perched on top of a mountain to enjoy a summer storm, which was a very different experience as a wandering ghost than it had been as a living person, felt a tug on the fabric of his spirit and curled his lip. That was pathetic. It felt as if he'd maybe gotten a lady's scarf blown against him by a strong wind.

Honestly, was it just him or were the spirit summoning rituals that happened for him a few times every year getting weaker? Half the time, they were using arrays he'd designed himself; surely they could do better than this!

Admittedly, he hadn't let himself be dragged close enough to check the arrays for a while now. It was only entertaining the first handful of times, to flirt with the drag of other spirits and wills on his own, to prove to himself that he was still stronger than the idiots who feared him.

He sighed, letting the energy of the storm crackle over and through him, sharp and heavy, distracting him from the tug of summoning. The ones trying to summon him were never anyone he actually wanted to see.

(The time he'd seen Jiang Cheng there had been the last time he'd let a summoning draw him close.)

At first he wasn't even sure what it was. It didn't feel like a summoning. It felt like someone calling his name, but not the way pretty much everyone called it these days.

More like the way Wen Qing had once said it, desperate and furious and terrified and out of any other option.

That was probably why he turned toward it instead of pulling back, as was pretty well reflex by now.

And then there was darkness and heaviness, and opening his eyes. For the first time in probably quite a few years...

He opened his eyes.

End

There You Are

Some yes-we-are-together smut, immediately after the end. Porn, Romance, Fluff, I-4

So, while costuming may suggest that WWX is returning to LWJ after a little road trip, at the very end of ep 50, I was way too outraged to notice that the first time around. Instead I spent the last five minutes basically shrieking at the screen variations on "Don't you dare, you absolute fuckers, oh my god!" and similar. That was my first response. My second, upon getting the last five seconds, was to mutter dire things about screenwriters who think they're clever, and to write some together-after-all smut, to soothe the emotional "no no no no no!" of the first response. So, for everyone else who lost their shit at the ending and did not recover enough for nuance for quite some time, if ever... this story is for you. For everyone else, most of it will read well enough if you assume LWJ came to find WWX on the road at some point.

I am also much indebted to my sometime brain-share partner, Lys ap Adin, for several gestures in here, which my LWJ immediately latched on to.

By the time they got to the next town, Wei Wuxian felt severely off balance. Hearing Lan Zhan's voice at his back, just when he'd been finishing what he'd expected to be another goodbye, had sent such a shock through him that he'd had to take a moment just to breathe before he'd dared to turn around, and for another moment he'd thought the sight of Lan Zhan, solid and present and returning to him would knock him off the edge of that cliff.

He'd hesitated again, when they'd reached the road, weight shifting on his toes, not knowing whether Lan Zhan had meant to join him or for him to join Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan hadn't looked like he'd noticed, but he'd taken a calm and deliberate step in the direction Wei Wuxian had been headed, and Little Apple had cheerfully yanked him along that way.

And when Wei Wuxian glanced between the lowering sun and the town's inn, Lan Zhan just as calmly turned them toward the inn.

He supposed he was glad one of them was sure of what he was doing, right now.

When they were finally settled in one of the second floor rooms, been assured of fresh blankets, had the virtues of the kitchen extolled to them, and were finally alone in the cool, blue shadows of early evening, Wei Wuxian found himself once again at a loss for what he should be doing. This had not been on his mental road-map at all. Oh, he'd turned over the idea of dragging Lan Zhan out and about with him, over the past few weeks, and also the thought of descending on the Cloud Recesses to shake the place up a little. But never for Lan Zhan to be the one to follow him, to reach out for him the way he was reaching out this very moment, fingers tracing lightly over Wei Wuxian's cheek and trailing down his jaw, gentle and warm and oh...

Oh.

He stepped slowly closer, hands stealing out to slide under Lan Zhan's outer robe and rest on his hips. "Lan Zhan?" He could hear the huskiness in his own voice.

"You broke my grip once," Lan Zhan said, voice as low and calm as ever on words that made Wei Wuxian's heart twist. "I don't wish to let you do so again."

Wei Wuxian swallowed, feeling like his heart was trying to climb his throat, and perhaps beat its way right out of him. "Are you sure?" he asked, finding a grin, even if he was fairly sure it didn't make it to his eyes. "Everyone will wonder how much the Yiling Patriarch is corrupting the new Chief Cultivator--" He broke off, blinking at the sudden press of a finger against his lips.

"You are not a force for corruption." The firmness of that statement made Wei Wuxian's throat tight again.

"Lan Zhan," he said, softly, lips brushing against Lan Zhan's finger, because he appreciated Lan Zhan's confidence in him, and he shared it of course, but they both knew what the rest of the world thought. Lan Zhan's eyes narrowed a hair.

"Stubborn."

That made him laugh. "Always." Lan Zhan actually huffed, faintly, and he laughed again, relaxing into the familiarity. It slipped a little sideways when Lan Zhan smiled and took a tiny step closer, cupping his hands around Wei Wuxianâ€™s face. That was familiar, sure, but only from daydreams. Never with the sensation of sword- and string-callouses against his skin, or the realization that he could feel Lan Zhanâ€™s body heat, standing this close.

â€œWei Ying.â€

Entranced by the faint curve to Lan Zhanâ€™s lips, which he still wasn't used to seeing, it took him a minute to notice that Lan Zhanâ€™s eyes had tracked down to his own mouth. When he did, though, he couldnâ€™t help smiling, slow and bright, and draping his arms over Lan Zhanâ€™s shoulders.

"So, you are sure?" he asked, leaning in a little. Lan Zhan's eyes slid back up to his, steady but also fiercely intent, even heated.

"Yes." And then he waited, very still.

â€œThen yes,â€ Wei Wuxian answered, pleased, and leaned in the last little bit to kiss Lan Zhan.

It had been quite a while since he'd kissed someone, even if he didn't count those years when he was a wandering ghost, but he was still pretty sure he'd never felt with anyone else the surge of tingling warmth from head to toes, that answered when cool lips parted under his. He wanted this. He'd wanted this for a long time. Wanted the soft slide of Lan Zhan's tongue against his and the sight of long lashes against the curve of Lan Zhan's cheek as he closed his eyes.

It was the way Lan Zhan's hands spread against his back, though, that made his breath catch--a slow, careful caress that pressed him gently closer. So careful of him, like Lan Zhan held something fragile and precious, and that plucked at a thread of wanting deep inside him, set his insides shaking. "Lan Zhan," he said softly, against Lan Zhan's mouth, not quite sure of what he could say to give form to that want.

Lan Zhan dropped another kiss at the corner of his mouth and drew back to look at him, sober and level, long fingers stroking down the line of Wei Wuxian's folded collars to rest on his sash. "Let me?" he asked, quietly.

Another wave of heat washed over Wei Wuxian like a flood-wave down the river, and he had to swallow before he could answer, "Yeah."

Wei Wuxian had never considered himself shy, nor had anyone else who'd spent more than five breaths in his presence. But he was finding himself unable to face head on the careful slowness of Lan Zhan's hands undressing him, slipping each layer off and folding it aside, the soft, steady weight of Lan Zhan's eyes on him, looking like he was unwrapping some artwork that had been dropped and finding it miraculously whole. His gaze slid aside from Lan Zhan's and his breath turned short and uneven. "Lan Zhan..."

White swept around him like a snow flurry, but Lan Zhan's arms, holding him, were warm. He buried his nose in Lan Zhan's shoulder with a faint laugh, mostly at himself, winding his arms tight around Lan Zhan in turn. After a breath to recover his balance and insouciance, he added, a bit muffled "Now you're overdressed."

"In a moment," Lan Zhan said quietly against his ear, fingers sliding slowly through his hair. Wei Wuxian was more than willing to seize that moment and bask in the simple pleasure of being petted, relaxing against the straight line of Lan Zhan's body with a pleased little sound. It was soothing. It felt... secure. When Lan Zhan's fingers traced down his spine, he arched a bit with the touch, smiling slow and lazy.

And then he had to laugh at the clear satisfaction in the faint curl of Lan Zhan's mouth. "You like being able to make me relax?" he teased.

"Yes," Lan Zhan answered, so simply that Wei Wuxian couldn't help kissing him again. This time, Lan Zhan held him firmly and kissed back with a slow-opening hunger that sent heat curling low in Wei Wuxian's stomach. He decided that 'a moment' had arrived, and started pushing those flowing robes off Lan Zhan's shoulders, working loose pale blue sashes while he sucked on Lan Zhan's lower lip. It took an unreasonable amount of undressing to get down to skin, exactly the way he'd always figured it would, but feeling how Lan Zhan's hands tightened on him, fingers digging into the muscle of his back, when he did was absolutely worth it. He loved feeling Lan Zhan react to him like this, so openly.

"You like holding me too, hm?" he purred, wrapping around Lan Zhan and kissing down his jaw. "Have you ever wanted to hold me down? Feel me under you?" He nibbled on Lan Zhan's ear, mouth curling in a wicked grin. "Wanted to fuck me?"

"Sometimes, yes." Lan Zhan's voice was a bit hoarse, now, and his hands spread against Wei Wuxian's back, sliding slowly up, unmistakably possessive. "I always wanted to hold you. To keep you with me."

The sweetness of knowing he was wanted like that, of hearing and feeling it, took his breath, and he pressed closer. It took another moment to unlock his throat, and it came out husky when he said, "Then I'm yours, Lan Zhan."

When Lan Zhan's arms tightened around him, this time, they drove most of his breath out, and the fierce demand of Lan Zhan's mouth on his stole what was left. Wei Wuxian wrapped himself around Lan Zhan, welcoming it, kissing back with open want to match Lan Zhan's own, a little dizzy with the relief of knowing it was matched. The relief made it easy to relax into Lan Zhan's hold, to move with him when he shifted toward the bed, to sink down without letting go. "My own," Lan Zhan whispered against his mouth, and Wei Wuxian laughed, soft and breathless.

"All yours," he agreed, sliding his hands up into Lan Zhan's hair, drawing him down to another devouring kiss. The long, slow strokes of Lan Zhan's hands up and down his body drew pleased little noises out of him, and he hooked a leg around Lan Zhan's, fitting them together. Lan Zhan's hand slid down to curve around his ass, and Lan Zhan drew back just far enough to look at him, eyes dark and steady.

"Wei Ying. May I?"

It was warmth that surged through him like a flood-wave this time, and Wei Wuxian smiled, soft and free, with how good it felt, Lan Zhan's care. "Yeah. Anything you want." And then practicalities nudged at his brain. "Oh, but hang on..." He looked around to see if his bag was in reach.

Lan Zhan leaned over with a perfectly straight face to fish a small bottle out of his bag, and Wei Wuxian burst into delighted laughter.

"Looks like I've been an excellent influence already!"

Lan Zhan looked down at him with a faint, rueful curve to his lips, and such warmth in his eyes that it stole Wei Wuxian's breath again, sent him reaching up to trace that tiny, gentle smile, eyes wide with the wonder of it being for him. "Lan Zhan..."

Lan Zhan kissed his fingers softly and answered with absolute certainty, "Wei Ying." It was reassurance and acceptance all wrapped up in the name he never heard from anyone else, and he pressed closer, arms winding tight around Lan Zhan.

"Yours," he said softly, against Lan Zhan's mouth, purring as Lan Zhan promptly gathered him up close again. "Mm, yeah."

Lan Zhan flicked the bottle's stopper out one handed, not letting go of Wei Wuxian even for that, which he approved of greatly. He approved even more of how good it felt when long, slick fingers pressed between his cheeks, rubbing his entrance slow and firm. Lan Zhan watched him, eyes intent on his face, as he rubbed slowly harder, fingers working gradually past the tightness of muscle to press in. Lan Zhan definitely seemed to know what he was doing, and the rush of heat that answered that thought made Wei Wuxian light-headed. He let himself relax into Lan Zhan's hands, breath coming deeper as Lan Zhan's fingers pressed deeper, stretching him open slow and sure, and when Lan Zhan worked his knuckles gently back and forth through Wei Wuxian's entrance he moaned out loud with how good it felt.

Lan Zhan's eyes on him were bright and intent, burning hot, and his voice was deeper than usual when he asked, "Now?"

Wei Wuxian thought about being stretched open harder, and a hot shiver walked up his spine. "Yes."

Lan Zhan turned to press him down against the covers but seemed very reluctant to let go long enough to get any further, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down Wei Wuxian's throat.

"Nn, Lan Zhan, ahh... come on." A tiny pause was his only warning before Lan Zhan bit down, careful but firm enough to mark skin. Wei Wuxian lost all his breath on a low groan, bucking up against him, abruptly hard and hot. "Yes...!" He coiled around Lan Zhan, grinding against him more deliberately this time, pleased by the shudder he could feel roll through Lan Zhan. He turned his head to purr against Lan Zhan's ear, deliberately inciteful, "I want you inside me, Lan Zhan."

The sound Lan Zhan made was nearly a growl, and Wei Wuxian laughed, soft and breathless and delighted with the knowledge that Lan Zhan wanted him this much. When a hand wrapped around his hip and urged him over, long fingers digging into his skin, he turned willingly, stretching out on his stomach. Lan Zhan didn't draw back, though, didn't pull his hips up the way he'd expected. Instead, he stretched out beside Wei Wuxian and gathered him back into the curve of his body as he curled around Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian found himself easing back against Lan Zhan with a soft oh.

It felt good. Warm. He could feel Lan Zhan's cock sliding between his cheeks, and he still wanted more of that, but he could also feel all of Lan Zhan wrapped around him like a promise of support, even of shelter, and he smiled helplessly, snuggling back against him. "Now?" he asked.

"Now," Lan Zhan agreed against his shoulder, one hand sliding down Wei Wuxian's thigh, pushing it gently up to spread him out a little, and all over again he found himself relaxing into the clear care of Lan Zhanâ€™s touch.

And in that moment of unwinding, Lan Zhan pushed into him.

Wei Wuxian moaned out loud at the hard stretch and slide of Lan Zhanâ€™s cock sinking into him, eyes falling closed as the surge of sensation drew out long until Lan Zhan stilled against his back, breathing short and hard against his ear, all the way inside him.

â€œMmm, yes.â€ Wei Wuxian ground his ass against Lan Zhanâ€™s hips in a tight little circle, wanting to feel that fullness more. Lan Zhanâ€™s arms tightened hard, around him, and Lan Zhan jerked back to drive in again. The motion felt even better, and Wei Wuxian made encouraging noises that broke into gasps as Lan Zhan held him close and fucked him, every stroke pounding in deep, like Lan Zhan wanted to push through his skin to hold him tighter still. It felt incredible, and Wei Wuxian sank himself into the sensation, let pleasure shudder up his spine and shake him in Lan Zhanâ€™s arms, let it drive open moans and snatches of encouragement out of his throat, yes, and perfect, and please, until Lan Zhan made a half-desperate sound against his ear and reached down to close long fingers, just barely still slick, tight around his cock, stroking him roughly. The jolt of pleasure sent Wei Wuxian bucking wildly in his arms, eyes wide and blind with the rush of heat bursting through him. He felt like it might shake him to pieces, and only Lan Zhanâ€™s hold was keeping him together, that hold and the low moan that told him Lan Zhan was here with him.

When the surge of pleasure finally ebbed into sharp little aftershocks, his throat was dry from panting for breath and Lan Zhan was shuddering against his back. â€œWei Ying.â€

It was a tone heâ€™d never heard from Lan Zhan before, low and caressing, and his heart tried to climb his throat again. He slid a hand down to cover Lan Zhan's, on his stomach, tangling their fingers together, and hoped he'd heard what he thought he did. "Yeah," he agreed, husky. "All yours."

Lan Zhan made a satisfied sound and cradled him closer, and Wei Wuxian breathed out slowly, relief that he'd been right tangling with amazement that Lan Zhan really did want him this much, this openly. He lifted their laced hands and pressed a kiss to Lan Zhan's knuckles. Lan Zhan made a tiny, questioning sound, and leaned up on an elbow, tugging him gently over and looking down at him with intent, thoughtful eyes. Finally he said, softly, "I want, very much, to be with you. Always."

That moment on the cliff came back to Wei Wuxian all in a rush, the shock of Lan Zhan's voice, of Lan Zhan following him, coming back to him, going with him, and it felt like a hand squeezing his lungs. He swallowed hard, trying to find words to return, anything that could come close to the wonder and hurt and joy tangled up in his chest at this moment, but he couldn't. He never could find the right words for these things, and that choked his breath shorter.

"Ah." Lan Zhan reached out and gathered Wei Wuxian into his arms and just held him, one hand sliding up into his hair to press Wei Wuxian's head down against Lan Zhan's shoulder. Wei Wuxian wound his arms around Lan Zhan's ribs and hoped the tightness of his hold said what he needed it to while he brought his breathing back under control.

When he realized that Lan Zhan was rocking him, just a little, he couldn't help laughing, and that dissolved the last of the tightness in his chest. Out of that release, he finally managed to say, on a soft sigh, "I love you."

Lan Zhan's arms tightened around him, hard enough to drive his breath out, and yeah, he thought this was a pretty clear way to communicate. And then Lan Zhan spoke, and he stilled, shocked. "I have loved you for much longer than I knew what it was I felt. I'm sorry it took me so long to understand."

Wei Wuxian lifted his head and stared at Lan Zhan, eyes wide. Lan Xichen had said Lan Zhan had loved him, even that far back, but Wei Wuxian could read between the lines pretty well when he had a reason to, and the story of their father and mother had been one of guilt and shame, as much as love. He'd thought that was probably about right, back then; that if Lan Zhan had loved him, it had been through guilt. He'd thought it couldn't be the same feeling as now, because if it was that kind of feeling...

...then Lan Zhan wouldn't have come back to walk Wei Wuxian's road.

Suddenly, every broken Lan rule along their journey turned and fell into a new shape. Not simply necessity, and not just indulgence, no, that had been a deliberate step each time, Lan Zhan choosing over and over to walk Wei Wuxian's road beside him. Another laugh shook him, soft and breathless and astonished, and he wound himself tighter around Lan Zhan, whispering against his ear, "Me too. I didn't see what you meant." He buried yet another half-shocked laugh in Lan Zhan's shoulder. "I'm an idiot. We match so well."

Lan Zhan huffed softly at that, still holding him close, and Wei Wuxian smiled. If Lan Zhan would be with him, always with him... he felt like the whole world was opening up around him. Not broader, because he'd always walked where he pleased, but deeper, with the promise of at least one place to stand where he would truly belong.

Beside Lan Zhan. Wherever they went.

"Lan Zhaaaan," he sing-songed in Lan Zhan's ear, feeling a wicked grin tug at his mouth, "can we go back to the Cloud Recesses? Your uncle's getting old, right? It'll be good for him to get his blood moving."

He didn't hear a sound, in response, but pressed this close, he could feel the single short breath of Lan Zhan's laugh, and snuggled closer, satisfied. Yes.

He could belong here.

End

The Heart of the Matter

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi and their growing partnership, before and after canon. Porn, Romance, Fluff, I-4

Before

Sizhui had always been fascinated by the collection of Lan writings about the history and disciplines of their clan. They were so varied. Some were chilly and precise, some were zealous, and some, in Sizhui's opinion, really wanted to go back and be monks and not deal with worldly matters at all. All of them, though, seemed to stumble when they tried to talk about intimacy and passion, and started talking around the details. It was really quite frustrating for a studious young man who just wanted to learn. So, in pursuit of learning, which the clan rules enjoined them all to in any case, Sizhui had put together the things he'd noticed his foster father never forbid, done a little personal research, and concluded that yes, he probably did want to do this with his best friend. More importantly, if the way Jingyi's eyes lingered on Sizhui's mouth and the way his ears then turned red were anything to judge by, Jingyi wanted the same thing.

So, really, all Sizhui had to do was wait for Jingyi to be ready.

Patiently.

Really, quite patiently.

They were in the bath house, scrubbing off after some extra evening practice of their sword forms when Jingyi's sidelong glances finally resolved into words.

Honestly, it was just a good thing Sizhui got plenty of practice interpreting the small nuances of expression from his foster father.

"Hey. Sizhui?" Jingyi scrubbed industriously at one leg. "You know how the Lan Discipline says not to wallow in pleasure?"

He seemed to run out of words, there, and Sizhui hid his smile by reaching around to soap his back. "Yes?" he prompted.

"Well." Now Jingyi was scrubbing between his toes with great concentration. "That means some pleasure is okay, right?" His eyes slid sidelong toward Sizhui. "Have you ever...?"

"Not with anyone else." Sizhui slanted his own glance at Jingyi, under his lashes. "Did you want to?"

Jingyi promptly turned red, but there was also the glint in his eyes that often preceded his most entertaining ideas. And frequently Sizhui having to talk their way out of trouble, but if he minded that he wouldn't be best friends with Lan Jingyi, after all. "I was thinking about it," Jingyi admitted, with the artless honestly that Sizhui had always liked in him.

"Well, then." Sizhui left off working up lather in one hand, since he thought he'd got enough now, and stepped over to curl his other hand around the back of Jingyi's neck. "Let's," he murmured and tugged Jingyi close enough to kiss.

It took a breath for Jingyi to stop grinning, but when he did the slide of lips against lips turned soft and warm, and Sizhui could absolutely see why people did this. Jingyi's hands closed around his hips, tentative at first and then firmer when Sizhui made an approving sound into his mouth. Body against body was a little awkward, a little bit of angles bumping against each other, but he liked being so close; it felt good. He slid his soapy hand down Jingyi's chest and gently over his stomach, halting when he felt Jingyi's breath stutter. "May I?" he asked softly.

Jingyi pulled back enough to look at him, eyes wide. "I, um." He swallowed and huffed out a laugh. "Yeah."

Sizhui smiled back and wrapped his hand around Jingyi's cock. He was a little surprised by how different it felt, doing this for someone else, from doing it for himself. The smooth texture of Jingyi's cock against his palm, and the way he hardened in Sizhui's hand, caught at his senses without his own pleasure to distract from them. The way Jingyi gasped, hands tightening sharply on Sizhui's hips, the way his lips parted under Sizhui's, pulled at his attention, made him listen closely as he stroked Jingyi, trying to tell what he liked.

Jingyi definitely seemed to like a firm grip, that made him moan low in his throat, and Sizhui smiled as he kissed Jingyi again, coaxing; he might have known. Jingyi's hips rocked up into it, when Sizhui turned his wrist, fingertips pressing down the underside of Jingyi's cock. "Sizhui!" he gasped, and Sizhui pressed closer, hand moving faster. He liked hearing Jingyi like this; liked knowing he was part of Jingyi's pleasure. It was like the first time they'd worked as a pair during a night-hunt, relying on each other, on how well they knew each other—like that, only with a hotter, heavier edge.

"I've got you," he told Jingyi softly, out of that feeling, and drew in a quick, startled breath at the shudder that rolled through Jingyi in response, the way his cock pulsed against Sizhui's palm as he came, swaying, hands flashing up to catch Sizhui's shoulders. Sizhui pulled him close, arm tight around his waist, and said again, more certain, "I've got you."

"Yeah," Jingyi said against his neck, a little hoarse. "Yeah." After another breath or two, he added, "Wow."

Sizhui laughed softly, holding him close. Something gleeful curled through his chest, like triumph but lighter, sweeter. Jingyi laughed with him, getting his feet under him again, hands sliding down Sizhui's arms. "So," he ducked his head a little, smiling. "Your turn?"

"I'd like that." Sizhui thought he'd probably like it very much; he was already more than half hard, just from touching Jingyi.

Jingyi looked around and tugged Sizhui toward the nearest bath bench. "Come here." He sat and tugged on Sizhui's hands again, grinning up at him. Sizhui's face was a little hot as he settled himself over Jingyi's legs, straddling his lap, but it did feel nice when Jingyi's arms settled around him. He slid closer, experimentally, and made a pleased sound at how nicely they did fit together, like this, his arms draped over Jingyi's shoulders, Jingyi's face tipped up to kiss him.

When Jingyiâ€™s fingers stroked over his cock, Sizhuiâ€™s breath drew in sharply and a tingle of heat rushed through him head to toe. He hadnâ€™t realized how intense it would feel, to be touched by another, to feel such an intimate caress and not know quite what it would do next, keeping the awareness at the front of his thoughtsâ€”this was someone else touching him. â€œOh.â€

â€œIs it good?â€ Jingyi asked, and Sizhui smiled, remembering how much heâ€™d liked knowing exactly that. He leaned against Jingyi.

â€œVery good.â€ He bit his lip at the thought that came next, but it felt right, so he murmured against Jingyiâ€™s ear, â€œA little harder?â€

This close, he could hear the way Jingyi swallowed. His arm tightened around Sizhui and his hand tightened around Sizhuiâ€™s cock, and oh but that felt good. â€œMm, yes,â€ Sizhui agreed, increasingly breathless. â€œRight there,â€ as Jingyiâ€™s fingers stroked back behind his balls before sweeping up again, â€œdo that again!â€

Pleasure curled through him, hot and heavy, and he let his eyes slide closed to concentrate on sensation, found his arms winding tight around Jingyi's shoulders as Jingyi stroked him, found the encouraging words he meant to offer getting jumbled and husky. "Ahh, yes... further down oh, yes...!"

When the heat burst through him it was sweet and intense and swept up all his senses for long moments. He was very glad, when it ebbed, to feel Jingyi's arm tight around him. For a while all he wanted to do was lean against his friend and be supported while his senses settled. When he thought he could manage coherent words again, he murmured against Jingyi's temple, "Thank you." He could feel it, against his own cheek, when Jingyi's face heated.

"You too. I mean. You're welcome?"

Sizhui smiled, easing back a little, only to pause and glance down. Jingyi was half-hard again, already. Sizhui's smile tugged wider. "You liked me telling you what to do that much?" he teased gently.

Jingyi sputtered, and finally huffed, looking aside as he settled both arms around Sizhui's hips. "Well. That's not any different than usual, is it?"

Sizhui laughed. And people wondered why he was such good friends with Jingyi. They fit together, was all.

This way, too.

He leaned back in for a soft kiss. "Let's finish getting cleaned up, then."

Jingyi grinned up at him, eyes glinting. "You know, I bet the waterfalls around back don't have many people passing by."

"It's probably been a while since anyone inspected the bounds there, then," Sizhui pointed out, obliging, as he stood and reached for the soap again. "We should check on that."

Jingyi laughed as he poured one of the rinse basins over himself, shaking wet hair back. "Good idea."

The familiar warmth of knowing they were thinking the same thing settled in Sizhui's chest, anchoring the unfamiliar excitement still fluttering through him. They would fit together this way, too. Maybe they would even be partners for good.

And if he felt a twinge at having something he was pretty sure his foster father had lost, the thought of staying with Jingyi still felt right.

After

After all the mysteries were resolved, and temporary farewells said, one certainty stayed with Sizhui—he needed to do right by his past, as right as he could, before moving forward again.

Jingyi gave him a long look and rested both hands on his shoulders. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Sizhui answered, quietly. Jingyi squeezed his shoulders and gave him a firm nod.

"All right. We'll be there, when you get home." Before Sizhui could do more than smile for the quiet certainty of that reassurance, Jingyi turned briskly to Wen Ning. "So, the thing you have to remember is, Sizhui likes to fuss over people. Just let him feed you; it'll make your life easier."

"Jingyi!"

"What you have to watch out for is that he doesn't sleep enough," Jingyi went on as if he hadn't heard a thing. Sizhui put a hand over his eyes. It didn't really help; he could still hear Lan Fengli and Lu Anbo grinning. "If it gets to midnight and he still isn't asleep, put another blanket over him and stay nearby, so he can tell you're there."

Sizhui was never going to stop blushing, at this rate.

"Thank you." The quiet sincerity of Wen Ning's words stilled them all. When Sizhui looked, Wen Ning was holding Jingyi's gaze, eyes as sure and steady as his voice. "For helping me take care of my family. Thank you."

Jingyi was very still, watching Wen Ning.

Wen Ning's smile was gentle. "And I'll take care of your partner; I promise."

Some of the straightness eased out of Jingyi's shoulders, and Sizhui blinked at him. He'd had Jingyi be protective before, but never possessive. Perhaps it was simply the newness of this new relative? He nudged Jingyi's shoulder with his, and Jingyi ducked his head a little, glancing at Sizhui sidelong. Sizhui smiled and stroked his fingers over Jingyi's wrist, hidden by the folds of their sleeves.

He wasn't going anywhere. Or, perhaps more accurately, he was always going to come back.

Jingyi relaxed and nodded faintly.

Wen Ning's expression had turned downright indulgent, and Sizhui did his best to stifle any further blushes as he picked up his sword. "I'll see everyone in just a little while."

The chorus of cheerful goodbyes was heartening, of course, but it was the steadiness of Jingyi's gaze on him, as he turned to leave, that Sizhui wrapped up in his heart to carry with him.

"You found a good partner," Wen Ning remarked, apparently to the trees, as they made their way back onto the main road.

Sizhui smiled, satisfied with the feeling of his old-new life fitting in solidly around his current one. "Yes. I did."

End

Pace Out the Foundations

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return to Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren is less than pleased, and Lan Wangji makes his first try at wedging open a better place for Wei Wuxian. Drama, Romance, I-3

Pace Out the Foundations

Lan Zhan was settling Wei Ying in his rooms when his uncle arrived to speak with him. Lan Zhan was not surprised.

His uncle had never hidden his disapproval of Wei Ying.

"Wangji." His uncle stood in the open screens, looking still and strong as a house pillar. "We must speak. Come along."

"Oh, don't mind me," Wei Ying said immediately, turning from his very minimal unpacking with a bright smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You can talk here."

"Some matters," his uncle's tone was frosty, "are not the business of outsiders."

Lan Zhan folded his hands at the small of his back and drew in calm with a slow breath. This would be the next step on the path he'd chosen, it seemed. "My cultivation partner cannot be considered an outsider."

His uncle sputtered. "Your cultivation—!"

Wei Ying propped an elbow on Lan Zhan's shoulder, still beaming, at least with his mouth. "There you are. All the more reason not to hold back!"

Lan Zhan glanced sidelong at him and quirked a brow. Wei Ying had never seemed particularly eager to listen to Lan Qiren when they were younger.

The smile fell away as Wei Ying straightened and turned to face him, leaving only the hardness in his eyes. "From what your brother said, the last time you went to 'talk' with him about me, he nearly killed you." The words were quiet but fierce in a way that Wei Ying rarely left uncovered for the world to see, and Lan Zhan couldn't help a tiny smile that Wei Ying would show it for him.

"Have no fear. We will only speak."

Wei Ying's mouth tightened for a moment before he blew out a breath and shook a mock-admonishing finger at him. "You'd better." On its way back down, Wei Ying's hand slid briefly over the line of his flute, the 'or else' unspoken but clear. That startled him a little, at least until he placed the memory of where he'd seen this before—the absolute dedication with which Wei Ying had protected his sister and, before Jiang Cheng kicked away that protection, his brother. Then it woke again the aching warmth of knowing Wei Ying truly knew and returned the measure of his love.

Lan Zhan inclined his head, accepting Wei Ying's terms, and turned to his uncle, ignoring the warring of anger and shame in his expression with as much grace as possible. He held a hand toward the steps. "Shall we?"

They walked in silence all the way to his uncle's rooms. Lan Zhan noted the cold tea set, as he sat; this had not been a planned invitation, then, but spur of the moment.

"Wangji," his uncle began, "when you accepted the position of Chief Cultivator, you also accepted a responsibility to the cultivation world."

"Indeed," Lan Zhan interjected, with careful timing, into his uncle's pause for breath. "I have been thinking on that." His uncle sat back with a faint frown, looking more puzzled than displeased, and Lan Zhan relaxed a bit. He wasn't terribly good at this, not the way his brother or even a-Yuan were. This next part, for instance, he couldn't think of any way to say but bluntly. "Senseless pride and petty rivalries have weakened the sects. If we are not to invite another cycle of catastrophe, we must change."

His uncle's eyes immediately narrowed, and Lan Zhan stifled a sigh—just as he'd thought. "True enough, perhaps, but that change must not be influenced by the morals of one who has abandoned the correct way."

It had been a long time since Lan Zhan had assumed that his uncle's interpretation of the Lan discipline was the most correct one. And, of course, in the wake of that understanding had come other thoughts. "Is it not the nature of cultivation to find one's own way? Our clan's writings speak of the importance of this, as do many others. Learning comes first," he quoted.

"Reject the crooked path," his uncle snapped back.

Lan Zhan folded his hands carefully, looking down at them as he reached for the words that he'd turned over in the silence of his own thoughts, for years. Now, he thought, was the time to set those words free. The first time, at least. "At each turn, Wei Ying has acted, not to aggrandize himself or rule over others, but to shelter the weak, to preserve life. At the cost of his peace, even his life, he has never faltered on that way. If his path is a dangerous one, one inviting harm, he has drawn that harm upon himself alone. He has borne the weight of his own morality—a sterner weight than I have witnessed any other bear." He lifted his head to look his uncle in the eye, and his uncle rocked back a little, scowl turning startled and perhaps wary. "It is for this he draws so many to his side, against the outcry of the powerful—to shelter under his hand until they gather the strength to walk their own paths. Perhaps it is for this that the powerful decry him."

He laid no particular emphasis on his last words, but his uncle's shoulders jerked taut, all the same.

"What, then?" his uncle asked, in clear disbelief, "you would have the cultivation world acknowledge any path, including that demonic one, as legitimate?"

Lan Zhan took another breath against an upsurge of the slow, deep anger that had gathered in him over the years. "I would have us recall the purpose of cultivation—not selfish hoarding of power, but the benevolent use of it." Because that was really the core of it, that so few valued what it was that Wei Ying did, the compassionate use he made of the power he had and pursued.

His uncle ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Wangji. This is not a dream world we live in, nor the Heavenly realm. Our rules exist because because we are only human, and human desire requires some curbs to it. They are the reflection of hundreds of years of experience. And that experience tells us that some things simply cannot be turned to good ends."

Lan Zhan spread his hands against his uncle's table as if he might hold the truth he felt between them. "And yet, our rules are insufficient." Across his uncle's incensed inhalation, he added, "Why else would they need be added to?"

He expected the moment of silence that followed, given that his uncle had added nearly a thousand. He took no joy in arguing with his uncle like this, but he could not allow such intolerance to go unchallenged here in his own clan. He had to start here.

"If it's self-aggrandizing power you would do away with, then start with the one you call your partner!" his uncle finally snapped, resettling his sleeves with short, sharp movements.

Lan Zhan held very still, breathing through another surge of anger that was still more than half at himself for ever suspecting such a thing, for not trusting Wei Ying's reasons. And into his own silence fell the notes of a flute. Lan Zhan recognized the mellowness of the tone at once; it was Chenqing.

The melody was Clarity.

"Why that—!" His uncle pushed to his feet and stormed out of his rooms. Lan Zhan followed after, swallowing laughter. It was so very like Wei Ying to tweak Lan Qiren in the same breath he used to soothe Lan Zhan, to be thumbing his nose at society and sharing a soft memory in private, all at the same moment.

Wei Ying was perched on the railing of the courtyard outside, playing, and his eyes danced as they met Lan Zhan's. Lan Zhan smiled helplessly back and stepped past his uncle to hold out his hands to Wei Ying, even as his uncle started to scold, "Eavesdropping...!"

On reflection, perhaps his uncle did have some cause to think Wei Ying a bad influence on Lan Zhan's manners, but Lan Zhan had spent most of the past sixteen years coming to the repeated conclusion that this was not as weighty a problem as Lan Qiren wished to claim.

Wei Ying brought Clarity around to a close and spun his flute lightly between his fingers, returning it to his belt and reaching out free hands to take Lan Zhan's. "Oh, I wasn't listening," he assured Lan Qiren, widening his eyes and looking earnest, if one didn't attend to the way one corner of his mouth tucked up. "At least not until you shouted loud enough. I didn't hear much, but you sounded like you could use a little clarity." He hopped lightly down from the railing, not leaning on Lan Zhan's hands but not letting go either. "Lan Zhan, where are the rabbits? I was going to visit them, but I think one of the juniors moved them."

His uncle threw up his hands and rounded on Lan Zhan. "And for this you would overturn all the traditions of the cultivation world?"

Lan Zhan regarded his uncle evenly and did not protest the exaggeration, calm with the certainty his heart gave back to that question. "I would."

His uncle's shoulders jerked back, and he stared at Lan Zhan for a long, silent moment before he turned without a word and stalked back into his rooms.

"Lan Zhan?"

He turned back to find Wei Ying also staring at him, eyes wide. "He... he just means you want to consolidate a few of the rules to save words, or something, right?" Wei Ying asked with an uncertain smile.

Lan Zhan shook his head. "We fear the unknown, but the known is smaller each generation. This must not continue." He tightened his hands on Wei Ying's. "The sects have chosen me to guide them. So be it. I will not let our world remain one that denies a true heart."

Wei Ying opened his mouth and closed it again before finally managing, "But that's not... I didn't..." He looked so thoroughly at a loss that Lan Zhan had to smile, though there was a bright thread of anger running through his amusement. He understood better, now, what it was to raise a child, and how Wei Ying must have been raised that he so earnestly denied his own worth. He stroked his thumbs over the backs of Wei Ying's hands, seeking to gentle his uncertainty. "Actions in crisis tell of one's character. Crisis never diverts you, rather it cuts away your teasing and distractions. What is left shines true without fail."

"Lan Zhan..." Wei Ying couldn't seem to meet his eyes, staring down at their clasped hands. His weight was in his toes, like he might turn and run at any moment, but when Lan Zhan tightened his hold, Wei Ying gripped back hard.

Quiet and sure, he repeated, "I will not let our world remain one that denies you."

"You're serious," Wei Yin whispered, finally looking back up at him, eyes wide and wondering. "You... but... for me?"

Lan Zhan lifted a hand to touch Wei Ying's cheek. "Your lineage flows from the only one in living memory to truly succeed in her cultivation. Knowing you, I am no longer surprised."

Wei Ying turned his head into Lan Zhan's hand, breath quick and unsteady against his palm. But when Wei Ying finally moved, it was to take a step closer, free hand coming up to wind tight into Lan Zhan's robes.

Lan Zhan looked over Wei Ying's bent head to where his uncle stood in the shadows of his rooms, watching them with folded arms. Lan Zhan tipped his chin up in silent question: Where is this self-aggrandizing power you think you saw? Their locked gazes held for a long moment before his uncle finally shrugged, sharp and irritable, and looked away, turning toward his sitting room. Satisfaction settled over Lan Zhan. His uncle might not ever approve of Wei Ying, but at least he would not interfere. That would do, for now. He gathered Wei Ying closer and murmured, "Shall I ask what larger sets of rooms are untaken, at the moment?"

Wei Ying looked up, a little flushed, blinking back wetness from his eyes, but laughing again. "Yes. All right." It was agreement to more than a new set of rooms, and Lan Zhan smiled, satisfaction deepening.

Wei Ying was with him, again. He no longer had any fears.

End

Here and Now

Lan Wangji wants to take his time making love to Wei Wuxian, to touch him as thoroughly as possible. In the process he notices something about Wei Wuxian's qi. Porn, Fluff, a Touch of Drama, I-4

Wei Wuxian was not, in the grand scheme of things, at all opposed to reading. On the contrary, he quite liked digging through what other people often considered musty and pointless scrolls on the special seals and talismans produced by different clans, and when he was in the right mood, and accompanied by the right kind of drink, he very much enjoyed reading poetry. So it wasn't that he didn't understand the attraction of books and scrolls; he did. It was just that Lan Zhan seemed to read as a sort of reflex, one that came right after breathing. A properly balanced life included books, but it also included other things.

So Wei Wuxian considered it one of his duties to coax Lan Zhan away from his reading now and then, and today Lan Zhan had been reading for several hours without even a pause for fresh tea. It was definitely time.

He folded the notes he'd been jotting and tucked them into Treatise on the Changing of Names to keep his place, and stood up in one long, slow stretch.

Lan Zhan didn't look up.

Wei Wuxian huffed a faint laugh and strolled across from the corner... all right, wall... well, okay, significant section of their sitting room that he'd taken over for his own, to where Lan Zhan sat, perfectly straight, at his writing table.

Lan Zhan turned a page.

Wei Wuxian grinned. It had taken him a while to wrap his mind around the idea that Lan Zhan had learned how to tease, in the years they'd been apart. He was very understated about it (of course), but it was still adorable. Wei Wuxian circled his lover to drape himself over Lan Zhan's back and murmur into his ear, "Lan Zhaaaan."

Lan Zhan turned his head enough to give Wei Wuxian a sidelong look, one brow raised.

"Study time is over," Wei Wuxian declared, folding his arms around Lan Zhan's shoulders.

"Is there else we should be doing?" Lan Zhan asked, still holding his book open. His shoulders were completely relaxed, though, so Wei Wuxian had no hesitation in swinging himself around Lan Zhan's side to land squarely in his lap. Sure enough, Lan Zhan caught him adroitly in one arm, and Wei Wuxian grinned up at him.

"You should be paying attention to me."

Lan Zhan looked down at him, and the line of his mouth softened. "You always have my attention."

The simple certainty of the words caught Wei Wuxian, just as surely as Lan Zhan's arm around him, quieting his playfulness into attention. "Always?" he asked, softly, reaching up to trace light fingers along the curve of Lan Zhan's cheek.

Lan Zhan laid his book aside and brought his hand up, fingers sliding gently into Wei Wuxian's hair. "Always."

This time the certainty in his voice was absolute, so complete it rang through the room like a struck chord that stole Wei Wuxian's breath with its purity. He had to wet his lips before he could speak again, and when he did it was nearly a whisper. "Show me?"

Lan Zhan leaned down and kissed him, slow, every small movement so deliberate that it stroked a shiver down Wei Wuxian's spine, every cool slide of lips against his speaking of how he was at the center of Lan Zhan's attention. It felt so good, so easy to relax into that certainty. When Lan Zhan shifted to let him down to the mats and lean over him, Wei Wuxian let him, didn't (for once) reach up to pull Lan Zhan down close. The weight of Lan Zhan's intent focus on him was just as good as the weight of his body, heavy and reassuring. He let Lan Zhan take his hands, relaxed in his hold as Lan Zhan unlaced his cuffs, one after the other, long fingers moving over the ties as carefully as they moved on the strings of a guqin.

It felt so good.

He lay quietly in the bright light from the window behind Lan Zhan's reading table as Lan Zhan unwound his belts and laid his robes open, layer by slow layer, moving pliantly with the gentle stroke of broad palms down his hips, over his shoulders, down his arms, basking in all that focused attention like it was sunlight. It felt just that warm and all-encompassing, and he wanted to just stay here until the warmth sank all the way into his bones.

And then Lan Zhan lifted his arm and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm. Another, very precisely, to the point three fingers below his wrist while Lan Zhan's fingertips stroked softly down his arm to his shoulder, unerringly tracing the flow of his qi. The delicate touch pulled his whole body taut, cut his breath into a gasp. He'd spent so long not letting anyone suspect enough to check, not letting anyone close enough to see the condition of his qi, how threadbare it had been stripped. So long, learning where to apply the little stream of raw strength left to him, to accomplish what only those of great power might do by direct force.

Lan Zhan leaned down to press another gentle kiss to his stomach, just under the arch of his ribs. "Forgive me," he said softly, against the skin. "Forgive me that I did not see. That I did not trust how deep the roots of your reasons must run, to take the path you have." He lifted his head and looked down at Wei Wuxian, eyes soft and serious. "I see you now, Wei Ying. You have my word."

Wei Wuxian felt like all the breath was being pressed out of his lungs, and he shook his head a little. "You don't... It's not..." The apology was the least part of what Lan Zhan had just said, but it was the part he had some map to dealing with.

Lan Zhan leaned down again to kiss the halting words off his lips. "I see you now," he repeated, quiet and sure, and Wei Wuxian wound his arms around him and held tight, trying to catch his breath. Which was not assisted by how Lan Zhan gathered him up and held him, fingers stroking gently down his neck and back, slowly tracing each flow. He wanted this, so, so badly, wanted Lan Zhan to know him down to the core, to prove that it was possible.

He had no idea what to do with getting any of that, let alone all of it.

And Lan Zhan just held him, as he tried to find his control again, held him close while Wei Wuxian buried his head in Lan Zhan's shoulder and gasped for breath, held him until he finally managed to calm, finally managed to whisper against layers of fine white, "I wanted you to know. I just couldn't..."

"Yes." Lan Zhan stroked gentle fingers all the way down his spine, touch so alive that Wei Wuxian could feel the effect on his qi, feel it like a current of cool water in warm. "Permit me to know, now?"

Heat tightened, low in Wei Wuxian's stomach, at the thought of letting Lan Zhan touch him that deeply, trace all the paths of life and remaining strength in him. "Yes," he agreed, husky.

Lan Zhan gathered him closer for a moment. "Thank you, my heart." Wei Wuxian couldn't help but laugh a little, soft and unsteady, as Lan Zhan laid him back against his spread-out robes, reaching up to tuck back Lan Zhan's hair. "You don't need to thank me."

"When it is called for, I will," Lan Zhan told him, calm and immoveable as he shrugged out of his own robes, white fabric slipping down to join black and red pooled around them. "Become used to it."

Wei Wuxian really did laugh at that, winding his arms around Lan Zhan as he settled back down, a lean weight of muscle over Wei Wuxian. "I love you, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan cupped his cheek in one broad hand, eyes dark and steady. "You are all that is precious to me." The certainty of his words sent a soft rush of warmth through Wei Wuxian, and he turned his head into Lan Zhan's hand, smiling.

And then his breath drew in fast and his eyes widened, as Lan Zhan stroked his open palm gently down Wei Wuxian's neck. His hand was alive--as if he were about to inscribe a seal, as if he were about to draw his sword, as if he were about to transfuse his own life force. Wei Wuxian could feel it.

And Lan Zhan must be able to feel him just as clearly.

That certainty, and the intent weight of Lan Zhan's eyes on him, drove a soft moan out of him. Gentle, relentless sensation, the slow caress of hands carefully tracing the flow of qi through his body, folded him deep in the warmth of Lan Zhan knowing all of him. He wanted it with everything in him, but even so he arched up with a tiny, breathless sound of not-quite-protest when Lan Zhan's palm stopped over his solar plexus. "There's nothing there," he whispered.

"Then let me know that." Lan Zhan's voice was soft against his ear, and when he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) the daylight brightness of the room past Lan Zhan's shoulder stunned him a little with its normality. Surely the world should be glowing, lit up from within, the same way he felt right now, doubly aware of the faint currents of his own qi with every path that Lan Zhan traced over his skin. Did he really want to halt it, try to withhold this one thing that Lan Zhan knew of already?

He closed his eyes again, deliberately relaxing back against the firmness of the mats under them, offering this moment of trust as freely as he could. "All right."

Lan Zhan's mouth covered his, and the slow, wet sliding together of lips and tongues put a sensual edge on the cool current of qi that slid into him, sending his whole body surging up against Lan Zhan's. He'd felt this before, long ago, in the cave where they'd both nearly died, but not like this. That moment was hazy in his memory, tangled together with pain and cold and cloudy regret. This time there was nothing in the way of feeling the cool, strong current of Lan Zhan's qi flowing into and through his own, and his arms tightened around Lan Zhan as if he could pull the feeling closer that way. "Lan Zhan..."

"Breathe with me," Lan Zhan murmured against his lips, fingers holding steady just below his ribs. The huskiness of his voice made Wei Wuxian shiver, but the request was such a basic exercise that he fell into rhythm with Lan Zhan without thought.

And then he was hard pressed to keep it, feeling the flow of his qi start to parallel the current of Lan Zhan's, warm and cool sliding into each other and winding together. His next exhale was a low moan. "Lan Zhan..."

Lan Zhan made a distinctly pleased sound and slid his hand down Wei Wuxian's stomach, tracing the major flow there, slow and certain, until long fingers wrapped around his cock. The intensity of heat, pleasure, response that rushed through Wei Wuxian's body and energies both left him dizzy and clinging to the rhythm of their breaths as the one stable point left, and oh it felt so good, knowing Lan Zhan was still with him. The slow in and out pulled him deeper into the moment, into the absolute certainty of Lan Zhan's touch, until he was moving with Lan Zhan, rocking up into each stroke in a long flex of muscles, trading deep, slow kisses back and forth. In one moment, he thought this might last forever, and in the next he was already over the edge, groaning out loud as pleasure pulsed through him like the heavy beat of a drum. Lan Zhan gathered him in tighter, and Wei Wuxian wound closer around him, holding on as heat and sweetness shook him apart.

When his senses finally settled again, he was cradled close in Lan Zhan's arms, chest heaving as he panted for breath. Lan Zhan's hand swept slowly up and down his back, open and soothing, and he could still feel how alive Lan Zhan's palms were, feel the faint response of his qi.

"You always have my attention, Wei Ying," Lan Zhan said quietly, and Wei Wuxian had to bury a burst of helpless, giddy laughter in Lan Zhan's shoulder.

"I believe you," he promised, breathless, and laughed again at the eminently satisfied sound Lan Zhan made, and kissed the faint, pleased curve off his mouth.

It wasn't until they were putting their clothes back to rights that Lan Zhan spoke again, very quietly. "Wei Ying. I believe you do have a Golden Core."

Wei Wuxian froze in the act of pulling his sash snug, feeling the words like a physical shock, and slowly looked around at him. Lan Zhan was watching him, gaze steady and even. "But that's... not possible." His voice rasped on the words.

"I have not the skill of one such as Wen Qing, but I know what I felt just now." Lan Zhan stepped close and touched his fingertips to Wei Wuxian's stomach, just under his ribs. "I do not know why or how, but it is there."

Wei Wuxian pressed his hand over Lan Zhan's, as though that would let him feel what he hadn't before. He hadn't felt anything there, had he? Nothing like what he'd known his Golden Core to feel like. No one that Wen Zhuliu had attacked had ever recovered.

But he hadn't been attacked, had he?

"The extraction?" he murmured to himself, turning the pieces over in his head. "Maybe the real problem was scarring, all along? Or did the revival ritual transfer that with his wish? Or maybe continuing cultivation itself is the key, do we have any records...?" As possibilities sorted themselves in his mind's eye, he looked up with a grin to see Lan Zhan smiling faintly at him, rueful and fond. "Lan Zhan! I need all the medical books from the Lan library! And also a bunch of the histories, I think." He looked around, frowning at the stacks of books and notes and charts already in his end of their sitting room. "Is there room for them here? Maybe I should just take over a station in the library—" He broke off as Lan Zhan kissed him.

"Let us see," Lan Zhan said, sounding calm but still looking amused. Wei Wuxian laughed, leaning against him.

"Yeah. Let's."

End

The Quiet Here

Sex in the Lan Library. Shameless, self-indulgent, porn. Porn with Atmosphere and a Touch of Fluff, I-4

Wei Wuxian tip-toed around the walkway of the Lan library pavilion, keeping an eye out for any of the junior disciples who might turn up to ambush him with questions about how to actually tell the difference between a spirit and a monster, in the field, if no one knew the creature's origin, or the best footwork for long distance leaps, or how to draw multiple arrows without fouling the fletching. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy teaching them things. He did! And if Lan Qiren was in ear-shot, the constipated look resulting from a conflict of "he's contaminating my disciples" and "thank the heavens they're bothering someone else with that" was high quality entertainment. It was just that he was hoping to find Lan Zhan, today, and having the kids around put some limits on how enthusiastically he was comfortable greeting his lover.

Not many, but some.

Finally he made it to the door uncaught, darted through it, and closed it firmly behind him, throwing the inner lock. "Safe!"

Lan Zhan looked up from the writing table where he was taking notes from one of the older scrolls, brows rising silently.

Wei Wuxian grinned, just a little sheepish. "I wanted to come see you without the juniors interrupting."

Lan Zhan smiled faintly and held out a hand to him. "Come, then."

Wei Wuxian stepped quietly through the soft, bright silence of the library and slid down to his knees beside Lan Zhan, reaching out to close his hands around Lan Zhan's face and kiss him, slow and deep, taking his time about tasting the corners of Lan Zhan's mouth. He made a pleased sound into their kiss when Lan Zhan's arms wrapped around him, drawing him in closer. "I was missing you," he murmured against Lan Zhan's lips.

Lan Zhan's lips curved. "And I you."

Wei Wuxian drew back enough to give the scrolls and notes and brushes spread neatly across the writing table a significant look. "You're sure?" he teased.

"Shall I demonstrate?" Lan Zhan asked, quite calmly, and Wei Wuxian leaned against him, laughing softly.

"I didn't actually want to interrupt. Much."

Long fingers slid into his hair and drew him back down to another kiss, this one fiercer, heated. "You are not an interruption," Lan Zhan said firmly, when he let Wei Wuxian go.

A little breathless from the heat of the kiss, Wei Wuxian settled beside him, smiling. "Okay, then."

Lan Zhan gave him a rather considering, sidelong look, and started to stack his scrolls and notes off to one side. The warmth of knowing he had so much of Lan Zhan's regard and attention spread through Wei Wuxian's chest, but he couldn't help a tiny twinge of guilt also. "I really didn't mean to—" Lan Zhan touched two fingers to his lips, hushing him, and kissed him again, gentle.

"You are never an interruption," he repeated, quiet and certain.

"Lan Zhan..." Wei Wuxian reached out to wind himself around Lan Zhan. His lover's surety loosened some small, tight thing, deep inside him. Lan Zhan held him close, one hand moving slowly up and down his back, until Wei Wuxian managed to ease the tightness of his hold.

And then he set Wei Wuxian back a little and began undressing him.

"What...?" Wei Wuxian laughed, eyes wide. "Lan Zhan, seriously?" He went willingly enough when Lan Zhan tugged his robes off and started on his underthings, but a significant part of his mind was still trying to fit Lan Zhan together with sex in the library pavilion and having some difficulty doing it.

"Hands demonstrate more clearly than words," Lan Zhan said, as imperturbable as ever if you didn't notice the faint crinkle of amusement at the corners of his eyes. Wei Wuxian figured he was laughing for both of them, though hopefully not too loud, because he definitely didn't want to be interrupted at this point. When Lan Zhan had him down to bare skin and he had, at least, managed to get rid of Lan Zhan's sashes and untie his under-robe, Lan Zhan caught his hands and kissed him again, slowly, until Wei Wuxian's laughter quieted into soft, approving sounds against Lan Zhan's mouth. When Lan Zhan's hands on his shoulders urged him to turn, he did so reluctantly, nipping at Lan Zhan's lower lip as he drew slowly back.

When Lan Zhan pressed him down, and he realized he was being bent over the writing table, his breath left him completely on a gasp that was half arousal and half shock. Everything sharpened abruptly in his senses: the bright, shadowless light of the pavilion; the silky smoothness of the dark wood under his chest and shoulders and palms; the scent of ink and paper from Lan Zhan's notes; the warmth of Lan Zhan's hands smoothing down his back as if he were a folio Lan Zhan wanted to spread out across the table. "Lan Zhan," he breathed, husky. He was hardening just from being touched with such slow care.

Silk whispered against his skin as Lan Zhan bent over him, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, open robes falling around him. "You are most precious to me," Lan Zhan said softly, against his skin, and pressed another kiss between his shoulder blades. "Of all things," and another, to the small of his back, "the most precious."

Wei Wuxian made a wordless, yearning sound, in answer. He never had words for what he felt, when Lan Zhan spoke like this, but want was definitely a part of it. Anticipation wound through him, hot and heavy, as Lan Zhan's palms stroked down his body, over his hips and down his thighs, parting them wider, until Wei Wuxian was completely spread out across the writing table. Only then did slick fingers stroke between his cheeks and shape slow, hard circles over his entrance, until he was spread open there, too, laid so completely open for Lan Zhan that it stole his breath.

Lan Zhan leaned down over him to murmur against his ear, "I've thought about this before."

The simple words, and the thought that Lan Zhan had thought about it here, thought about it often enough to be prepared, swept such a wave of heat through Wei Wuxian that his toes curled and he arched over the table, pushing back into Lan Zhan's touch. "Lan Zhan," he moaned.

Broad, calloused hands ran gently up his body. "Slowly?" Lan Zhan asked, and the want in that low voice was enough to ease Wei Wuxian back into quiet, relaxing against the smooth, polished wood.

"Yeah," he said, husky. "Okay." A shiver stroked up his spine as Lan Zhan's hands closed on his ass and spread him, and he relaxed into it, lips parting at the slow press of Lan Zhan's cock against his entrance. "Oh..." It was slow but steady, and the stretch of his body opening up around the thickness of Lan Zhan's cock felt like it might not ever end.

It felt amazing.

By the time Lan Zhan was all the way in, Wei Wuxian was more sprawled than relaxed over the table, panting for breath. "Lan Zhan..."

The same breathlessness was in Lan Zhan's voice. "Slowly, my heart."

As if Wei Wuxian wouldn't let him do anything he wanted, when Lan Zhan called him that. Lan Zhan was waiting for him, though, so he mustered a fervent, "Yes."

Lan Zhan's hands spread against the writing table to either side of him, and he moved slowly over Wei Wuxian, rocking in and out of him, white robes whispering around them in the bright stillness of the library. The slow slide of Lan Zhan inside him, filling him over and over again, swept pleasure down his nerves in ripples, like the waves of a lake against the shore, and Wei Wuxian moved with him, lost in the sensation.

"Lan Zhan," he moaned, eyes half closed with the heat winding tighter through him, "you feel so good."

"Good." Lan Zhan's voice was husky. His hands slid up Wei Wuxian's arms and over his back. "I dreamed of having you like this. All the strength and beauty of you in my hands again."

The burst of want and delight that answered pushed Wei Wuxian right over the edge he hadn't even realized he was so close to, and he groaned as pleasure flashed through him, sweet and sharp, wringing him out around the harness of Lan Zhan's cock inside him. The velvety sound of Lan Zhan's moan swept another wave over him, and he shuddered as Lan Zhan's hands closed tight on his hips and Lan Zhan drove deep into him.

Slowly, the hot rush of pleasure eased and they stilled together, Lan Zhan's hands stroking up and down his back again. Wei Wuxian made a pleased sound. He thought Lan Zhan had probably figured out how much he liked just being touched and petted. He didn't protest when those hands urged him upright, because Lan Zhan also gathered him in and held him, open robes draped around them both as Lan Zhan settled back. He lounged contentedly against Lan Zhan, and grinned at his faint huff of laughter.

"What was it you came here for?" Lan Zhan asked, at last, fingers sliding through Wei Wuxian's hair.

"Oh right!" He straightened, though not enough to take him out of Lan Zhan's arms. "I found something in Paths of Light that made it sound like re-cultivating a Golden Core might have happened before!"

Lan Zhan looked at him, brows ever so faintly raised.

"Well, yes, I know Lu the Younger makes all kinds of ridiculous claims, but he wasn't saying he did it, so it's a possibility."

"Who then?" Lan Zhan asked, tucking a strand of Wei Wuxian's hair back.

Wei Wuxian leaned into his hand, smiling. "Hong Ming."

"We have some of her writings."

"Thought you might." Wei Wuxian leaned in to kiss him, and reached for his clothes. Once they were put back together enough that Wei Wuxian would be willing to unlock the door again, Lan Zhan laid both hands on his shoulders, stilling him.

"Even if there is no precedent, there can be no doubt of what is happening."

Warmth curled through Wei Wuxian, softening his smile, softening his whole body as he leaned against Lan Zhan, arms draped over his shoulders. "I know. It isn't that. It's just..." His mouth quirked. "Wen Qing would absolutely kill me, if I didn't document this as thoroughly as possible, if she were still around. I owe her so much, the least I can do for her memory is this." He saw the flash of disagreement, or perhaps anger, in how Lan Zhan's eyes narrowed for just a moment, and shook his head, kissing Lan Zhan again, slow and coaxing. "She concealed us from her own clan, when we had to run. Remember that part, too."

Lan Zhan made a noncommittal sound and gathered him in closer, holding him tight. Wei Wuxian smiled and snuggled close, resting his temple against Lan Zhan's. If this was the reassurance Lan Zhan wanted, he was more than happy to provide it. They stood together in the quiet light of the library for some time before Lan Zhan's hold on him eased. Wei Wuxian straightened and dropped a kiss on Lan Zhan's nose. "Love you."

Lan Zhan's mouth curved faintly. "Will you let me take care of you?" he asked, quiet, not pressing, and Wei Wuxian had to take a quick breath against the sharp claw of remorse that raked through him. He'd been so stubborn, back then, not paying as much attention as he could, just because he'd thought he shouldn't have to, with a friend. He cupped Lan Zhan's cheek, thumb tracing Lan Zhan's cheekbone. "I will," he said, low and serious, "I promise."

Lan Zhan's smile blossomed for a breath, sweet and warm, and he laid his hand over Wei Wuxian's. "Hong Ming's works are in the east shelves."

Wei Wuxian laced their fingers together, smiling back, bright with the happiness inside him. "Let's go see."

This time, they would do better.

End

Return to Here

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both have occasion to reflect on their memories of the Burial Mounds, and the Wei Wuxian who came out of them. Drama with a Touch of Angst, I-3

Wei Wuxian

It was not, Wei Wuxian maintained firmly in face of Lan Zhan's raised brows, that he didn't notice important things. He'd always noticed Lan Zhan's actions, for example, even when he had misinterpreted some, had once thought lack of trust was slowly killing his most precious friendship. So it wasn't that he hadn't noticed that his Golden Core was regenerating.

It just hadn't felt like he remembered it.

He'd been very young when his Core formed, but he did remember it. It had felt like a fountain rising up, taking the river that always surged through him, the constant, fast-running current down every meridian of his body, and sending it all through a single, narrow point. The sudden force of his own qi moving had felt like it might lift him off the ground.

Come to think of it, no one had been able to catch him until Shijie had called laughingly for him to come down off the roof before he missed all of dinner.

This felt completely different.

For one thing, it had been a long time since he'd felt that river running through him. Wen Qing's surgery, brilliant as it was, had still shocked his whole system. She'd warned him it would, even if he lived through the removal, that his qi would be disrupted. Like a stomped in puddle, he'd said, and she'd rolled her eyes, a rare victory for humor in those few days. No one, she'd told him with some emphasis, could really say how long his qi would be disrupted before it returned to any sort of regularity. She'd decreed that he should rest as much as possible until he felt the flow smooth again and could perhaps gauge what it would be like, in the future.

Wei Wuxian was very sure that the Burial Mounds had not been the kind of rest she was thinking of.

He remembered very clearly what that had felt like, too, though he tried not to. Remembered the suffocating heaviness of the atmosphere, how difficult it had been, at first, to tell air from ground from the spiritual pressure of rage all around him. If he'd been thrown down there with his qi still flowing and open, he suspected the pressure might have stopped his heart before even he'd have been able to turn inward and harden the edges of his life force. But if he hadn't been what he was, hadn't still had at least a thin, stuttering flow to work with... well, then he'd never have been able to do what he did.

He remembered feeling the pressure of rage, like immaterial claws all around him, lashing at him unseen. He remembered, even in the middle of shock and fear, being fascinated by the massive, surging force of it, remembered fragmented thoughts spinning through his mind, wondering exactly what spells the Burial Mounds had been bounded with, to concentrate the fury of its ghosts this way.

To concentrate it like a Golden Core focused a cultivator's qi.

He remembered the shock of the thought, the flash like lightning illumination in the dark, when he saw the yin metal sword hovering untouched at the center of that roiling fury and yet ringing with it like a struck gong. He remembered the split second of decision, like the instant after throwing himself over a cliff, in free-fall with no way back.

When he'd answered the spirits yes, when he'd closed his hand around the sword and let himself feel his own fury, it had felt like toothed blades digging into his flesh. It hurt. But it also held him—held him up and held him fast. And in that moment of steadiness, he had reached out with the qi still welling sluggishly through him like blood from a wound, and slipped the hold a little, guided those teeth, those claws of rage, down his flesh, down his bones, and through the metal in his grasp.

The bursting surge of power that ripped through him had felt so like and so unlike the flow of his life through his Golden Core that he'd screamed with it, screamed his throat raw, whole body shaking with the edged, tearing alienness of it even as he'd shifted into an achingly familiar neutral stance to let it rush through.

It hadn't been the same. The paths and patterns that malice and resentment took weren't like the paths that qi naturally flowed into. His own qi had still, always, been separate from that power, been the near-helplessly light hand he'd used to redirect the spirits' rage, his own rage. He'd moved through his sword forms for two days and nights without sleeping, trying to channel the fury and reduce the clawing drag of it, before falling unconscious. He'd woken from fractured dreams of swords rising and sweeping upward in a shining arc, with the notes he'd once heard Lan Xichen play ringing through his head. Music had helped, had made his control surer. The weight of millennia of meaning, behind the script of talismans, helped, had teased at the spirits still sensible enough to notice with mazes and tasks, each one giving him that one more gasping breath of time to find his balance, find his place and being in the world again.

He'd found a place, in the end, found a balance. He'd just never been wholly sure it was his own.

Because none of that had changed the tattered, thin flow of his life energies. The river he'd ridden after the extraction of his Golden Core had been separate from his blood, if not entirely (safely) separate from his heart. The time he'd spent with the Wen survivors in, ironically enough, the Burial Mounds, had been the closest he'd felt again to the oneness with the world that he still remembered the feeling of.

And yes, maybe he'd succeeded, mostly by pure stubbornness, in pacifying his own rage, after his death. Yes, maybe he'd finally pulled himself out of that particular river. Maybe doing so had made other spirits' fury far easier to control, when he was so rudely yanked back into life, or maybe it really was a healing of his own energies that made it all easier. But he still hadn't felt anything like that brilliant, wild fountaining up of his qi that he remembered perfectly clearly from doing this the first time!

The eloquent arch to Lan Zhan's brows finally faded. "What does it feel like?" he asked, instead.

Wei Wuxian flopped back across the mats of their sitting room with a sigh. "It just feels... normal. Not concentrated. It's like... coughing to clear your chest, and then you can breathe all the way down." He lifted a hand, focusing into his index and middle finger, as if to inscribe a talisman, and paid close attention to the sensation. "It's... more like a spring than a river," he said slowly. "Not a rush, just... a welling up."

Lan Zhan gave him a distinctly judgmental look before rising to cross to their book shelves and pick out a scroll, which he unwound to a single diagram and placed delicately on the floor beside Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian leaned up on an elbow to see an anatomical figure of the meridians leading into, yes all right, the Bubbling Well-point at the palm, and rolled his eyes mightily. "That is my point, Lan Zhan. That's what anyone could become aware of and use, even without much cultivation!"

"Your Golden Core is not as strong as it once was," Lan Zhan agreed, settling back onto his cushion. "But do you think that will not change?"

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth and then paused, closing it again. "Hmm." It was true, after all, that this was unknown territory, bar a few frustratingly vague mentions in pretty unreliable chronicles. Which meant that there was no one else to say what might or might not be possible. He smiled slowly at the thought, at the flash of bright, reckless delight he also hadn't felt in a while, and looked up to find Lan Zhan looking back at him with quiet satisfaction.

"Let's find out."

Lan Wangji

When he was young, Lan Zhan had spent some time privately wondering whether Wei Ying even knew the meaning of discipline. Perhaps, he had theorized to himself, Wei Ying's natural brilliance had obviated any need for it. He had even worried a bit, because he had seen other disciples of natural talent reach the limit of their abilities and halt there, not knowing how to strive further.

When he had thought back, after his heart had encountered a similar halt, he had wondered if there was anything he might ever have done, to draw Wei Ying into safer waters, to coax that brilliant talent away from the fatal edge he'd insisted on exploring. At the time, he had not been able to see any action he could have taken or not taken, and had concluded, with bittersweet helplessness, that perhaps Wei Ying would not have been Wei Ying if he had shied away from any edge.

Knowing what he knew now, Lan Zhan was close to awe at the revealed depth and dedication of Wei Ying's discipline. To take a crippling injury and certain death, and forge from them a new life and triumph, even one laced with pain—if there were justice in the world, Wei Ying would be recorded among the greatest of cultivators.

He watched Wei Ying now, as he worked with Suibian, flowing through the sword forms he drilled in every day. Every day, he ran out of strength to support the sword, meditated until he had regathered himself and could draw it again, and return to his drill. And yet, there was no frustration in his movements, no impatience. The growing depth of Wei Ying's Golden Core proceeded as if inevitable, day by day, as if sunrise slowly illuminated something already present.

Wei Ying brought his form to a close and immediately leaped up onto Suibian's blade, hovering like a hawk over the courtyard. Wei Ying's focus stole his breath to see, utterly unyielding and yet without force, unless it was the force of the very seasons turning.

He wondered if Wei Ying had always been like this, or if this was something he'd found during the months he'd disappeared into the Burial Mounds.

Wei Ying had never explicitly admitted where he'd been, back then, but some things had been clear from the very start. He'd been somewhere unrelentingly dangerous. Every movement, once he'd returned, had been made with a terrifyingly constant awareness of every other thing around him, living or dead, moving or still. He had never stumbled, never flinched save from the force of malice itself, never been surprised by any human approach. And he had never permitted any approach but one he had determined was no threat, controlling the space between himself and others with absolute, ruthless perfection. Lan Zhan had worried over those signs, at the time, but what could he do while Wei Ying strove to pretend there was no change? He'd set himself to match Wei Ying's awareness, at least of Wei Ying himself, and taken what comfort he could in how flawlessly they started to move together, on the battlefield.

He'd also known Wei Ying had been somewhere with an abundance of malicious spirits and the energies of resentment. He'd worn those energies like a cloak over his shoulders, when he returned, and the readiness of his own rage to surge, as wild and unbounded as any resentful ghost's, had frightened Lan Zhan. Mostly for Wei Ying, but sometimes of him, as well.

When Wei Ying had taken away the Wen refugees, Lan Zhan had concluded he really had spent all of those missing months in the Burial Mounds, just as the rumors Wei Ying shrugged off had claimed. He'd spent most of a week utterly failing to mediate, disbelief and glee and terror chasing each other around his heart. No wonder, he'd thought then, Wei Ying had changed so.

And yet...

And yet, had Wei Ying ever truly changed? No one without immense capability could have matched Lan Zhan so effortlessly, let alone survived what Wei Ying had. No one whose heart was not given to compassion and justice could have been so unfailingly roused to rage by cruelty. No one without a deep and abiding awareness of the world could so fearlessly and fully give himself to the regeneration of his energies that Wei Ying was bringing forth now.

A yelp from above warned of what happened at least once every day, now, just before Wei Ying tumbled down into a dusty sprawl in the middle of the courtyard. His smile was sunny, though, as he propped himself up on his elbows to grin at Lan Zhan.

Yes. He thought perhaps Wei Ying had always been like this.

End

Raise the Pillars

The juniors' fierce defense of Wei Wuxian's reputation leads Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to a plan for defending the entire cultivation world. Wei Wuxian decides Nie Huaisang will be the best possible assistant. Nie Huaisang has some suggestions of his own, for this plan. Drama, Romance, I-3

Lan Zhan always tried to demonstrate by his actions that he had full faith in a-Yuan's ability and judgement. So he had only once gotten all the way to Taicang, to watch for a-Yuan's party, when they had been late to return from a night-hunt. Normally, he managed with only one or two internal reminders to prevent himself hovering at the gates.

He reminded himself of this again, when he found himself passing by the gate for no particular reason for the second time that day.

Perhaps Jin Ling was reckless, yes. Perhaps Ouyang Zizhen was impulsive, yes. But Wei Ying had gone to watch over them, and if the party was a bit later than expected it probably only meant that Wei Ying had decided to expand the journey's lessons to encompass bargaining with stall-keepers or advanced archery techniques. There was almost certainly no need for concern.

He was turning determinedly away when he caught the sound of familiar voices down the path.

"...really don't have to—" Wei Ying was saying, only to be interrupted by Ouyang Zizhen's voice, full of indignant passion.

"You shouldn't have to put up with that! It isn't right! They just... they blame you for everything, Wei-qianbei, and you never did anything but try to keep people safe!"

"Yes, yes, they do," Wei Ying said in a soothing tone, "but it isn't like it matters."

"Wei-qianbei!" Ouyang Zizhen sounded downright scolding, now. Lan Zhan noted that a-Yuan had yet to say anything moderating, himself, which suggested he agreed quite firmly. When the party turned the final curve in the path, all the junior disciples were clustered around Wei Ying. Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi were crowded in at Wei Ying's shoulders protectively, nearly bristling with it. Wei Ying looked fondly exasperated at this. Jin Ling walked quietly ahead of them, eyes shadowed, though not nearly as tense as the other two.

A-Yuan walked at the back of the group, expression so very calm that Lan Zhan glanced reflexively at his grip on his sword. It wasn't tight. It was, rather, easy and poised, as if a-Yuan might draw at any moment. Lan Zhan raised his brows and went to meet them.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, reaching up to lay a finger against Wei Ying's lips when he started to answer, looking at a-Yuan for a reply.

A-Yuan bowed, every impeccable manner pulled around him like a cloak against the cold. "Hanguang-jun. When we stopped this morning for food, there were people at the inn discussing the haunting we had gone to address. One of them mentioned that there seemed to have been more hauntings lately, and that it was only to be expected when the Yiling Patriarch had returned." He bestowed a nod on Ouyang Zizhen that was nearly a bow, so clearly approving that the other boy straightened up in response. "Ouyang Zizhen corrected their misconception quite promptly."

Wei Ying huffed and wrapped his hand around Lan Zhan's, removing his finger. "It really wasn't necessary to get into a fight with idiots over breakfast."

"To supply necessary knowledge is admirable," Lan Zhan noted, ignoring the way Wei Ying rolled his eyes.

"That was followed by some historical debate," a-Yuan finished. "I apologize for the delay in our return."

Lan Zhan considered a-Yuan's sudden vagueness about this 'debate' and also the rather heated smile Lan Jingyi was giving a-Yuan, and concluded that a small village west of Gusu had been gently and earnestly lectured on Wei Ying's history and accomplishments until they had been shamed into admitting their error. A-Yuan's imitation of Xichen-xiong could be alarmingly effective. No wonder Wei Ying looked so exasperated.

"Learning comes first." Under the shelter of that inarguable principle, Lan Zhan exchanged a small, satisfied nod with a-Yuan.

"You are both so ridiculously overprotective," Wei Ying scolded. He was smiling, so both Lan Zhan and a-Yuan ignored it.

"Or maybe just protective enough." Jin Ling looked up at Wei Ying, eyes still a little dark. "There are still cultivators who think that way, Uncle."

Wei Ying's smile softened, and he ruffled Jin Ling's hair until the boy ducked away, scowling. "Lan Zhan doesn't think it. None of you think it." He shrugged, loose and easy. "The people who matter don't think it."

It worked on the juniors, who all grinned or blushed or otherwise looked flustered and pleased. Lan Zhan couldn't deny that Wei Ying's words sent warm satisfaction unfurling like a blossom in his own chest. But they didn't distract him from the underlying issue, which was that a whole society of those who claimed to seek the truest self had become far too ready to lay responsibility for their own lack of achievement on the truest one of them all. When a-Yuan went to see his friends off, Lan Zhan stayed close beside Wei Ying, walking with him back to their rooms.

Wei Ying nudged his shoulder against Lan Zhan's, glancing at him sidelong, eyes warm. "Lan Zhan. You know it doesn't matter to me."

Lan Zhan stopped in the middle of their courtyard and turned to face him, lifting one hand to cup his cheek. "I remember the look on your face, listening to the sects pledge your destruction." Wei Ying hadn't been at all afraid, but he had been hurt, wounded to the core. He flinched from Lan Zhan's words, even now.

"That wasn't..." Wei Ying lifted a hand to cover Lan Zhan's, turning his face into Lan Zhan's palm. "It wasn't that I cared what most of them said or thought," he finished softly. "It was that Jiang Cheng was right there. And I'd just lost everyone. Again."

Lan Zhan reached out to gather him close and murmured against his ear, quiet and fierce, "You will never face such things alone again." As Wei Ying leaned into him, he added, "I would have them not happen in the first place."

Wei Ying huffed a faint laugh. "So would I, but people are like that."

"Only if no one steps forward to say they should not be." Lan Zhan tightened his arms as Wei Ying stirred against him. "You said yourself: Jiang Cheng was there. What if he were not?" He ran his hands slowly up and down Wei Ying's back, trying to ease the tension gathering there. "What if I had stood forth against it?"

"Then they would have started saying the same things about you," Wei Ying said flatly, and Lan Zhan felt the pull on his robes as Wei Ying's hands tightened sharply in the fabric. "You saw that happen at the Burial Mounds."

"And yet, when you spoke the truth of Su She's deeds, they knew it." Lan Zhan ran his fingers gently through Wei Ying's hair. "I do not believe our society is so lost that truth will never move them."

"Maybe. At least if the likes of Jin Guangyao isn't egging them on," Wei Ying grumbled, and then abruptly lifted his head, eyes wide. "Oh." He was completely still for long moments, so still Lan Zhan spread a hand against his back, not entirely sure he was breathing. Finally Wei Ying did take in a deep, slow breath. "Oh."

"Wei Ying?" He could usually follow Wei Ying's thoughts, but he wasn't entirely sure where they'd gone just now.

Wei Ying pushed back just enough to take Lan Zhan's shoulders in his hands. "I'm an idiot," he declared, in a tone which suggested anything but. "Jin Guangshan and his brat of a nephew stirred up a little talk, sure, but they were so obvious about throwing their weight around I doubt it would have gone very far. It was only Jin Guangyao that turned it into something else, starting right from the victory banquet, I bet. That must be when he started working on the set-up for the hunt at Phoenix Mountain, which means he was probably the one egging on the Wen prisoners' keepers too, because it isn't hard to guess how Jiang Cheng will act when it comes to the sect."

Lan Zhan felt like he might need to catch his breath from the way Wei Ying's thoughts leaped and rushed ahead, this time. "You mean... that Jiang Cheng would not support your compassion?"

Wei Ying's mouth twisted for a breath. "That either. But the point was to make me lose my temper, ideally in public, over the treatment of the Wen remnants. Because that was the one thing he could be sure the other sects wouldn't support, which means Jiang Cheng wouldn't either, to protect Jiang's reputation. And once I was acting apart from any of the sects, how easy must it have been to stir up fear that I'd act against them?"

"You will not be without the support of a sect again," Lan Zhan said firmly, and blinked when Wei Ying swooped in to kiss him quickly and then shook his head.

"That's not the most critical point. People are people. They'll always be at least a little afraid of those stronger than themselves. But it wouldn't have gone further than that without Jin Guangyao pushing. It's that kind of interference that we need to be sure to halt." He flashed a brilliant smile at Lan Zhan. "And the two of us are a match for any one like him."

The conundrum Lan Zhan had been chiseling at in his mind for years, and had returned to far more urgently of late, turned over in his thoughts, the breaking point of it suddenly evident. Not how to change human nature, but how to stop the hands of the few who saw in other humans only tools for their own use. "Yes," he agreed softly, and ran his fingers down Wei Ying's jaw, coaxing him in for another, slower, kiss. "We will be."

Wei Ying leaned in and kissed him back, humming a contented little sound into his mouth. After a moment he murmured, against Lan Zhan's lips, "You know, there's one person who could really help out with something like this."

When Lan Zhan drew back, he saw that the laughter had slipped away from Wei Ying's mouth. "Who?"

Wei Ying's eyes were steady and serious on him. "Nie Huaisang."

Lan Zhan took in a sharp breath and had to close his eyes for a moment, seeing again the empty stillness of his brother's face, the last time Lan Zhan had visited his rooms, the way his gaze didn't seem to really see what was around him.

Yet, he also remembered Jin Guangyao's smile and the utterly reasonable tone of his voice, speaking condemnation of Wei Ying, dropping fear, word by word, into the ears of the other sects. And he remembered the light in his brother's eyes, the way he'd held out his hands to welcome Jin Guangyao into the Cloud Recesses.

It cut across his heart with an edge made of shame, because he loved his brother, but he understood why Nie Huaisang might have seen justice in using Xichen-xiong's hands to put a final end to the unblinking cruelty of Jin Guangyao's plots.

Wei Ying's hand on his cheek, warm and calloused and real, drew him back. "We don't have to," Wei Ying said softly. "But in the whole cultivation world, right now, he's probably the best one at spotting that kind of manipulation. And the one with the most reason to put a halt to it."

Lan Zhan laid his hand over Wei Ying's, lacing their fingers gently. "Besides you? Perhaps so."

Wei Ying blinked at him. "Besides...? Oh! Sure, I guess so."

Lan Zhan really had some exceedingly uncomplimentary thoughts about Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, these days. "Think more of yourself," he told Wei Ying, quiet and firm.

"I will if you will," Wei Ying proposed, something Lan Zhan frankly doubted. "Do you want to leave Nie Huaisang out of this?"

Lan Zhan gave his lover a stern look for that slippery maneuver, but made himself think it over. Was filial duty, or even his anger over his brother's pain, more important to him than having this ally in keeping Wei Ying safe? As soon as the thought formed, though, he felt the tension in his arms and shoulders ease. Another thought formed to answer it, as surely as his blade would rise to answer the awareness of a blow coming toward him.

No. It was not.

He gathered Wei Ying close again, feeling the warm, living weight in his arms that whispered to his heart that all was well. "Let us speak to him."

Wei Ying's eyes widened, and even the bright smile that blossomed over his face didn't fully hide his underlying amazement. "You're sure?" he asked softly, draping his arms over Lan Zhan's shoulders, fingers toying with the ends of his headband. Lan Zhan smiled and let him.

"I am."

If everyone else in Wei Ying's life had been blind and foolish enough to think Wei Ying's generous heart would always be at their disposal, even if they failed at every turn to cherish, or even appreciate it... well, Lan Zhan was more than willing to ensure that everyone involved learned better. Including Wei Ying.

The errand was not immediately urgent, so they walked rather than riding their swords. At least, Lan Zhan walked. Wei Ying brought Little Apple to ride, insisting that the beast needed the exercise. Little Apple himself was unconvinced by Wei Ying's arguments, and held out for an apple from each of them before consenting to take his headstall without turning up his nose or nipping.

It was good to be on the road together, though. Lan Zhan hadn't fully realized how constantly alert he'd been, in the Cloud Recesses, for any sign that his uncle's disapproval was affecting how the rest of the sect treated Wei Ying, or that his brother's grief was spiraling downward, or that there was some need for his word as Chief Cultivator to quiet the lingering agitation among the sects. It was pleasant to be alone for a bit, just the two of them.

They were let in immediately, when they arrived at the Unclean Realm. The easy welcome made Wei Ying smile, only a little crookedly, which Lan Zhan had to admit pleased him. Even so, the way the Nie sect master came to welcome them and show them, not to his formal receiving room, but to his personal sitting room, sharpened Lan Zhan's attention. This was a very marked degree of favor and respect, something which, in retrospect, Nie Huaisang had used his reputation for timidity to avoid offering any of the other sect masters or the late Chief Cultivator. He wondered if this was an apology of sorts.

Nie Huaisang poured tea all around and sat back, delicate cup held gracefully between his fingers. â€œWhat may I do for the Chief Cultivator and his cultivation partner?â€ he asked. â€œOr is it Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian who have come to visit?â€

â€œA little of both.â€ Wei Ying trailed his fingers over the silky smoothness of the table, not quite perfectly at random. The motion caught at Lan Zhan's eye. None of Wei Ying's movements quite formed characters of the talisman script, but the suggestion was there. Perhaps he wasn't the only one on edge. â€œLan Zhan wants me not to be a target again, and I have to admit Iâ€™d like that too. That's the personal part. For the less personal, we're looking for a way to prevent our society's weaknesses from being exploited."

"Fear of the unknown is a weakness," Lan Zhan supplied, at Nie Huaisang's raised brows.

"And what do we have a Chief Cultivator for, if not to take thought for the cultivation world as a whole, and try to find ways to strengthen us all?" Wei Ying flashed Lan Zhan a bright smile, eyes crinkled with a private laugh, â€œEven if heâ€™d often prefer to do it by knocking some heads together.â€

Lan Zhan took a composed sip of his tea. â€œOnly when truly necessary.â€

Nie Huaisang furled his delicately painted fan and tapped it against his chin, not quite covering a faint, tilted smile. â€œSo says the man who gave Jiang-zongzhu a black eye that lasted for weeks after the second battle at the Nightless City.â€

Wei Ying paused, staring at Lan Zhan with wide eyes. â€œ...you did?â€

Lan Zhan took another sip of tea, which he hoped did a better job than the fan of covering his considerable satisfaction at the memory. â€œWe would appreciate your insight,â€ he told their host.

Nie Huaisang tilted his head, faint smile fading as he watched them. "In protecting people from their own fear? As well try to protect the fertile ground from seeds."

"Some harvests require more cultivation than others," Lan Zhan returned, and after a moment Nie Huaisang turned a palm up in graceful acknowledgment.

â€œIf thereâ€™s anyone who would know the signs to watch for, that someone is manipulating public opinion for their own ends, it would be you, wouldnâ€™t it? Wei Ying added, quietly.

Nie Huaisang looked down at his folded fan, face still. Lan Zhan waited while he thought.

"It's a good thought, but you're being naive about how to start," Nie Huaisang said at last, "Once you've recovered, then yes, maybe you'll only need to keep watch to weed out the exceptional players in this game. But right now you're already at a disadvantage, and that will attract anyone who wants a cheap victory in public opinion. So the first thing you need to do is persuade people that you bring them advantage in increasing their cultivation. That was what almost saved you, before, you know. The useful tools that everyone knew were of your making. You need something of that sort again, now." He looked up with a tiny, wry smile. "The thing is, most people aren't very thoughtful, let alone original. Wei-xiong is a bit of an exception." He chuckled at Wei Ying's exaggerated preening, but it faded back into seriousness swiftly. "For most people, if they usually do things one way, then they think it's always been that way, even that it must be the right way. So once you've got them thinking in a new way, it won't be hard to keep it up. But to get them there, you need to give them a justification for why the new way is right."

Wei Ying slumped bonelessly over the table with a deep sigh, fingers toying with his cup. "Because of course, just being, you know, correct isn't enough." He waved a hand when Nie Huaisang started to speak. "No, you're right, you're right. It's only when they don't have a choice, or when there's an advantage, that people change, I suppose."

Lan Zhan contemplated the notion of not giving people a choice for a long moment before putting it aside with only a flicker of regret. Lan Yi had tried that once already, and it hadn't worked well enough for his current purposes. "Will you help to construct such a justification, Nie-zongzhu?"

Nie Huaisang considered him for a long moment, eyes dark and opaque. "I admit that I owe the two of you," he said, finally. "And this will probably be good for our society as a whole. Better than leaving it all to lie, at least. I'd be willing to help. But this will be a long piece of work; I'd like something in return."

Lan Zhan felt the subtle tension that threaded through Wei Ying, beside him. "What is it you want?" Wei Ying asked, not straightening up but suddenly far more intent.

The corner of Nie Huaisang's mouth quirked up. "I want the position of Chief Cultivator, when Hanguang-jun steps down. I want neither of you to stand in my way, while I restore my clan's face from what I had to do to it. In return," he spread his hands, "I'll also use it to help you guard against the cultivators of dangerous harvests."

Wei Ying's mouth curled, too tight for amusement alone but still amused, Lan Zhan thought. "Oh, that should be fun to watch. All right, on one condition." Now he straightened, shoulder brushing Lan Zhan's, and his voice dropped into something hard and serious. "That you stand by your promise. The next time you decide someone has to die, you do it with your own hands or not at all."

Lan Zhan felt his sharp awareness of their surroundings and of Nie Huaisang himself easing a little, the edge of it softened by Wei Ying's fierce protectiveness. Neither of them faced this alone any more.

Nie Huaisang tilted his head, eyeing both of them, and finally smiled, unfolding his fan with a gentle snap. "You're a good pair, the two of you. I agree."

Wei Ying nodded and looked over at Lan Zhan, brows raised in question. Lan Zhan thought over what they'd all said so far, and decided he had one more question. One that might tell him just a little more of what Nie Huaisang would make of this plan. "Why do you say we're a good pair?"

Nie Huaisang gave him an amused look over the edge of his fan that suggested he thought Lan Zhan might be indulging his vanity a little, but answered freely enough. "Your influence keeps Wei-xiong focused; his influence keeps you flexible. Neither," he added dryly, "something either of you is especially good at on his own."

Wei Ying mimed being struck, laughing, though it softened into a small, true smile as he looked sidelong at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan smiled back, shifting his hand to rest lightly on Wei Ying's knee, under the table. "I agree," he said, simply, encompassing both Nie Huaisang's remarks about the two of them and his proposed deal. Nie Huaisang's answer had spoken of an eye for balance.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes and flapped his fan at them. "Good, good. Now go on, both of you. There's a guest room ready. Go make eyes at each other there."

Wei Ying's smile transformed into a wicked grin, and he seized Lan Zhan's wrist and bounced to his feet. "Okay!"

Lan Zhan let himself be tugged along, leaving Nie Huaisang shaking his head and smiling behind them.

Nie Huaisang joined them for breakfast in their rooms the next morning. "I think the one we'll want to start with is Yao Chenzhuo."

Wei Ying made a pained face over his dumplings. "Did you have to mention him while we're eating?"

"Build up a stronger stomach," Nie Huaisang directed ruthlessly, popping a bit of fruit into his mouth. "Yao-zongzhu is easily led and a terrible gossip. Convincing him that he secretly thought, all along, that exploration of mysterious cultivation methods is daring and admirable will not be difficult. Once convinced, he'll spread the notion that you're an asset to our world faster than any other."

Wei Ying made another horrible face, and then sighed. "Okay. Who else?"

Nie Huaisang gave both of them a long, steady look. "To be honest, the most critical are almost all taken care of already. The junior set can be left to Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Sizhui. Jin will mostly be an internal problem for Jin Ling, but I have faith in that boy's stubbornness." He turned over his fan between his fingers, looking down at it, and finished softly, "The only really critical player left is Jiang-zongzhu."

Wei Ying flinched, mouth tightening, eyes flickering down, and Lan Zhan deliberately set decorum aside and reached out to lay his hand over Wei Ying's, fisted on the table beside his bowl. Wei Ying looked up at him, nascent attempt at a nonchalant smile fading under Lan Zhan's steady gaze until the helpless hurt under it showed. Nie Huaisang's gaze promptly fixed on the far wall.

"Take your time to think on it," he said quietly. "I can speak to him myself, on the strength of having been at the temple, to see the end of it all, but... that will work best if I have some idea of what still needs to be said."

Wei Ying's free hand dropped to his belt, where Chenqing rested, fingers running over the smooth lacquer. "I think," he said softly, "the idea that you're trying to untangle the left-overs of Jin Guangyao's work would be enough for him. Knowing he was manipulated, he'll still be angry. He only ever took that if you made it obvious what you were doing. But no, I don't think he's ready to hear me say it, yet."

Nie Huaisang looked directly at Wei Ying again for a breath, eyes dark, and finally nodded. "All right." He gave them a tilted smile. "Let's think about how to describe your heroism to Yao Chenzhuo, then."

Wei Ying took a breath and turned his hand over to give Lan Zhan's a quick squeeze before summoning a smile. "Well then. Not a white steed, but a black?"[1]

Lan Zhan started a little at that. Jing Ke, the reknown retainer a desperate king sent on a dire, hopeless errand, farewelled and remembered as a hero despite his failure. Black for white, condemnation instead of praise, yet success instead of failure. Lan Zhan released a soft breath as the perfect balance of Wei Yingâ€™s reference settled into his mind. Nie Huaisangâ€™s mouth twisted wryly. "Appropriate enough. I was already thinking about hosting a hunt in another month or two, as my own first step. If you're there for a public toast, it becomes your return banquet."

"Four sides arrayed by heroes," Wei Ying agreed dryly. "He'll like the implication that the fourth might be him."

"I'll be sure to look very impressed with him, yes." Nie Huaisang sighed deeply and fluttered his fan. "It's really such a shame you don't write more, Wei-xiong; you're terribly good at it."

Lan Zhan had to agree, though he was still a bit bemused by the part where the black steed in question was clearly Little Apple. That was also an appropriately ironic reversal, he supposed, irreverent in a way that was very Wei Ying. He listened to the two of them pick and choose select phrases to prime Yao Chenzhuo with, but what he paid the most attention to was the way Wei Yingâ€™s fingers slowly relaxed in his.

Renewing that fading tension was nearly the last thing he wished to do, but he knew leaving it alone would only leave Wei Ying open to sharper hurt. So when Nie Huaisang took his leave of them, Lan Zhan slid around the table and gathered Wei Ying into his arms. Wei Ying laughed softly and wriggled around until he was leaning against Lan Zhan like a superior sort of arm-rest. Lan Zhan took a moment simply to enjoy the solid weight of Wei Ying against him, combing slow fingers through his hair. "We have spoken of what needs to be done," Lan Zhan said quietly. "But not of what you wish to do, abut Jiang Wanyin." Sure enough, tension wound back through Wei Ying's body, and Lan Zhan's arms tightened, trying to soothe it.

"Trade you," Wei Ying said against his shoulder, voice a little rough. Lan Zhan thought that was mostly deflection, but... perhaps not entirely. So he thought, and gathered his words.

"When I lost you," he started, fingers still moving slow and steady through Wei Ying's hair, "My brother let me grieve. When he visited, he did not demand that I forget you or denounce you. He did not ask that we play any of the variations on Cleansing I had made for you. He told me little things about events in Gusu. He brought a-Yuan to visit. He gave me time, even though he believed by then that you had followed evil ways. So I will give him time to grieve Jin Guangyao. I will not demand that he forget the kindness between them." Lan Zhan had to take a slow breath before he could finish, because this still cut at him. "But neither will I forget the true evil that was done behind the shelter of my brother's trust."

Wei Ying was curled into him, now, arms tight around him. "Lan Zhan..."

"Shh," Lan Zhan hushed him, hearing plainly the guilt in his voice. "I give you my heart and my truth willingly, Wei Ying."

It took a little while for Wei Ying's shaky breaths to steady, but eventually he relaxed enough to rest his head back on Lan Zhan's shoulder. Finally he said, slowly, "I... never thought it was balanced, between me and Jiang Cheng. Or, I guess, Jiang itself. Uncle Fengmian saved my life, brought me back to the cultivation world. Jiang Cheng gave me a family; his family. How could anything repay or balance that? Putting up with his temper tantrums, when I could tell he was just hurt or scared... it seemed like such a little thing, compared."

"He is not a child, now," Lan Zhan couldn't help pointing out, though he was careful to keep his voice even, his hands easy on Wei Ying's back. "Nor was he, then."

"No," Wei Ying agreed, soft and sad, fingers toying with the edge of Lan Zhan's sleeve. "He made his choice, and it wasn't the one I would have made, or advised he make. Maybe not even the one his father would have made. But he made it and stuck to it. In a way... I was kind of proud of him." Wei Ying snorted softly. "I thought he was wrong, but I was kind of proud anyway."

Lan Zhan waited quietly, stroking Wei Ying's hair, slow and steady.

"The thing is," Wei Ying took in a deep breath and let it out in a shaky rush, "now he knows. That I gave him my Golden Core. When he didn't know... I didn't want..." much quieter, Wei Ying finished, "I didn't want him to feel indebted, the way I'd always felt."

Lan Zhan closed his eyes and gathered Wei Ying in tighter. He could only imagine how that feeling had subtly poisoned Wei Ying's sense of his place with the family that took him in.

"So what can I do but call it quits, and tell him that paid for all?" Wei Ying asked, curling closer.

"For now, perhaps nothing," Lan Zhan agreed quietly, restraining his urge to declare that Wei Ying was quit of the Jiang Sect. That wasn't his decision, alas. With some effort, he turned his thoughts back around to what Wei Ying might need out of this. Out of his family. Out of the brother who'd never quite managed to grow out of throwing tantrums to get his shixiong's attention. From that last thought, he spoke slowly. "Perhaps Jiang Wanyin needs a little more time to grow up, now he knows where he is truly growing from." From Wei Ying's gift, from Wei Ying's love, and Lan Zhan very privately hoped that the Jiang sect master choked on it.

Wei Ying huffed, half laughter and half exasperation. "That sounds about right, actually. He always did take a while to decide about things."

"Then let Nie Huaisang speak to him, for now." A congenial solution, from Lan Zhan's point of view. "And see what he chooses, from here."

Wei Ying tipped his head back and smiled up at Lan Zhan, small and sweet. "You became very wise, when I wasn't looking."

Lan Zhan shook his head, ruefully aware of the less than wise path his private thoughts took. "Only now that you are looking, again."

Wei Ying snuggled closer. "Then I'll stay, to keep looking."

Lan Zhan smiled, hearing the promise it was, and gave back his own.

"Yes."

Epilogue

Wei Wuxian was up a tree again.

He'd managed well enough through the hunt itself, mostly by sticking close to Lan Zhan's side. But the banquet had done him in. When Yao Chenzhuo had, in all sincerity, drunk to "Our outstanding talent that only grows greater!" and beamed at him, Wei Wuxian had been so torn between laughing hysterically and screaming at the man, he'd had to escape. Fortunately, he'd managed to laugh it off in a way the increasingly drunk sect masters took for modesty, and Nie Huaisang had covered his retreat with some adroit flattery.

He'd almost rather deal with dogs.

Dusk had deepened into blue by the time pale robes emerged from the gates and came unerringly toward him until Lan Zhan was standing at the foot of the tree looking up at him. Wei Wuxian sighed, leaning back against the smooth trunk.

"Are we really sure I have to be nice to idiots?" he asked, unable to help his plaintive tone.

Lan Zhan's voice was quiet and sure, in turn. "You do not have to do anything you do not wish to."

It made Wei Wuxian's breath catch with the sudden feeling of his world being upended, and he realized he was still waiting for denial. For what everyone else had always told him, whether gently or in scolding or simply by example. For the answer he'd spent a life and more fighting to prove wrong.

And instead Lan Zhan gave him an open door, and open hands.

He rolled lightly off the limb he'd been perched on, and dropped down into the arms that lifted to catch him. "I want to stay with you," he said, absolutely certain, folding his arms around Lan Zhan's shoulders.

"Then you shall," Lan Zhan answered simply. Wei Wuxian let himself relax into the warm relief of the accord between them.

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "I will." The promise settled between them like the evening settling over them, natural and inevitable, and Wei Wuxian leaned his forehead against Lan Zhan's, letting the feeling sink in.

When they finally turned back toward the light of the gates and the noise of cultivators drinking and boasting, he felt calmer than he thought he had since he was a child. In fact, he wondered a little if this was what his mother had felt, when she'd found her right partner, found a truth that went deeper than birth or accepted wisdom. The brush of Lan Zhan's fingers against his wrist, and the private smile in Lan Zhan's sidelong glance, curled into his chest, so perfect and sweet that he hoped so.

He held tight to that feeling as they stepped back out in the light.

End

1. This whole bit is a reference to "Yong Jing Ke" (å’è†è½²) by Tao Yuanming é™¶æ·µæ˜Ž, used here because Wei Wuxian is an inveterate poetry quoter when he's emotional. Also, the line about the white steed caught my eye and immediately suggested ironic reversal of almost everything about the Jing Ke story. back

Give One Heart, Get Back Two

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi decide it's time to let Jin Ling know how they feel about him. Romance, Porn, Fluff, I-4

Lan Sizhui was not used to exasperation being his predominant feeling while night-hunting, but it was happening more and more often lately.

Sizhui knew that Jin Ling was under a great deal of pressure, now he'd had to take up the responsibilities of sect master, and do so without much real support from within his own clan. He knew that Jin Ling's eagerness to accept his own or Ouyang Zhizen's invitations to hunt together was because these night-hunts, just the junior disciples among themselves (politely ignoring the times that Wen Ning or Wei Wuxian shadowed and watched over them) were Jin Ling's only real opportunity to relax, to be the junior that his lack of experience still showed him to be. He knew that it was for exactly these reasons that Jin Ling could get a little reckless, on their night-hunts, and he appreciated the implicit trust Jin Ling showed them all by leaving himself so unguarded. He really did.

He just wished Jin Ling would take a few more moments to think, first, before acting. Even one moment might do, really.

Sizhui exchanged a speaking look with Jingyi as Jin Ling dove straight for the corrupted river-spirit, sword out. Jingyi rolled his eyes mightily, but he also nodded and matched Sizhui stroke for stroke as he inscribed a freezing seal and drove it, glowing, into the body of the creature.

Jin Ling's sword struck a breath later, shattering it, and Sizhui couldn't help smiling back at the delighted grin Jin Ling gave them as he turned, face bright with uncomplicated happiness that never failed to warm Sizhui almost as much as Jingyi's rare quiet smiles did.

In that moment, he decided it was time to say something.

That night, once they were all settled in the town's small inn, Sizhui laid his head on Jingyi's shoulder and asked, soft in the darkness, "Do you ever think Jin Ling needs something to anchor him, these days?"

Jingyi tilted his head to look down at him for a long moment and then flopped back with a soft snort. "You and your taking care of everyone habits. I think you must have gotten that part from Wei-qianbei." He hummed thoughtfully, ignoring it when Sizhui poked him in the ribs. "On the other hand, Hanguang-jun did agree to take over as Chief Cultivator; maybe you get it from both sides." He squawked as Sizhui poked harder and grabbed for his hand, laughing under his breath. "All right, all right. I've noticed, yeah." After a long, quiet moment, he laced his fingers with Sizhui's and asked, low, "Do you think it should be us?"

Sizhui settled back against him, thumb stroking back and forth over Jingyi's knuckles as he searched for words. "I think," he finally said, slow and careful, "that Jin Ling needs very badly for someone in his life to show him gentleness. And for that to be someone he can trust, after what his Jin uncle turned out to be. I also think he needs someone to... well, to not stifle him. To let him be mischievous. To tease him out of it when he's acting spoiled, but not try to just... just cut him off." He smiled softly and curled a little closer. "And I think that sounds like you."

Jingyi made a thoughtful sound. "And someone to be a good example, maybe, considering both his Jin and his Jiang uncles. Someone who won't let him go the wrong way, even if there's people saying it's the right one." His hand tightened on Sizhui's. "Which sounds like you, to me. And, wow, did you definitely get that one from both sides," he added with a low laugh.

Sizhui felt his face heat. "I'm not that stubborn," he mumbled against Jingyi's shoulder.

"You really, really are." Jingyi turned his head to press a kiss to Sizhui's hair. "It looks good on you. Pretty sure we both think so. Me and xiao-Ling both."

Sizhui tried to stifle a burst of half delighted and half horrified laughter against Jingyi's chest. "Jingyi! Don't call him that!" The tantrum would be epic, even if Jin Ling was a full year younger than the next oldest of them. Or rather, quite likely, because of that.

"No?" Sizhui could hear the wicked grin in Jingyi's voice.

Sizhui leaned up on an elbow to smile down at him in the dim room. "Well, at least not until after we've convinced him."

Jingyi laughed and pulled him down to a kiss.

At breakfast the next morning, Sizhui asked Jin Ling, "How is the Jin sect doing?"

Jin Ling's head shot up, eyes wide over a mouthful of noodles. Sizhui waited, patiently. He knew they'd never asked about sect matters before, but he'd thought more than once that maybe they should. And if Jingyi was behind him in this, he was willing to press a little.

"It's... I mean..." Jin Ling hesitated, wariness in the faint hunch of his shoulders. Sizhui tilted his head in an encouraging nod. Slowly, Jin Ling's shoulders eased back down and he looked away with a shrug. "It's hard," he admitted artlessly. "There's a lot of people who think one of the cousin branches should have taken over. Someone older." He sniffed over the idea with a flash of his old arrogance, and Sizhui couldn't help smiling at it, reaching over to rest his hand on Jin Ling's before it could curl into a fist. Jin Ling looked around, eyes wide all over again, staring at their hands for a moment before he ducked his head, coloring.

If he was honest with himself, Sizhui had to admit that it was partly Jin Ling's shyness over the slightest expression of care that drew him. It was all tangled together, the wanting to take care of him, and the bright anger on behalf of someone who was so genuinely good-hearted, and the quiet satisfaction when Jin Ling let himself be guided. "You can always call on us, if you need help," he said quietly, tightening his hand on Jin Ling's for a breath. And then he smiled. "We won't be such complicated political support as Jiang-zongzhu is."

Jin Ling gave him an exasperated look, though he didn't pull away. "Lan Sizhui, you're the adopted son of the Chief Cultivator."

"Well yes, but almost no one outside of the Lan sect itself knows that," Sizhui pointed out. Not that a judicious revelation at the right moment might not be a very useful approach to keep in reserve, now he thought about it, especially if he needed to back someone away from Jin Ling.

"So, what, you want to lie to everybody?" Jin Ling looked dubious.

"It's not lying," Sizhui explained patiently. "It's just not saying everything. Zewu-jun does it all the time; I can teach you how, if you like."

Jin Ling sputtered, and Jingyi burst out laughing. "Everyone notices he's the one who gets us out of trouble, and never figures out how many of the ideas are his to start with."

"Just as many are yours," Sizhui returned.

Jingyi grinned. "Yep. And that's why you love me."

Sizhui smiled at him, knowing it was soft with the warmth in his chest. "One of the reasons." Jin Ling was looking at them with more longing plain to see on his face than he probably realized, and Sizhui stroked a gentle thumb over the back of his hand. "You can always ask us, if you need help or just want company."

At that, however, Jin Ling's eyes fell and and the faint tension of reserve returned—the reserve that he used with friends, instead of the arrogance he used with everyone else, which was a little progress at least. Sizhui glanced over at Jingyi, who gave him a tiny, helpless shrug. Sizhui nodded and patted Jin Ling's hand before letting him go. He'd think over what Jin Ling might be doubtful about as they traveled, today.

"Shall we get going?" he asked.

He watched Jin Ling out of the corner of his eye as they gathered their things and set out. As they walked, he turned over what he knew about Jin Ling's life. About the uncle who had raised him kindly but in isolation from the rest of his clan, never wanting competition for the sect's leadership. About the uncle who had raised him strictly, perhaps as the only memento of a lost sister and perhaps trying to never let him be too like a lost brother, but always in reference to someone else. Never as Jin Ling himself. About Jin Ling's deep attachment to the dog who loved him unconditionally. And when they stopped for water, he went to stand beside Jin Ling, looking out over the little lake that the spring fed down into.

"Is it that you want to not have to ask for our help or company?"

He'd spoken quietly, but Jin Ling jumped as if he'd shouted, head whipping around to stare at Sizhui. "I don't...!"

Sizhui knew it might not be quite the right moment, but he couldn't bear to just stand and watch his friend panic, either, and he reached out to lay his hands on Jin Ling's shoulders. "Jin Ling," he said softly, holding those wide eyes, "I'm saying you can have that, if you want."

Jin Ling chewed on his lip. "But... why?" he finally asked, voice small.

Sizhui shook his head chidingly, though he also smiled to soften it. "Because we like you. You're a good friend, Jin Ling."

Jin Ling turned very pink and ducked his head. Jingyi grinned wickedly, from behind Jin Ling, and Sizhui gave him a scolding head shake. There would be time for teasing later. Jingyi folded his hands and tried to look innocent, which he was very bad at. Sizhui stifled a laugh, and looked back at Jin Lingâ€™s bent head. Their friend was still hunched in on himself a little. Perhaps he needed to be even more plain about this.

â€œJin Ling,â€ Sizhui said softly, stepping closer, â€œjust because I donâ€™t approve of everything you've ever done doesnâ€™t mean I donâ€™t like you, and respect your abilities, and want to be with you. I do.â€

Jin Ling blinked up at him, looking very confused. â€œBut...â€

Sizhui lifted one hand to cup Jin Lingâ€™s cheek, and he quieted at once, face just a bit flushed. Sizhui made a note of that. â€œI like you. I want you to be well. And I think youâ€™ve been without what you need, for a long time. Am I right?â€

Jin Ling was chewing on his lip again. Behind him, Jingyi rolled his eyes and came to stand right up against Jin Lingâ€™s back, arms wrapped around him, which made Jin Lingâ€™s whole body stiffen. â€œOf course he has, we all know that perfectly well, Sizhui. The question is whether he wants what he needs from us.â€

Sizhui laughed softly. â€œYou see,â€ he told Jin Ling, â€œthis is another reason I love Jingyi. He always gets to the point.â€

Jin Ling was still standing far too still, but his mouth finally tilted in a crooked smile. â€œI guess I can see it.â€

Sizhui smiled and slid both hands up to cup Jin Lingâ€™s face, stepping in close enough for their breaths to mingle. He observed how Jin Lingâ€™s breath caught with satisfaction; heâ€™d judged this right. â€œYou are worthy of love and admiration too, Jin Ling. Perhaps not always for the reasons youâ€™ve been taught, but for your true strengths and true nature. Will you accept that from us?â€

Jin Ling opened his mouth and closed it again. â€œI...â€ He wet his lips, and Sizhui really couldnâ€™t help the way that drew his eyes. â€œYes?â€ Jin Ling whispered.

â€œGood,â€ Sizhui murmured, and leaned in the last little bit to kiss him, gentle but sure.

Despite how obvious he was pretty sure heâ€™d been, Jin Ling still made a shocked sound into his mouth, and Sizhui entertained a brief moment of fury at both Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng. He set that aside for later, though, concentrating on the slow softening of Jin Lingâ€™s mouth under his, and the sway of Jin Lingâ€™s body as Jingyi crowded closer, enclosing him between them. When Jin Ling jerked against him with a breathless sound, he lifted his head and smiled to see Jin Lingâ€™s lips parted as Jingyi pressed a kiss to his neck. It started gentle, but after a moment Jingyi's eyes darted up to meet Sizhui's, gleaming with mischief, and his cheeks hollowed a little as he sucked hard on Jin Ling's neck. Jin Ling elbowed Jingyi and gasped, â€œWhat are you, a carp?â€ Jingyi dissolved into laughter, and Jin Ling straightened up in their arms, resettling himself with dignity despite the pinkness of his cheeks. Sizhui made a pleased sound.

This would work.

When they stopped that evening, it was at a larger town, and the inn had furniture in the rooms. Jin Ling took one look at the bed and promptly turned pink again. Sizhui batted Jingyiâ€™s elbow before his grin could become laughter. The time for teasing was still later, he was pretty sure. He went to Jin Ling and gathered him close, satisfied when Jin Ling slowly relaxed against him. "It's all right," Sizhui said, running his fingers gently through the length of Jin Ling's hair. It barely took any pressure at all to urge Jin Ling's head down to his shoulder, and Sizhui made a soft, encouraging sound as Jin Ling's arms wound tight around him. Sizhui glanced over that bent head at Jingyi, who was frowning a little, brows pinched together as he watched Jin Ling. When their eyes met, Jingyi nodded short and sharp, and Sizhui smiled. They were in agreement that Jin Ling needed some taking care of. They would probably do it in very different ways, of course, but Sizhui didn't think it was a bad thing.

The less cooperative members of Jin Ling's clan might, but that was their problem. If they didn't want Jingyi's inventive wrath to descend on them, they should have behaved better toward Jin Ling.

Sizhui rubbed his fingers up and down the back of Jin Ling's neck while Jingyi quietly unfolded the bedding. Slowly, the lurking tension in Jin Ling's muscles eased, and he finally snuggled against Sizhui. Sizhui firmly suppressed the urge to comment on how adorable that was. Later. "Better?" he asked instead.

Jin Ling's color was still a little high, when he raised his head, but his eyes were clear and steady. "Mm."

Sizhui smiled and curled his hand over Jin Ling's nape, leaning in to kiss him. This time, Jin Ling leaned in to meet him, unpracticed but sweet and open, and Sizhui made a pleased sound, tilting his head to kiss Jin Ling deeper. He didn't quite realize he'd let his hand tighten until Jin Ling gasped and swayed against him, suddenly pliant. "Jin Ling?"

Jingyi, at least, seemed to know exactly what was going on, coming to stand at Jin Ling's back again and squeezing his shoulders. "Feels good, doesn't it? Knowing for sure that Sizhui has you. Someone you can really trust."

Jin Ling wouldn't look directly at Sizhui, but he nodded. "Yeah. It's... yeah."

Sizhui thought his heart might melt right then and there, and he gathered Jin Ling closer. "I'm honored by your trust," he said softly, meeting Jingyi's eyes over Jin Ling's head, making sure he said it to both of them because it was just as true either way. Jin Ling ducked his head again, but Jingyi just smiled, perfectly calm the way he only ever was when it was just the two of them.

Or three, now, it seemed.

The thought sent a sparkle of pleasure and anticipation down his nerves, and the way Jin Ling was quiet under his hand gave him an idea. He squeezed the nape of Jin Ling's neck, careful and gentle, and nodded to himself at the quick breath Jin Ling took in. He still asked, of course, when he stroked his hands down the collar of Jin Ling's robes. "May I?"

Jin Ling wet his lips and nodded, letting go enough to lay his fingers on Sizhui's sash, eyes questioning. Sizhui smiled, soft, glad that this wasn't overwhelming enough to quell all of Jin Ling's boldness. "Please do."

"He likes to take his time about this part," Jingyi supplied as he tugged the loosened robes off Jin Ling's shoulders and shrugged quickly out of his own. "You can get around that by not bothering at all, though."

Jin Ling got a speculative gleam in his eye, at that. "Really?"

Sizhui laughed, folding his underthings over the room's bench. "Yes, sometimes. We can show you on the road, tomorrow, if you like." He held out his hands to Jin Ling. "For now, though, come here and join me." He drew Jin Ling down to the bed with him and settled back against the coolness of the wall, tugging Jin Ling in to settle between his legs and lean back against his chest.

"Ah," Jingyi sounded enlightened. "Versatile." He knelt on the bed between Jin Ling's feet, sliding his hands slowly up Jin Ling's legs.

"I thought so," Sizhui murmured, folding his arms around Jin Ling and cradling him close, trailing soft kisses down the line of his neck. "Relax," he added softly, when Jin Ling turned stiff and uncertain in his arms. "I have you." He could feel the warmth of Jin Ling's flush against his cheek and smiled, tightening his arms gently.

The real point of which became apparent when Jingyi sprawled out on his stomach between Jin Ling's legs, and Jin Ling started—or tried to. The sound he made when he didn't go anywhere was sharp and wordless, but not a protest. "Shhh," Sizhui said against his ear. "I said I have you. It's all right." He felt the slow shudder that rolled through Jin Ling and made a soft, satisfied sound as Jin Ling sagged back against him, breath coming quick and deep.

His foster father had taught him to be careful with his strength, and perhaps that was why it always seemed to surprise people, despite core and upper body development being one of the central physical disciplines of Lan. Sizhui had guessed that Jin Ling would find it reassuring to be held firmly, and it looked like he was right given how lax Jin Ling was in his arms, now.

"So, are we ready?" Jingyi grinned up at them, chin in his palms, and Sizhui couldn't help laughing.

"I think so. Yes?" he asked against Jin Ling's ear. Jin Ling swallowed and nodded, and Sizhui exchanged a look with Jingyi and saw agreement in his eyes. When Jingyi bent down over Jin Ling, he moved slowly, making it clear what he was going to do. Jin Ling made a very breathless sound as Jingyi's mouth closed around him, but he also leaned deeper into Sizhui's arms, letting his head fall back against Sizhui's shoulder. That open trust stirred a deep tenderness in Sizhui and he pressed soft kisses to the curve of Jin Ling's shoulder as Jin Ling started to move with the slow pressure of Jingyi's mouth. Jingyi's eyes flickered up to meet Sizhui's in another question and Sizhui thought for a moment, balancing the way Jin Ling had been responding to him, today, with the way Jin Ling and Jingyi usually rough-housed. He suspected the direction had better still come from him.

He nibbled on Jin Ling's ear to draw his attention and murmured, "Jingyi is going to hold you still."

Jin Ling's breath caught, and Sizhui could see the way the long muscles of his thighs flexed tight for a moment. Jin Ling's bared throat worked as he swallowed and whispered, "All right."

Jingyi's eyes were dancing as he slid his hands up Jin Ling's thighs, and Sizhui could tell he was probably in for some teasing, later, about people doing whatever Sizhui said. It wasn't as if he'd set out to be in charge of everything; it just happened! Usually because someone needed to be sensible, or someone needed to be calm. Today, it was because Jin Ling needed someone to be see what he wanted and act on it, without Jin Ling having to fight for the attention. As he felt Jin Ling tense and then relax into Jingyi's hands settling over his hips, Sizhui loosened his own hold and stroked his palms slowly up and down Jin Ling's body. That still seemed to fit what he needed, if the way he melted back against Sizhui's chest was anything to judge by, and Sizhui exchanged a satisfied nod with Jingyi before Jingyi closed his mouth back around Jin Ling's cock. This time, Jin Ling moaned out loud and Sizhui hummed to him, pleased, kneading gently over the taut muscle of Jin Ling's stomach. The trusting ease of Jin Ling in his arms felt like it might be all he needed this evening.

At least until Jingyi shifted his grip and lifted Jin Ling just a little higher against him—just enough for Sizhui's cock to slide between Jin Ling's cheeks. "Jingyi!" he gasped, catching Jin Ling's hips to hold him still. Jingyi drew slowly back and looked up at him with a tiny grin.

"You were thinking about it, earlier."

"Well yes, but not if..." Sizhui trailed off, looking down at Jin Ling as it finally registered that Jin Ling's body was arched taut in their hands but his head was still laid back against Sizhui's shoulder. Open. Trusting. And also quite flushed, lips parted on each quick breath. He turned his head a little away, as Sizhui watched him, but only a little—as if he'd stopped himself. As if, the thought formed slowly, as if he were waiting.

Slowly, Sizhui bent his head, ready to draw back if Jin Ling tensed, and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the exposed arch of Jin Ling's throat. Jin Ling gasped and tilted his head back further, back arching a little higher, and when that pressed his rear against Sizhui's cock, Sizhui felt a shiver run through him.

Well, then.

Sizhui tightened his hands on Jin Ling's hips, pulling him back snugly, and smiled at his breathless moan. "Yes," he said softly against Jin Ling's throat. "We will."

Jin Ling's throat worked under his lips as Jin Ling swallowed. "Yes," he whispered.

Jingyi positively smirked. Sizhui rolled his eyes. "Yes, you're brilliant. Help me out here, then."

"Sure thing." Jingyi sprawled off the side of the bed to rummage in his bag, coming up with the jar of very-definitely-medicinal gel that they had both agreed some time ago it would be more plausible for him have, if it were ever found by their elders.

Sizhui lifted Jin Ling up gently and spread his thighs over Sizhui's own, pressing a kiss to Jin Ling's temple. "Jingyi is going to get you ready for me." Another shiver went through Jin Ling, and Sizhui folded his arms around him, cuddling him close again. He made low sound of satisfaction at how Jin Ling relaxed for him, and stayed mostly relaxed even when Jingyi slid slick fingers between Jin Ling's cheeks, rubbing his entrance firmly.

And, not coincidentally Sizhui was sure, also stroked the backs of his fingers against Sizhui's cock, which was very hard by now. The pleasure of his touch shivered up Sizhui's spine, winding together with the pleasure of having Jin Ling in his arms, increasingly flushed and breathless as Jingyi's fingers worked into him. "Tell us," he started, and then paused, remembering. What Jin Ling wanted was all their attention, without having to ask for it. "Jingyi," he corrected himself, "tell me when Jin Ling is ready."

Jingyi smiled, pressing his fingers slowly deeper. "I will."

Jin Ling tipped his head back a little further to stare up at Sizhui, eyes wide and dark. Sizhui bent his head to catch Jin Ling's mouth in a soft kiss. "Jin Ling, xiao-Ling," he murmured, "of course we'll do this for you. You're precious to us." Jin Ling's amazement over that was really starting to make Sizhui think rather violent things about Jin Ling's family and clan.

"Why?" Jin Ling whispered, voice breaking in the middle of the word as Jingyi twisted his hand slowly, sending another shiver up Sizhui's spine too. "I'm not your sect, or your clan..."

Sizhui gathered him closer. "You stayed with us," he said softly, against Jin Ling's shoulder. "Even though you'd obviously been taught to stand alone far too often. You tried to do the right thing, even when the people who should have guided you were holding their hands over your eyes, instead. And you never let go of your own heart, even when those around you denied it." He lifted his head and smiled at Jingyi, who rested his cheek against Jin Ling's thigh and smiled back. "I was taught to value that kind of integrity very highly." He looked back down at Jin Ling, who seemed to be having trouble catching his breath, maybe for more than one reason, now, and dropped a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love what you are. That's all."

Jingyi laughed softly. "I think he's ready for you, Sizhui." He leaned in and kissed Jin Ling himself, gentle even if his voice was still teasing. "In more ways than one." Jin Ling batted at him indignantly until Sizhui caught his wrist and pressed a kiss to the inside of it.

"Come here, xiao-Ling," he coaxed, and Jin Ling smiled and settled back against his chest, tugging out of Sizhui's hold to thread his fingers into Sizhui's hair and, a little hesitant, a little shy, draw him down to another kiss. Sizhui positively purred, and kissed him slow and deep, gasping into his mouth when Jingyi's fingers stroked over his cock, slick and deliberate. Want curled low and heavy in his stomach, and he slid his hands down to cage Jin Ling's hips again. "Now," he said softly, and Jin Ling relaxed into his hold with a quick nod, maybe a little nervous. Hopefully not for long.

Sizhui lifted Jin Ling up and made a pleased sound as Jingyi's hand slid over him, guiding his cock against Jin Ling. Jingyi leaned in to kiss him, over Jin Ling's shoulder, and mouthed gently against his lips. Sizhui smiled at that, happy warmth settling deep inside him at the way he and Jingyi thought as one, on this. He slowly, carefully, drew Jin Ling down onto his cock, letting Jingyi guide them together. Jin Ling moaned out loud, and his body worked around Sizhui, tensing and releasing and tensing again. Sizhui's breath caught at the fierce pulses of pleasure that shot up his spine, holding himself very still, focusing on the slow, firm stroke of Jingyi's hands up and down his legs. Slowly, bit by bit, he eased Jin Ling down further, breathing through the rush as the heat of Jin Ling's body closed around him.

Finally Jin Ling's body relaxed and he settled back against Sizhui with a breathless gasp. "Oh..."

"You feel so good," Sizhui whispered against his ear, lifting Jin Ling slowly and drawing him back down again, savoring the way Jin Ling moaned, the way he relaxed into this immense intimacy.

"Sizhui..."

"The two of you are beautiful, like this," Jingyi added, watching them with dark eyes, hands sliding over Sizhui's hips, up Jin Ling's rips, slow and open and caressing. Jin Ling bit his lip, tipping his head back to look up at Sizhui. Sizhui paused to kiss him until he stopped.

"Anything," he said firmly. "It's all right."

Jin Ling smiled at that, so sweet that it made Sizhui's breath catch. "Okay." He held out his arms rather imperiously to Jingyi, who laughed as he settled close, closing Jin Ling between them. Jingyi rocked against Jin Ling, driving him back onto Sizhui's cock, all three of them moving together, and Sizhui let his eyes drift closed so he could focus on how good that felt. "Mmm, yes."

Gradually they found a rhythm, a slow flex and hard grind of bodies, a cascade of gasps and moans tangling together, a scatter of messy kisses pressed to any mouth that was close enough, and Sizhui sank himself into the pleasure of it, the sweetness of Jin Ling's trust and Jingyi's desire, the heat in his body slowly winding tighter.

It was Jin Ling who came apart first, a desperate gasp captured in Jingyi's mouth, and then his body tightened fiercely around Sizhui. Sizhui shuddered and pulled Jin Ling down hard against him, grinding deep into him until the pleasure of it raked through him, hot and intense. Jingyi groaned, low and velvety, whole body one long, sinuous flex of muscle as he scattered kisses up Jin Ling's throat to catch Sizhui's mouth, and Sizhui freed one hand to tangle together with Jingyi's own on his cock and stroke him hard until he came, too.

They subsided into a tangle of limbs, all of them breathless and flushed and messy, and Sizhui couldn't stop laughing, soft and light with the lightness in his chest.

"Is he always like this, after?" Jin Ling mumbled into Jingyi's shoulder, and Jingyi snickered.

"Sometimes. When he's gotten something he really wants."

Jin Ling lifted his head, looking startled, and Sizhui put another mark on his very private internal list, next to 'Do something about Jin', before turning Jin Ling's chin to kiss him, slow and gentle. "Yes, you are," he murmured.

Jin Ling smiled, bright and shyly pleased. At least until Jingyi ruffled his hair, cooing, "Xiao-Ling is so adorable!" The ensuing wrestling match tumbled them both off the bed, and Sizhui shook his head, laughing again.

Yes. This would work.

Epilogue

Sizhui paced across the first courtyard of the Jin compound at his seniors' heels, Jingyi at his shoulder, carefully composed despite how much he was looking forward to seeing Jin Ling. They had to be decorous during the yearly meetings, and it was Jin's turn to be host so Jin Ling would have extra responsibilities to take care of. Of course, he could enjoy the sight of his lover being the competent sect master he was, too.

He stood patiently while Jin Ling greeted Lan and the Chief Cultivator, and Wei-xiong, who smirked at how Jin Ling tried to make him sound like an afterthought, and ruffled Jin Ling's hair in revenge. Eventually, though, formal greetings were done and he let himself smile warmly at Jin Ling and enjoy the bright smile Jin Ling always had for them in return.

From the side of the courtyard where some Jin disciples stood, quiet but carrying words cut through the air and froze that smile. "Looks like Lan really will pick up any stray dog that walks past them."

Jingyi's sword rang free as he whipped around to glare at them. "If you think you can criticize Lan, get out your sword and do it that way!" He lunged out of line, straight for the one who'd spoken, who fell back with a startled yelp.

For one breath, the eye of every Lan disciple, and most of those from other clans who were still in the courtyard, turned to Sizhui, expectant. Sizhui looked at the paleness of Jin Ling's face and the tight set of those normally-soft lips.

He calmly folded his hands, and said nothing.

Quick breaths drew in, all around him, rippling out like the mark of a raindrop on water. Every junior disciple in the court, and not a few of the seniors, rocked a step back from him. Sizhui stood still, hands folded, and watched until Jingyi had kicked the Jin disciple's feet out from under him and pinned him against the flagstones with a sword at his throat before he finally said, softly. "Jingyi. I'm sure he misspoke himself."

Jingyi raised a brow and prodded his captive lightly with the point of his sword. "That so?"

The other young man swallowed, looking more than a little wild-eyed, and nodded as vigorously as he was currently able. "Yes! Definitely!"

Sizhui smiled faintly. "I was sure it must be. Please do be careful, in the future, Qianbei."

There was silence in the courtyard as Jingyi came back to his side, which Sizhui approved of almost as much as he approved of the mixed amusement and exasperation that had displaced the tight hurt in Jin Ling's expression. He smiled at Jin Ling, calm and immovable, and Jin Ling rolled his eyes.

"The Lan Sect is welcome at this conference," he repeated meaningfully, sweeping a hand at the inner doors.

Jingyi nudged him, as they walked on, and flicked his eyes at Wangji-yifu's back. Sizhui considered the relaxed, if straight, line of his foster-father's shoulders and the ever so faint forward tilt of his head, and stifled a laugh. He shook his head just a little at Jingyi, reassuring; Wangji-yifu wasn't upset at them, not at all. Jingyi looked dubious, but subsided.

As they all filed into the wing set aside for them, Wangji-yifu did lay a hand on Sizhui's shoulder to hold them back, and Jingyi looked nervous again. Sizhui just looked up at his foster-father, perfectly steady in his determination to take care of the people who were precious to him, and Wangji-yifu nodded to him, lips curving faintly, and let him go.

That apparently made it Wei-xiong's turn to drape an arm over his shoulders. "A-Yuan's grown up so much!" His words were light, but the steady approval in his eyes made Sizhui duck his head, pleased.

Before Sizhui could answer, though, Jin Ling darted through the screens and banged them shut behind him. "I cannot believe you!" he hissed.

That immediately revived Jingyi, who smirked. "What? He didn't do anything at all."

Sizhui patted Wei-xiong's arm to be let go so he could go to Jin Ling and catch his hands before he started really yelling. "Xiao-Ling," he said, very softly, which got Jin Ling to pause. Sizhui smiled softly. "If you really want us to not defend you, I'm afraid that's going to be a bit difficult."

Jin Ling looked down at their hands. "Mm." After a moment to compose himself, though, he looked back up and added, "I need to stand on my own as sect master, though."

"I was avenging a slight to Lan," Jingyi said in a virtuous tone. "Nothing to do with Jin."

Jin Ling rolled his eyes mightily, and Sizhui squeezed his hands. "There's still nothing political about it. Jingyi and I support you personally. That's all."

Jin Ling chewed on his lip, and Wei-xiong finally spoke from where he was leaning against the wall beside Wangji-yifu, with no trace of the teasing tone he usually took with the younger disciples. "No one stands completely on their own, a-Ling."

Jin Ling stilled at his serious tone, suddenly looking uncertain and even younger than he was. "Really?"

"Really," Wei-xiong said, absolutely certain.

Jin Ling looked down at their laced hands with a tiny smile. "Oh."

Jingyi came to sling an arm around him. "Quit sulking and I promise I'll save some for you, next time."

Jin Ling's smile turned sharp and wicked. "Deal," he agreed.

Sizhui sighed, but didn't protest, and Jingyi's grin got a somewhat bloodthirsty edge to it. Sizhui didn't actually disapprove, so he said nothing of it, and after a long look at him Jin Ling laughed and threw his arms around them. Sizhui smiled and gathered him in, leaning against Jingyi. This was what he wanted. This was what he would defend.

He glanced over his shoulder at the rustle of robes, and caught his foster-father's eye as he started to turn away down the walkway, one hand at the small of Wei-xiong's back. Wangji-yifu gave him a faint nod, quiet approval in the relaxed lines around his eyes. And also in the grin Wei-xiong threw over his shoulder, for that matter. Sizhui ducked his head, feeling the happy warmth of their support settling in his chest.

"It's so cute, how he takes after you," Wei-xiong said as they walked away.

"He takes more after you," Wangji-yifu returned, sounding perfectly sober but obviously teasing back. Well, obviously to Sizhui anyway. Somehow, no one else ever seemed to get it.

"Lan Zhan, how can you be so blind about your own child?"

Sizhui tried to swallow a laugh, and Jingyi shook his head. "Hanguang-jun doesn't get any less scary just because Wei Wuxian is teasing him, Sizhui."

"He isn't scary at all," Sizhui protested, only to get disbelieving looks from both of them.

"He doesn't see it because he's scary the same way," Jingyi told Jin Ling, who nodded wisely.

"That sounds about right." He paused and added, "Especially after today." A smile was creeping over his face again, though, and he slanted a sidelong look at Sizhui. "It was actually kind of..."

Jingyi was grinning again. "It kind of is, isn't it?" he agreed. "Hey, you're being a good host, right? Why don't you show us our rooms?"

"Good idea."

Sizhui laughed as he let them drag him off, bright and open.

Yes. This was what he would defend.

End