[Instead of a word or two about Wei Wuxian's plight, or even a promise, he gets a wholly physical response, and he's not expecting it at all. He's expecting the wetness on his skin less, especially when he's quite sure that Lan Zhan's house-- their house is surely impeccably maintained.
That can only mean one thing, right?
Lan Zhan is crying? For him?
His heart melts for this man, and how much he feels for Wei Wuxian. Jade of Lan? Perhaps only for his beauty, and not because of the way his face is like stone. His heart certainly is not. How can Wei Wuxian deny him anything?
He kisses Lan Zhan, once, twice, then turns his head to kiss away those tears.]
( For a time, silent. Resolutely mute, brought together by the sickness of their dependency, without beginning or end. Percolating. They kiss, touch, sweep away tears. Lan Wangji's head drifts tentatively, until their foreheads connect, and they may breathe together, anchored.
This man. This man hurts, this man grieves, yet Lan Wangji clings to him as if to a fixture, adding to his troubles. His man. Oh, Wei Ying. Wei Ying. )
You have hurt so much, so long. ( Alone, bearing the aches of amputation, of doubt, of the cultivation world's injustice and offences — and the burden of his secrets. )
[With such a heavy secret now shared, Wei Wuxian feels boneless. Or perhaps more accurately, weightless, like a flimsy boat that has lost the cargo was keeping it relatively steady in the water. All he can do is close his eyes and rest his weight against his husband.
His dear, darling husband who has been nothing but supporting and caring of him this whole time. What sort of glorious deeds had he done in his past life to have Lan Zhan in this one?]
I did what I had to. [And he'd continue to do so. In fact, if it was required of him, whatever he did for Jiang Cheng would pale in comparison for whatever he'd do for Lan Zhan and Yuan if it meant keeping them safe and happy. He will just not say so because he knows that hearing such things will scare anyone. Perhaps scare them enough to scare them away from him.
( Three years. Three years of Lan Wangji sitting, hesitantly, among the ranks of those who questioned Wei Ying's devotion to orthodoxy. Three years of solitude, of estrangement. Three years of pain come — and never gone.
He does not secure permission first. By right, he should. Yet his hand flows down on Wei Ying's front, sitting where his core should sleep, first with questioning fingertips, then the flat of his palm. Nothing. Not now, nor ever forthcoming.
A shudder seizes him, and he aches once again. Aches without cure or resolution. His eyes shutter, and he pulls his touch away. )
[Is he disgusted with the fact that Wei Wuxian no longer has a core? Is he trying to find any last dredges if proper yang qi in Wei Wuxian? He doesn't understand the implications of Lan Zhan placing his hand on his chest only to withdraw like he'd just been burned.
He tries not to feel hurt.
Probably fails. Succeeds? Just a little bit. Half and half, some measure of control over his emotions even if the gesture still stings.]
Lan Zhan. [He reaches up, fingers skittering over his husband's palm before closing around his sleeve.] You'll protect me? That's a difficult promise to keep.
[Especially when Wei Wuxian refuses to stay put and be protected like a commoner. He wants to go hunting again. He wants to go adventuring.]
( A difficult promise, nigh impossible. He knows. Knows too that Wei Ying is correct to name his limitations. Yet still, it needles and bleeds him to consider that, for all his efforts — the world may prove indifferent. Wei Ying might deem he has not tried enough.
No matter. For now, his arms come and round and enclose to surround Wei Ying. He pulls his husband to himself, nudges him nigh on Lan Wangji's own lap. If he is near Wangji's thrumming, churning, furnace of a core, he need not be cold.
[If Lan Zhan is insisting... Wei Wuxian crawls into his lap, sits himself in between his husband's legs and curls up. Rests his head against Lan Zhan's chest so he can feel a heart that beats for him right underneath his ear. This small show of affection and comfort, and the signs of life, are exactly what Wei Wuxian needs to calm down and keep the memories of those haunting days at bay.
Then he reaches for his husband's hand and laces their fingers together.]
But Lan Zhan... What if I wanted to go night hunting with you? What if I wanted to explore the world with you? It's dangerous out there.
( Dangerous, and only more so now that Wei Ying has formally defected. Without the custody of a clan, his powers are rogue, wanton, desires. He is... a liability the sects can afford to claim requires neutralisation. Something they can thieve and wrest from each other's hands.
And he is so beautiful, Lan Wangji supposes. So frail, so lost in Lan Wangji's arms now, as he's brought close in an embrace that reassures him, more than Wei Ying, of the Yiling Patriarch's ultimate whereabouts.
Here, alive. Here, safe. )
I am your sword. I am your shield. I am your stair step.
Aiya. [Lan Zhan! So dramatic! Dramatic enough that it alarms Wei Wuxian, who could be part of a traveling acting troupe as a performer, with how he can just bullshit his way through anything.
He reaches up and pats Lan Zhan's cheek.]
You are my husband, not a tool, and definitely not something so lowly to step on.
You are my equal on every level. [Except in cultivation and in social standing, when Lan Zhan is the clear superior in both. He'll surely rise to greater heights in ten years, perhaps even five.] I don't want you to sacrifice yourself-- what am I to do with you gone? You're my husband.
( His husband, an equal. His husband, a creature of unusual habits. His husband, a wraith. His husband, his husband, his husband.
In the end, another inevitability: Wei Ying speaks his own pledges, and Lan Wangji shames himself, attention unfairly divided to sit on Wei Ying's mouth, its plush contours, its plumpness and shine.
It isn't, he suspects, ardor. Not desire in the base, animalistic sense. Only a quiet, ill satisfied need, to know and contain every part of another person. He dips in again, and this time the kiss is fleeting, admirably restrained. And again, and once more after. )
Zewu-Jun must know. ( Now, more than before, when it was a matter of whim and privilege. Wei Ying needs Lan Wangji's protection. )
( Firm, perhaps in ways he should reconsidered. Zewu-Jun has shown him nothing but kindness, nothing but consideration. If Lan Wangji were to present him with the truth — ...but in truth, he cannot.
They know, they both know, the strange, nebulous colors of his possessiveness. That Wei Ying has gifted him a truth his mere hands cannot hope to contain, and that he will guard it, and Wei Ying's privacy, jealously.
He shakes his head in silent, strained degrees. And still keeping Wei Ying close, as if a trinket of happiness, his plaything — )
( After all, Lan Wangji cannot plead for the unaffiliated defector of another sect. But he can intercede for his spouse.
And so he must, humbling himself, knees and floor to ground, and his pride battered and his privileges forgotten. He will go before his brother to ask as he never has, as he never should.
Holding nothing back. )
This evening. ( This cannot wait until tomorrow. ) Forgive me. Eat with Yuan alone. Shall dine with brother.
[At the very least their son is not the type to cry if one of his favorite people is not around for a bit, even if he may get extra clingy later.]
I assume you'll return home late, too. [Which means Yuan will be bereft of his other father for longer. Wei Wuxian might have to think of a few ways to get him to sleep.]
( If his prediction holds, he will be withheld first for explanations before his sect leader, then, unworthily, to bring his matter before the elders of the sect whole, called to an emergency conclave. But Wei Ying need not concern himself with Lan Wangji's private humiliation.
It happens, or it doesn't. He weathers it, or he doesn't. Either way, Wei Ying's cause must and will prevail. Too many lives depend on it.
And so, cautiously but resolutely, he releases Wei Ying. )
[Wei Wuxian will soon enough, it's almost time for Lan dinner-- time really flew when they were speaking, and when they were just holding onto each other for comfort. But he's not completely ready to let go of Lan Zhan's steady, strong warmth.
He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan's shoulders, presses his hands between wide shoulder blades connected by thick muscle. Straightens up, and bestows a kiss onto his husband's forehead, just above the embroidered ribbon so he can feel warm skin under his lips. One more sign of affection, and a hope for good fortune.]
Whatever happens, you are mine, and I take care of me and mine.
[Then he stands, adjusting his wrinkled clothes and wrapping his overcoat around him properly to prepare for the colder air outside.]
Let's dine together tomorrow as a family, all right?
( Together, as a family. How it breaks him to think that he has now two vulnerable dependents in his care, that he may never rely on Wei Ying for his own resilience. That this man, whom he kisses again, impassively, will age the quicker, the uglier, alone.
That even in the best of worlds, Lan Wangji will mourn his passing. He shudders, and it is cruel. Shudders, and it is ache. Shudders, and it is unthinkable.
Then, with utmost care, as Wei Ying stands first, he withdraws into himself, remembering the expectations cast upon Lan Wangji of Gusu Lan, how he must show, at long last, strength. )
Let it be done.
( And just so, hesitantly but bolstered, he raises himself to seek out his brother's counsel. )
[He fvors Lan Zhan one last smile before he goes off to peek in on Yuan, and collect him when it's time for all good little ones to return home, or the nursery.
An evening in Cloud Recesses without his husband... lonely. Made less so with their son who has so many tales to tell about his afternoon, but he still feels the lack of Lan Zhan's presence keenly. A-Yuan seems to agree, because he crawls into bed with Wei Wuxian, and the two curled up together in a small corner of the bed, the child almost engulfed by Wei Wuxian's robes and the blanket he has wrapped around them.
Wei Wuxian thought he could have stayed awake until Lan Zhan returned, but he's exhausted by the emotional responses from the afternoon, he's out like a candle as soon as Yuan snuggles into him.]
First, the talk with Zewu-Jun, murmured, sedate. Hix brother's agony to hear Lan Wangji has breached every etiquette and succumbed Cloud Recesses in a diplomatic quagmire. His gladness after, that Hanguang-Jun has met contentment.
Then his uncle, the same tale, reception gelid but firm. It is a choice made, and it will be honoured, and the unorthodox Wei Wuxian will receive what respect the sect can spare him. Then, their elders, faces wan, drawn, guarded.
At several points, Lan Wangji is dismissed, then called again for questions. More often than not, the words are the same. He does not lose patience. He does not begrudge.
Not until midnight has long fled, and he is sent to his quarters. There, dim candle light, gentle warmth. His two charges, sleeping.
He shames himself, barely sparing the time to silently pass water over his body, before slipping into sleeping silks and retiring on the lesser bed, prepared for Yuan. A bad fit, but inevitable.
Come morning, he wakes first, body startled by habit. He hushes the child, himself already awake, and calls him for ablutions. By the time of Wei Ying's own stirring, they wait at the low table, breakfast long brought and Lan Wangji taking his tea. )
[Wei Wuxian wakes, not because it's his usual time, but because he's lost the baby cuddling him, his small source of warmth. He sits up blearily, and goes through the motions of the morning the same way, wandering about and washing his face with cold water, then draping himself against Lan Zhan's warm back and sighing into his neck.]
G'mornin' Lan Zhan...
[Then he picks up Yuan and clings to him like a little pillow, listening to the child giggle as he snuffles into his hair.]
( Late, if somewhat productive, his mouth curled in an unbothered line. There are words to speak, all discouraging. He cannot serve Wei Ying his doubts. Instead, he answers the affection with a squeeze of Wei Ying's arm, with the tip of his head.
His mouth chases the ghost of Wei Ying's warmth, missing his cheek. Ah. So be it.
Yuan, at least, is thoroughly satisfied, laughing at the onslaught of affection. Lan Wangji shifts to allow them their easy exchange, turning instead to devote himself to filling out three of the unused, clinking bowls, to excess with the breakfast offering. )
Brother and the elders convene today among themselves.
( Best they do not trouble themselves with the conclusion. )
To distract himself from his anxiously-beating heart, he leans in to peck a kiss onto Lan Zhan's cheek, a proper morning greeting for his husband.]
A shame, we could have left A-Yuan with your brother for the day so they can get acquainted. [And for Wei Wuxian to be free of childminding duties so he can attach himself to Lan Zhan the way a snail attaches to any surface.
Then he shamelessly deposits Yuan in between them, so the boy can feel the warmth of both of his fathers.]
( Unknowingly, Yuan — who, despite the tumultuous nature of his upbringing, still finds the manners to look up questioningly at Lan Wangji before picking out the finer crisp vegetables from his bowl — acts as a shield between them. It is an art not to wage a war of anxieties, between two men grown.
Lan Wangji finds both of their protests and questions silent, suspended. Their war unwaged, their mouths sweet and tame. Here, inevitably, they must act at their finest, and so he briefly diverts himself with the child, teaching him, also, to fill out Wei Ying's bowls. Duly attended. )
Eat with us. ( In truth, by now, Wei Ying will be eating either alone or with the rare companionship of Yuan, who picks away at the dregs of what's gone untouched of Lan Wangji's portion. ) Yuan wishes to see his infant disciple friends.
( To think, brought here to vacation with his caretaker, and he abandons Wei Ying shamelessly for the nursery. )
Their minder has to be more careful today. [No surprises that the name has already been forgotten.] I heard from a certain little radish that he taught the children where babies come from and grow.
[Then he strokes the back of his hand over one cheek. Yuan is not as chubby as his new friends, but Wei Wuxian hopes that he will fill out nicely by the end of the week. Then he starts giving Yuan the finest pickings from his bowl.]
Better hope the Gusu Lan vegetable patch is strong enough to withstand multiple children trying to plant each other in it, otherwise.
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That can only mean one thing, right?
Lan Zhan is crying? For him?
His heart melts for this man, and how much he feels for Wei Wuxian. Jade of Lan? Perhaps only for his beauty, and not because of the way his face is like stone. His heart certainly is not. How can Wei Wuxian deny him anything?
He kisses Lan Zhan, once, twice, then turns his head to kiss away those tears.]
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This man. This man hurts, this man grieves, yet Lan Wangji clings to him as if to a fixture, adding to his troubles. His man. Oh, Wei Ying. Wei Ying. )
You have hurt so much, so long. ( Alone, bearing the aches of amputation, of doubt, of the cultivation world's injustice and offences — and the burden of his secrets. )
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His dear, darling husband who has been nothing but supporting and caring of him this whole time. What sort of glorious deeds had he done in his past life to have Lan Zhan in this one?]
I did what I had to. [And he'd continue to do so. In fact, if it was required of him, whatever he did for Jiang Cheng would pale in comparison for whatever he'd do for Lan Zhan and Yuan if it meant keeping them safe and happy. He will just not say so because he knows that hearing such things will scare anyone. Perhaps scare them enough to scare them away from him.
He doesn't want that.]
And I've had three years to live with it now.
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He does not secure permission first. By right, he should. Yet his hand flows down on Wei Ying's front, sitting where his core should sleep, first with questioning fingertips, then the flat of his palm. Nothing. Not now, nor ever forthcoming.
A shudder seizes him, and he aches once again. Aches without cure or resolution. His eyes shutter, and he pulls his touch away. )
You will never hurt again. I pledge.
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He tries not to feel hurt.
Probably fails. Succeeds? Just a little bit. Half and half, some measure of control over his emotions even if the gesture still stings.]
Lan Zhan. [He reaches up, fingers skittering over his husband's palm before closing around his sleeve.] You'll protect me? That's a difficult promise to keep.
[Especially when Wei Wuxian refuses to stay put and be protected like a commoner. He wants to go hunting again. He wants to go adventuring.]
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No matter. For now, his arms come and round and enclose to surround Wei Ying. He pulls his husband to himself, nudges him nigh on Lan Wangji's own lap. If he is near Wangji's thrumming, churning, furnace of a core, he need not be cold.
No, he need never be cold again. No assisted. )
Let this be my worry.
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Then he reaches for his husband's hand and laces their fingers together.]
But Lan Zhan... What if I wanted to go night hunting with you? What if I wanted to explore the world with you? It's dangerous out there.
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And he is so beautiful, Lan Wangji supposes. So frail, so lost in Lan Wangji's arms now, as he's brought close in an embrace that reassures him, more than Wei Ying, of the Yiling Patriarch's ultimate whereabouts.
Here, alive. Here, safe. )
I am your sword. I am your shield. I am your stair step.
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He reaches up and pats Lan Zhan's cheek.]
You are my husband, not a tool, and definitely not something so lowly to step on.
You are my equal on every level. [Except in cultivation and in social standing, when Lan Zhan is the clear superior in both. He'll surely rise to greater heights in ten years, perhaps even five.] I don't want you to sacrifice yourself-- what am I to do with you gone? You're my husband.
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In the end, another inevitability: Wei Ying speaks his own pledges, and Lan Wangji shames himself, attention unfairly divided to sit on Wei Ying's mouth, its plush contours, its plumpness and shine.
It isn't, he suspects, ardor. Not desire in the base, animalistic sense. Only a quiet, ill satisfied need, to know and contain every part of another person. He dips in again, and this time the kiss is fleeting, admirably restrained. And again, and once more after. )
Zewu-Jun must know. ( Now, more than before, when it was a matter of whim and privilege. Wei Ying needs Lan Wangji's protection. )
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Wei Wuxian blinks stupidly up at Lan Zhan before looking down at hishands.]
Could you only... tell him that I have no core? Could you keep the rest of the story secret?
[He can't expect Lan Zhan to lie to his own brother and sect leader. But he doesn't want more people knowing the whole truth either.]
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( Firm, perhaps in ways he should reconsidered. Zewu-Jun has shown him nothing but kindness, nothing but consideration. If Lan Wangji were to present him with the truth — ...but in truth, he cannot.
They know, they both know, the strange, nebulous colors of his possessiveness. That Wei Ying has gifted him a truth his mere hands cannot hope to contain, and that he will guard it, and Wei Ying's privacy, jealously.
He shakes his head in silent, strained degrees. And still keeping Wei Ying close, as if a trinket of happiness, his plaything — )
Only of the marriage. To protect you as our own.
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He's not going to have his shame further spread! He's so relieved that he practically sags in Lan Zhan's lap, and clings to him for support.]
You'll tell him? Along with your discussion about the Wens? [The very talk that sparked Wei Wuxian's decision to tell his husband his troubles.]
All right. I'm not sure I like being treated like a delicate flower, but all right.
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( After all, Lan Wangji cannot plead for the unaffiliated defector of another sect. But he can intercede for his spouse.
And so he must, humbling himself, knees and floor to ground, and his pride battered and his privileges forgotten. He will go before his brother to ask as he never has, as he never should.
Holding nothing back. )
This evening. ( This cannot wait until tomorrow. ) Forgive me. Eat with Yuan alone. Shall dine with brother.
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[At the very least their son is not the type to cry if one of his favorite people is not around for a bit, even if he may get extra clingy later.]
I assume you'll return home late, too. [Which means Yuan will be bereft of his other father for longer. Wei Wuxian might have to think of a few ways to get him to sleep.]
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( If his prediction holds, he will be withheld first for explanations before his sect leader, then, unworthily, to bring his matter before the elders of the sect whole, called to an emergency conclave. But Wei Ying need not concern himself with Lan Wangji's private humiliation.
It happens, or it doesn't. He weathers it, or he doesn't. Either way, Wei Ying's cause must and will prevail. Too many lives depend on it.
And so, cautiously but resolutely, he releases Wei Ying. )
You recall the path. Go collect him.
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He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan's shoulders, presses his hands between wide shoulder blades connected by thick muscle. Straightens up, and bestows a kiss onto his husband's forehead, just above the embroidered ribbon so he can feel warm skin under his lips. One more sign of affection, and a hope for good fortune.]
Whatever happens, you are mine, and I take care of me and mine.
[Then he stands, adjusting his wrinkled clothes and wrapping his overcoat around him properly to prepare for the colder air outside.]
Let's dine together tomorrow as a family, all right?
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That even in the best of worlds, Lan Wangji will mourn his passing. He shudders, and it is cruel. Shudders, and it is ache. Shudders, and it is unthinkable.
Then, with utmost care, as Wei Ying stands first, he withdraws into himself, remembering the expectations cast upon Lan Wangji of Gusu Lan, how he must show, at long last, strength. )
Let it be done.
( And just so, hesitantly but bolstered, he raises himself to seek out his brother's counsel. )
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An evening in Cloud Recesses without his husband... lonely. Made less so with their son who has so many tales to tell about his afternoon, but he still feels the lack of Lan Zhan's presence keenly. A-Yuan seems to agree, because he crawls into bed with Wei Wuxian, and the two curled up together in a small corner of the bed, the child almost engulfed by Wei Wuxian's robes and the blanket he has wrapped around them.
Wei Wuxian thought he could have stayed awake until Lan Zhan returned, but he's exhausted by the emotional responses from the afternoon, he's out like a candle as soon as Yuan snuggles into him.]
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First, the talk with Zewu-Jun, murmured, sedate. Hix brother's agony to hear Lan Wangji has breached every etiquette and succumbed Cloud Recesses in a diplomatic quagmire. His gladness after, that Hanguang-Jun has met contentment.
Then his uncle, the same tale, reception gelid but firm. It is a choice made, and it will be honoured, and the unorthodox Wei Wuxian will receive what respect the sect can spare him. Then, their elders, faces wan, drawn, guarded.
At several points, Lan Wangji is dismissed, then called again for questions. More often than not, the words are the same. He does not lose patience. He does not begrudge.
Not until midnight has long fled, and he is sent to his quarters. There, dim candle light, gentle warmth. His two charges, sleeping.
He shames himself, barely sparing the time to silently pass water over his body, before slipping into sleeping silks and retiring on the lesser bed, prepared for Yuan. A bad fit, but inevitable.
Come morning, he wakes first, body startled by habit. He hushes the child, himself already awake, and calls him for ablutions. By the time of Wei Ying's own stirring, they wait at the low table, breakfast long brought and Lan Wangji taking his tea. )
Good morning.
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G'mornin' Lan Zhan...
[Then he picks up Yuan and clings to him like a little pillow, listening to the child giggle as he snuffles into his hair.]
Were you late last night?
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( Late, if somewhat productive, his mouth curled in an unbothered line. There are words to speak, all discouraging. He cannot serve Wei Ying his doubts. Instead, he answers the affection with a squeeze of Wei Ying's arm, with the tip of his head.
His mouth chases the ghost of Wei Ying's warmth, missing his cheek. Ah. So be it.
Yuan, at least, is thoroughly satisfied, laughing at the onslaught of affection. Lan Wangji shifts to allow them their easy exchange, turning instead to devote himself to filling out three of the unused, clinking bowls, to excess with the breakfast offering. )
Brother and the elders convene today among themselves.
( Best they do not trouble themselves with the conclusion. )
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To distract himself from his anxiously-beating heart, he leans in to peck a kiss onto Lan Zhan's cheek, a proper morning greeting for his husband.]
A shame, we could have left A-Yuan with your brother for the day so they can get acquainted. [And for Wei Wuxian to be free of childminding duties so he can attach himself to Lan Zhan the way a snail attaches to any surface.
Then he shamelessly deposits Yuan in between them, so the boy can feel the warmth of both of his fathers.]
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Lan Wangji finds both of their protests and questions silent, suspended. Their war unwaged, their mouths sweet and tame. Here, inevitably, they must act at their finest, and so he briefly diverts himself with the child, teaching him, also, to fill out Wei Ying's bowls. Duly attended. )
Eat with us. ( In truth, by now, Wei Ying will be eating either alone or with the rare companionship of Yuan, who picks away at the dregs of what's gone untouched of Lan Wangji's portion. ) Yuan wishes to see his infant disciple friends.
( To think, brought here to vacation with his caretaker, and he abandons Wei Ying shamelessly for the nursery. )
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Their minder has to be more careful today. [No surprises that the name has already been forgotten.] I heard from a certain little radish that he taught the children where babies come from and grow.
[Then he strokes the back of his hand over one cheek. Yuan is not as chubby as his new friends, but Wei Wuxian hopes that he will fill out nicely by the end of the week. Then he starts giving Yuan the finest pickings from his bowl.]
Better hope the Gusu Lan vegetable patch is strong enough to withstand multiple children trying to plant each other in it, otherwise.
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