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.
( ...oh. Oh, no. So many of these children would wish for siblings. After the war, Cloud Recesses fell and felt quieter. So much so that Lan Wangji cannot fault them a certain enthusiasm for company.
Still, this cannot be allowed to pass. With a light adjustment of his voice, he taps his own arm, calling forth a butterfly to deliver a soft-worded message to the caretaker. A diplomatic endeavor, likely to earn immense gratitude.
He turns back to Wei. Ying, one brow raised incredulously, after. )
And who taught Yuan such things? ( Beside him, a-Yuan's mouth opens wide as he stares at Wei Ying, as if he too wishes to say, Caught! )
[Instead of looking abashed or shocked at being outed like this, Wei Wuxian grins widely, a reflection of his smiles and laughter in his younger days, and a much larger mirror of Yuan's own. They may not be blood-related, but there's no mistaking who Yuan's father is, who taught him that expression.
Then he turns to his breakfast and takes up his chopsticks to fill his stomach in preparation for the day. He's being a good boy and following the Lan rules. No speaking during meals.
Deliberately planned to get a reaction out of his husband. And if it gets another giggle out of Yuan, that's a victory in itself.]
( Well, then. Let not Lan Wangji's disbelieving, staggered stare — amplified by Yuan, who imitates it flawlessly — ruin the moment. Surely, they can both hold vigil over Wei Ying's saddening attempt to relinquish responsibility with all gravity.
He does not roll his eyes. Does not look away. Only pivots to sipping his tea, aggressively glaring down the last of Wei Ying's meal, all the better to will it out of existence. )
Shall keep Wei Ying company, while Yuan educates the disciples. ( Apparently, on matters of reproduction. )
[It feels good, he thinks, to get on Lan Zhan's nerves like this, being judged for his mischief rather than his cultivation. It's been so long, and this makes him feel a little more alive, like the last years of war and poverty and sleeping on cold hard ground or rocks aren't as bad as they are. He really feels like Wei Ying in this moment, rather than Wei Wuxian or the Yiling Patriarch.
He dutifully finishes his meal in time so Lan Zhan can properly speak to him again, raising one arm so Yuan has room to crawl into his lap.]
A day without my radish that I pulled out of the dirt myself? It's a good thing I'm going to be with my husband, or else my heart will break from loneliness!
( What shall they do? Strategy dictates they should flood their schedule, finding a way to distract themselves from their current predicament. It won't do to meander over the same subject, over and over and over again. Not at all.
And so, he considers the matter of how he can occupy a grown man, coming slightly empty-handed, before brilliance strikes, and despair polishes it: )
Bathe in the cold stream. ( In the midst of winter. An undertaking only the Lan clan may enjoy, and that even some of its members might find troubling. Yes. A fine notion. )
[That's not an answer he was expecting, nor welcoming.
Wei Wuxian reels back, horror written all over his face.]
Lan Zhan! It's the middle of winter! [He clutches Yuan to his chest, as if he can stave off the cold just by having a child against him. Yuan is barely old enough to handle fall though, and he still needs a lot of extra layers to help him with winter.
At least he's used to Wei Wuxian's dramatics, and bears the clutching with ease.]
...thought it pleasing. ( Truly, Wei Ying's expression would sooner suit a funeral, yet here he is, determined to bury Lan Wangji with a glance, if he so much as flinches in the direction of materialising his suggestion.
In his arms, young Yuan shudders, and Lan Wangji raises both hands now, bewaring the possibility of mutiny. Mercy, mercy. )
We may linger here. ( Better to sweeten this offer — ) Where it is warm.
( And where Lan Wangji may seemingly reconsider his countless wrongs. )
[At that, Wei Wuxian relaxes. A day of doing nothing but lazing about... in the Cloud Recesses, no less! He could have only imagined this in his dreams. Yuan, however, has different ideas and asks if he can still go meet with his friends.]
Aiya, of course you can. You have too much energy in the mornings, someone needs to tire you out, and who better than a dozen little monsters like you?
[He stands, tossing Yuan up in the air a couple of times for no reason other than to hear him squeal with glee, and then sets him down and pats him on the back.]
Go get your clothes, time to get dressed. [And the reprieve gives Wei Wuxian time to lean on Lan Zhan.]
( They are together, alone, briefly. He thinks, more fool he, to nudge his husband to don his own day clothes, now that he has played long enough with his food. But then Wei Ying leans on him, their quarter is empty as Yuan fumbles in the adjacent one, and he takes his chance — lips crossing Wei Ying's temple in his own good morning.
They will have either all the time in the world, or barely these few hours. He cannot think of the worst outcome, therefore must prove — negligent with their time together. Slow. Indolent. )
Do you wish inks brought? ( For drawing, calligraphy. A leisure activity to occupy Wei Ying, if they're to spend a snowy day indoors. ) Weiqi?
[Wei Wuxian didn't even try to wheedle his good morning kiss from Lan Zhan, knowing that he'd had a long night, but he's still happy to receive it anyway. And he really should trust the man, when he wouldn't break a promise.
Every day is every day.]
Ink and paper would be nice to have on-hand if I get ideas. [He sighs and rests his cheek on Lan Zhan's shoulder.] Sometimes I can't help myself, I need to write it down and get to work, even if I'm doing something else.
Aiya, do you know how difficult it is when your thoughts refuse to be quiet and your fingers just need to work, but there's nothing on hand to put it all down on? I've lost good ideas to that-- I can't even remember any of it anymore!
( Ink, paper. More butterflies, same as the one gently requesting an escort for young master Yuan. The caretaker himself flies over, undaunted by the light powdering of snow dripping down outside, unwilling to surrender a child to the trek.
He introduces them again, Yuan and his one-day teacher, all pleasantries duly exchanged before the two excuse themselves. The caretaker, perhaps less enthusiastic than his charge, who hops and gasps and points and falls in awe at everything. Anything at all.
And so, left behind, watching them from the window as they disappear into a singular blitzing point in the horizon, Lan Wangji assesses his would-be husband once more. )
[In the time it takes for the paper to arrive and Yuan to be led away, Wei Wuxian has dressed himself properly-- two additional layers, just skirting along the lines of propriety.
And then he immediately descends on the supplies, grinding the inkstone so he can scribble Taoist diagrams on a pristine, expensive sheet of paper, complete with inkblots and awful calligraphy.]
I am, I am! I don't think I've felt this rested in a long time, Lan Zhan. And Yuan is so happy to have more playmates than just me.
Which hurts, a little. But I can only keep up with him to a point.
[To say nothing of his poor grandmother, the closest blood relative he has and the person he spends more time with than with Wei Wuxian. The things he must put her through.]
( Even Lan Wangji, for all his solitude, once entertained children of his age. It was only later, with grudging and educated maturity, and grief, that he surrendered companionship.
At least it appears as if Wei Ying is happy to toil away at his scrolls, as well entertained as a child. Lan Wangji laughs, nods, and amuses himself by offering out either fresh parchment or a different brush, only to watch Wei Ying wade through his chaos. )
[Somehow, over time, Wei Wuxian's doodles of diagrams have become full drafts of potential talismans, and his part in the conversation with his husband has become a little distracted. Half of his attention is on his work, and the other half is on Lan Zhan, and he really can't decide which he prefers to give all of it to.
At the very least he's not testing any of those talismans yet, especially the ones with the characters for "heat" and "fire".]
Aiya, I know. Children need to play, and not just with adults. [Then he pauses with his whole body, brush hanging just above the paper and slowly dripping.]
But he's the only child in the Burial Mounds. [If there had been more, Wei Wuxian would have taken them under his wing as well and not just keep Yuan.]
Then the table, the floor, perhaps the world whole. And it will not matter. Drip-drip-drip and the contagion of his ink spreads, and Lan Wangji can only stare, still impossibly charmed.
Long may he be spared a world where this man is no longer the epicenter. He could not bear it. He must not think of it. )
[Fortunately for Lan Zhan's desk and floor, that declaration gets Wei Wuxian to put his brush down into the inkstone and turn towards him-- though the paper is in fact stained and the diagrams are covered in ink blots. A fun puzzle to deal with later.
But for now--]
You want to keep him? [He starts to shuffle until he's sitting right next to his husband.] No matter what happens?
( Can he? In truth, for all his willingness, Lan Wangji suspects even Wei Ying would struggle to relinquish this child, his child. Cutting off company is not unlike severing a limb, and Wei Ying has long bled now.
But Yuan would sooner thrive here than in a wasteland of starvation, perpetually threatened. He knows so. They both know so. And so, he nods. )
It would be to his benefit. ( And, truly, Lan Wangji would be nothing to no one, if he cannot make such arrangements. ) Though he will have to shed his name.
[Wei Wuxian ha to nod at that. Of course Yuan will have to change his name. Whether he learned cultivation under Wei Wuxian or stayed in Gusu Lan... it's the same. The only thing changing is his family name.
He places his hand on Lan Zhan's.]
If I adopt A-Yuan properly, he will be my son in true and he can take my name. But you're my husband. [Emphasized with a squeeze to his hand.] He can take your name too.
[Yuan having the name Lan would sound good. Plus, his name is a homophone of Lan Zhan's and Zewu-jun's, he could fit into that family.]
( If he adopts Wen Yuan. Certainly, his blood family should have the final say, for all he suspects asking people succumbed into destitution is at best dishonest, and at worst manipulative. They will want the very best for their offspring. That is Wei Ying, that is Gusu Lan.
But Lan Wangji cannot find the words to speak so. He nods, barely perceptibly, and he turns the flat of his hand to squeeze Wei Ying's with sudden, strange enthusiasm. A pretty plan. Not fine, not fair, but pretty. )
Do it. ( Wei Ying, his beloved. Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying. ) If... the elders refuse the Wen. You will not come?
( Without them, he needn't say — and knows the answer, already. Hastens to mitigate it: )
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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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Still, this cannot be allowed to pass. With a light adjustment of his voice, he taps his own arm, calling forth a butterfly to deliver a soft-worded message to the caretaker. A diplomatic endeavor, likely to earn immense gratitude.
He turns back to Wei. Ying, one brow raised incredulously, after. )
And who taught Yuan such things? ( Beside him, a-Yuan's mouth opens wide as he stares at Wei Ying, as if he too wishes to say, Caught! )
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Then he turns to his breakfast and takes up his chopsticks to fill his stomach in preparation for the day. He's being a good boy and following the Lan rules. No speaking during meals.
Deliberately planned to get a reaction out of his husband. And if it gets another giggle out of Yuan, that's a victory in itself.]
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He does not roll his eyes. Does not look away. Only pivots to sipping his tea, aggressively glaring down the last of Wei Ying's meal, all the better to will it out of existence. )
Shall keep Wei Ying company, while Yuan educates the disciples. ( Apparently, on matters of reproduction. )
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He dutifully finishes his meal in time so Lan Zhan can properly speak to him again, raising one arm so Yuan has room to crawl into his lap.]
A day without my radish that I pulled out of the dirt myself? It's a good thing I'm going to be with my husband, or else my heart will break from loneliness!
[Then he leans on Lan Zhan's shoulder.]
What shall we do today, Lan Zhan?
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And so, he considers the matter of how he can occupy a grown man, coming slightly empty-handed, before brilliance strikes, and despair polishes it: )
Bathe in the cold stream. ( In the midst of winter. An undertaking only the Lan clan may enjoy, and that even some of its members might find troubling. Yes. A fine notion. )
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Wei Wuxian reels back, horror written all over his face.]
Lan Zhan! It's the middle of winter! [He clutches Yuan to his chest, as if he can stave off the cold just by having a child against him. Yuan is barely old enough to handle fall though, and he still needs a lot of extra layers to help him with winter.
At least he's used to Wei Wuxian's dramatics, and bears the clutching with ease.]
Do you want me frozen?
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In his arms, young Yuan shudders, and Lan Wangji raises both hands now, bewaring the possibility of mutiny. Mercy, mercy. )
We may linger here. ( Better to sweeten this offer — ) Where it is warm.
( And where Lan Wangji may seemingly reconsider his countless wrongs. )
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Aiya, of course you can. You have too much energy in the mornings, someone needs to tire you out, and who better than a dozen little monsters like you?
[He stands, tossing Yuan up in the air a couple of times for no reason other than to hear him squeal with glee, and then sets him down and pats him on the back.]
Go get your clothes, time to get dressed. [And the reprieve gives Wei Wuxian time to lean on Lan Zhan.]
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They will have either all the time in the world, or barely these few hours. He cannot think of the worst outcome, therefore must prove — negligent with their time together. Slow. Indolent. )
Do you wish inks brought? ( For drawing, calligraphy. A leisure activity to occupy Wei Ying, if they're to spend a snowy day indoors. ) Weiqi?
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Every day is every day.]
Ink and paper would be nice to have on-hand if I get ideas. [He sighs and rests his cheek on Lan Zhan's shoulder.] Sometimes I can't help myself, I need to write it down and get to work, even if I'm doing something else.
Aiya, do you know how difficult it is when your thoughts refuse to be quiet and your fingers just need to work, but there's nothing on hand to put it all down on? I've lost good ideas to that-- I can't even remember any of it anymore!
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He introduces them again, Yuan and his one-day teacher, all pleasantries duly exchanged before the two excuse themselves. The caretaker, perhaps less enthusiastic than his charge, who hops and gasps and points and falls in awe at everything. Anything at all.
And so, left behind, watching them from the window as they disappear into a singular blitzing point in the horizon, Lan Wangji assesses his would-be husband once more. )
You are well?
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And then he immediately descends on the supplies, grinding the inkstone so he can scribble Taoist diagrams on a pristine, expensive sheet of paper, complete with inkblots and awful calligraphy.]
I am, I am! I don't think I've felt this rested in a long time, Lan Zhan. And Yuan is so happy to have more playmates than just me.
Which hurts, a little. But I can only keep up with him to a point.
[To say nothing of his poor grandmother, the closest blood relative he has and the person he spends more time with than with Wei Wuxian. The things he must put her through.]
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( Even Lan Wangji, for all his solitude, once entertained children of his age. It was only later, with grudging and educated maturity, and grief, that he surrendered companionship.
At least it appears as if Wei Ying is happy to toil away at his scrolls, as well entertained as a child. Lan Wangji laughs, nods, and amuses himself by offering out either fresh parchment or a different brush, only to watch Wei Ying wade through his chaos. )
He would be happy here.
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At the very least he's not testing any of those talismans yet, especially the ones with the characters for "heat" and "fire".]
Aiya, I know. Children need to play, and not just with adults. [Then he pauses with his whole body, brush hanging just above the paper and slowly dripping.]
But he's the only child in the Burial Mounds. [If there had been more, Wei Wuxian would have taken them under his wing as well and not just keep Yuan.]
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Then the table, the floor, perhaps the world whole. And it will not matter. Drip-drip-drip and the contagion of his ink spreads, and Lan Wangji can only stare, still impossibly charmed.
Long may he be spared a world where this man is no longer the epicenter. He could not bear it. He must not think of it. )
Let him stay, come what may.
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But for now--]
You want to keep him? [He starts to shuffle until he's sitting right next to his husband.] No matter what happens?
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But Yuan would sooner thrive here than in a wasteland of starvation, perpetually threatened. He knows so. They both know so. And so, he nods. )
It would be to his benefit. ( And, truly, Lan Wangji would be nothing to no one, if he cannot make such arrangements. ) Though he will have to shed his name.
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He places his hand on Lan Zhan's.]
If I adopt A-Yuan properly, he will be my son in true and he can take my name. But you're my husband. [Emphasized with a squeeze to his hand.] He can take your name too.
[Yuan having the name Lan would sound good. Plus, his name is a homophone of Lan Zhan's and Zewu-jun's, he could fit into that family.]
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But Lan Wangji cannot find the words to speak so. He nods, barely perceptibly, and he turns the flat of his hand to squeeze Wei Ying's with sudden, strange enthusiasm. A pretty plan. Not fine, not fair, but pretty. )
Do it. ( Wei Ying, his beloved. Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying. ) If... the elders refuse the Wen. You will not come?
( Without them, he needn't say — and knows the answer, already. Hastens to mitigate it: )
Now and then. To visit.
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