( 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: )
[If the elders say no. More sect politics. The very thought of it brings a tinge of red to Wei Wuxian's eyes, before he forces the resentful qi down. What's the use of having a sect leader when elders have final say? It's so insulting to Zewu-jun, who led the Lans so well during the war, having to deal with old bastards who can just deny everything he says if they don't like what he's putting forward.
He pushes that thought away, not wanting to give into pessimism-- if he and his refugees are denied, then he'll find another way. At the very least, Yuan will have a better future. But he wants to think that things will look up for him.
He squeezes Lan Zhan's hand, but finds that the contact is no longer enough , and splays himself all over his husband's lap.]
I will. As long as you're my husband and he's my son, I'll visit.
[Traveling between Yiling and Gusu on a regular basis will be difficult on him without a sword and he could get a horse or donkey, but he has no idea how to help an animal survive in the Burial Mounds. Maybe it can eat their extra radishes, but they need those radishes to sell and earn money.
As long as the sun rises in the east and sets westward. As long as Lan Wangji's hand, tremulous and artless at first, wades over the warm stretch of Wei Ying's forehead, when he assumes his position over Hanguang-Jun's lap.
One stroke, tender. The second, more measured. He has hardly learned affection, never perfected it; but he will not disappoint here and now, this only man who matters. His fingers are too callused for this, too harsh, too biting.
He breathes in and out, and he allows himself these scant, trickling seconds of enjoyment. )
[Despite all the trials and squabbles they've gone through to get here, Lan Zhan is surprisingly easy to please.
Words of assurance and the chance to touch... Very easy indeed.
Not like Wei Wuxian is any different, himself. He's happy to be here, basking in the attebtion of someone who adores him so, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of that large hand on his skin, despite everything that has happened between them. Despite his terrible reputation and the state of cultivator society.]
You may not have more to ask, but I do! I do!
[Without missing a beat or opening his eyes.]
When did your feeling start? I never noticed them!
( When did his feelings start? He feels, at time, as if he was born with an ache of longing in his hollowed chest, and it only pivoted its source. From his mother, to Wei Ying, the hurt continuous.
He cannot riddle the specifics. Cannot begin to think of himself as a transparent, knowable thing, when so often he is accused of opacity. In Wei Ying's hair, his fingers tangle, linger. )
...don't remember. ( A truth, however foolish. ) Perhaps a few months gone. A lifetime. I do not recall their absence.
( A love so powerful, so corrosive, it consumed his world. )
[He doesn't wholly understand what Lan Zhan is saying, but he thinks he gets the idea.
He just wonders though... who did Lan Zhan love before him? Or was it just him, and his love faded for a little bit? Perhaps Wei Wuxian was being particularly obnoxious at the time... Or perhaps that was during the early days of Sunshot, when he'd just emerged from the Burial Mounds. He wants to ask. But he doesn't want to, at the same time. He's just afraid of the answer and the feelings it would surely cause-- the same reason he doesn't tell Lan Zhan that he, too, likes him and genuinely sees him as his spouse.
Instead, Wei Wuxian soaks in Lan Zhan's touch, enjoying the feeling of something that he only ever remembers his shijie doing for him. Surely his mother did as well, but he doesn't remember. His husband's hands are a good deal thicker and rougher than Jiang Yanli's but good all the same.]
If it's tough for you to remember, that's fine. I'll just be flattered that you liked me even for that long. [Then he pats Lan Zhan's thigh.]
You should have told me though! Look at all that wasted time, when we could have been doing more things together. [Though he has no idea if that would have made a difference, when he left the guest lectures early, and he imagines that part to still be the same because he would still brawl Jin Zixuan for that awful mouth of his.]
( He murmurs it, as if it may be forgotten, yet the truth hangs: Wei Ying concedes to him, has wilted on his lap and is accepting of his attention, because he has no contender. No alternative.
The truth of his willingness is a different beast. Boredom, force and convenience have shaped his cordiality. Long-term interest, too, if the safety of either Yuan specifically or the Wen more generally can be secured.
And despite it all, Lan Wangji cannot fault him. Wei Ying has suffered far too long, to be begrudged any slyness, any weakness of character that might direct him to submit to his husband for his own gain. Let him have it. Let him have everything.
He strokes Wei Ying's hair and his forehead, and he cups his jaw, and he is content. )
[If he were a cat, he'd be purring right now. He stretches like one, arms above his head and arching over Lan Zhan's lap, before he opens his eyes and grins up at his husband.]
We can make up for lost time, right? [To do what, exactly? Wei Wuxian isn't sure himself. He just knows that they could have done more than bicker and fight these past few years, and he wants to do what these things are.]
You and me, and sometimes the baby. Perhaps babies.
( The baby. The babies. Not unexpectedly, and to Wei Ying's probable satisfaction, he flushes unseemingly, reduced to the worst of his juvenile sensitivity, his consummate shyness.
His hand stills, paralyzed in place by audacity alone. How dare he. Truly. Doesn't this Yunmeng wretch know he speaks to — ...his husband. In truth, he has the right. )
[Wei Wuxian grins-- with him now being allowed in Lan Zhan's close proximity any time he likes, he can watch his husband's face any time, and study his reactions. This shy look is cute. It makes Wei Wuxian want to tease him more.]
We'll plant a seed among the vegetables, of course! And if we want more, we just plant that child again.
[He reaches up and pats Lan Zhan on the cheek. His husband should stop being so cute if he wants Wei Wuxian to stop teasing him.
Of course he's well aware that this is not how people have children. He's read books and heard stories. He'd seen pregnant women all the time back before Lotus Pier fell, and he's sure that there are some now, as it's rebuilding. He's sure all the sects do by now. But they are both men, and neither of them have a womb. Adoption is the best they could hope for, unless something impossible happens.
A thought that he will have to tuck away for later.]
Lan Zhan, what are you thinking, hm? Something naughty? [Asking that takes a lot of courage out of him, because he's never done that, and so far, outside of a few heated kisses, their marriage has been quite... chaste.]
( Naughty. As if he knows how, as if it might ever be permitted. He knows, they both know, they have ever been different creatures, frailed by their breeding. Lan Wangji's has never prioritized worldly, carnal pleasures.
And so he finds himself... lacking. A likely discouraging prospect, his failure as a groom. Had they enjoyed a proper matchmaking, Wei Ying's representatives might have called Lan Wangji's qualifications in bedplay under question.
But they have never enjoyed such scrutiny over their suitability. He must acknowledge it now, flushing, gaze descended, fingers straying away from Wei Ying to fold gently at his sides. )
It... is not a requirement. For me. ( He will not force his wants on Wei Ying, certainly not while also lacking skill. If Wei Ying only wishes them to be as friends, it can be permitted. )
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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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He pushes that thought away, not wanting to give into pessimism-- if he and his refugees are denied, then he'll find another way. At the very least, Yuan will have a better future. But he wants to think that things will look up for him.
He squeezes Lan Zhan's hand, but finds that the contact is no longer enough , and splays himself all over his husband's lap.]
I will. As long as you're my husband and he's my son, I'll visit.
[Traveling between Yiling and Gusu on a regular basis will be difficult on him without a sword and he could get a horse or donkey, but he has no idea how to help an animal survive in the Burial Mounds. Maybe it can eat their extra radishes, but they need those radishes to sell and earn money.
He'll think of something.]
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As long as the sun rises in the east and sets westward. As long as Lan Wangji's hand, tremulous and artless at first, wades over the warm stretch of Wei Ying's forehead, when he assumes his position over Hanguang-Jun's lap.
One stroke, tender. The second, more measured. He has hardly learned affection, never perfected it; but he will not disappoint here and now, this only man who matters. His fingers are too callused for this, too harsh, too biting.
He breathes in and out, and he allows himself these scant, trickling seconds of enjoyment. )
Then, I ask no more of you.
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Words of assurance and the chance to touch... Very easy indeed.
Not like Wei Wuxian is any different, himself. He's happy to be here, basking in the attebtion of someone who adores him so, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of that large hand on his skin, despite everything that has happened between them. Despite his terrible reputation and the state of cultivator society.]
You may not have more to ask, but I do! I do!
[Without missing a beat or opening his eyes.]
When did your feeling start? I never noticed them!
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He cannot riddle the specifics. Cannot begin to think of himself as a transparent, knowable thing, when so often he is accused of opacity. In Wei Ying's hair, his fingers tangle, linger. )
...don't remember. ( A truth, however foolish. ) Perhaps a few months gone. A lifetime. I do not recall their absence.
( A love so powerful, so corrosive, it consumed his world. )
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He just wonders though... who did Lan Zhan love before him? Or was it just him, and his love faded for a little bit? Perhaps Wei Wuxian was being particularly obnoxious at the time... Or perhaps that was during the early days of Sunshot, when he'd just emerged from the Burial Mounds. He wants to ask. But he doesn't want to, at the same time. He's just afraid of the answer and the feelings it would surely cause-- the same reason he doesn't tell Lan Zhan that he, too, likes him and genuinely sees him as his spouse.
Instead, Wei Wuxian soaks in Lan Zhan's touch, enjoying the feeling of something that he only ever remembers his shijie doing for him. Surely his mother did as well, but he doesn't remember. His husband's hands are a good deal thicker and rougher than Jiang Yanli's but good all the same.]
If it's tough for you to remember, that's fine. I'll just be flattered that you liked me even for that long. [Then he pats Lan Zhan's thigh.]
You should have told me though! Look at all that wasted time, when we could have been doing more things together. [Though he has no idea if that would have made a difference, when he left the guest lectures early, and he imagines that part to still be the same because he would still brawl Jin Zixuan for that awful mouth of his.]
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( He murmurs it, as if it may be forgotten, yet the truth hangs: Wei Ying concedes to him, has wilted on his lap and is accepting of his attention, because he has no contender. No alternative.
The truth of his willingness is a different beast. Boredom, force and convenience have shaped his cordiality. Long-term interest, too, if the safety of either Yuan specifically or the Wen more generally can be secured.
And despite it all, Lan Wangji cannot fault him. Wei Ying has suffered far too long, to be begrudged any slyness, any weakness of character that might direct him to submit to his husband for his own gain. Let him have it. Let him have everything.
He strokes Wei Ying's hair and his forehead, and he cups his jaw, and he is content. )
We have the time.
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We can make up for lost time, right? [To do what, exactly? Wei Wuxian isn't sure himself. He just knows that they could have done more than bicker and fight these past few years, and he wants to do what these things are.]
You and me, and sometimes the baby. Perhaps babies.
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His hand stills, paralyzed in place by audacity alone. How dare he. Truly. Doesn't this Yunmeng wretch know he speaks to — ...his husband. In truth, he has the right. )
How will you make more children?
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We'll plant a seed among the vegetables, of course! And if we want more, we just plant that child again.
[He reaches up and pats Lan Zhan on the cheek. His husband should stop being so cute if he wants Wei Wuxian to stop teasing him.
Of course he's well aware that this is not how people have children. He's read books and heard stories. He'd seen pregnant women all the time back before Lotus Pier fell, and he's sure that there are some now, as it's rebuilding. He's sure all the sects do by now. But they are both men, and neither of them have a womb. Adoption is the best they could hope for, unless something impossible happens.
A thought that he will have to tuck away for later.]
Lan Zhan, what are you thinking, hm? Something naughty? [Asking that takes a lot of courage out of him, because he's never done that, and so far, outside of a few heated kisses, their marriage has been quite... chaste.]
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And so he finds himself... lacking. A likely discouraging prospect, his failure as a groom. Had they enjoyed a proper matchmaking, Wei Ying's representatives might have called Lan Wangji's qualifications in bedplay under question.
But they have never enjoyed such scrutiny over their suitability. He must acknowledge it now, flushing, gaze descended, fingers straying away from Wei Ying to fold gently at his sides. )
It... is not a requirement. For me. ( He will not force his wants on Wei Ying, certainly not while also lacking skill. If Wei Ying only wishes them to be as friends, it can be permitted. )
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