Ah, so you want me to show with my actions instead? [So picky! So fussy!
So endearing.
He taps at his chin as if thinking about it, even if he doesn't actually need to. Lan Zhan's demands are good enough for him, because he feels his skin crawl every time he says something sappy or soft, he needs some levity.
He kisses his way along Lan Zhan's jawline until he reaches his husband's mouth, and offers himself freely, parting his lips.]
( Picky, fussy. Endearing, says Wei Ying. Kissable, say Wei Ying's actions. They come together, and it's more of the same, sweet kisses leading no where, building to nothing, wholly purposeless and all the finer for it.
He is enchanted by their restraint, their modesty, their willingness to abide. To court, as they might, if they had a chaperone. )
[There's something to be said about how sweet their kisses are right now, how they don't burn him up but instead make him want to melt into Lan Zhan and stay there forever. He wants to keep kissing Lan Zhan, but even if they keep saying that they have so much time now, there's almost never enough time to just be.
One would think, given how long cultivator lives can be, that they're more casual about many things, but no. Many things can happen so quickly. He's intent on savoring this as much as he can. This small moment of peace with the one person who makes him feel whole.
It's why he whines a little when Lan Zhan tells him to be good instead of kissing him more.]
Me? Be good? Lan Zhan, I'm always good! [Even if he has likely driven Lan Qiren into fits when he was last in Cloud Recesses.]
( Always good. Lover and liar and a wonderful man, Lan Wangji's own. And frustrated, in ways he begins to suspect relate far more with the feeling of inertia, of being forced to slow down to Wangji's own measured, simmering pace.
He wants to apologise. Can't. If he begins something here, hands already quarreling and tightening in white-knuckled fists on his lap, he will not gladly end it. He knows enough about himself and his weakness to conclude this.
Perhaps he has assumed in vain that Wei Ying does as well. For a moments, his gaze slips down, finds the floor. He hesitates. )
I... am not. That is why... I cannot be trusted to set aside what we begin.
Ah? [He pauses, tilting his head as he mulls those words over a little bit. It's impossible for him to thin of Lan Zhan as not being good, but if he says so, that means he thinks he's violating one of those three thousand rules on that rock. Given their current circumstance...
He follows Lan Zhan's gaze down, and notes how he's balling his fists up so hard, his knuckles are becoming more prominent.
He thinks he gets it.]
Lan Zhan, are you...? Aiya, it's not a bad thing, you know. Awkward, but not bad!
( Awkward, like the part and whole of him, as if he needs further disgrace. As if they don't both know his critical inexperience in matters of the heart is frankly ruinous.
For a moment, he holds silent, pensive, incapable of expressing himself wholly, of delivering the full extent of his thoughts. Then, he positions his hands on his knees, bracing, head still bowed as if offering the honours due to an elder, or to divinity.
He is a penitent in such things, owing his husband respect. )
I want you. ( Let this much be clear. ) But a marriage is not mere desire.
[Oh. It's one thing to know that Lan Zhan likes him, another to hear that he wants him. Wholly. Wants him despite his desire to go slowly because they charged into this relationship like a spooked cart horse thunders down a street.
Wei Wuxian's throat suddenly feels dry. He's suddenly conscious of where he's sitting, his legs and arms still around Lan Zhan when his husband is insistent on not touching him. He drops them, and sits on his ankles, but he's still right in front of Lan Zhan, their knees just about touching.]
You want... things like mutual feelings too. [Which is not unusual when it comes to marriages that are not arranged, nor preposterous for Lan Zhan himself to want.
Wei Wuxian is just no good at dealing with feelings. He doesn't want to examine them because they will inevitably hurt, or the other person will realize that they just don't want the feelings that Wei Wuxian gives them.
Like right now. It hurts that Lan Zhan doubts him so when they're so deep into this now.]
( And that Wei Ying, so long submerged in the hatred, disbelief and contempt of others, might so easily mistake his own appreciation for admiration, for affection, for more. He shakes his head, tender. )
Wei Ying has long not received kindness.
( For a thirsting man, every droplet of water overwhelms. It cannot be helped. Wei Ying cannot be helped — nor, in his own way, trusted. It would be the simplest, the least demanding thing to submit to his instincts and presume to misinterpret Wei Ying's gentle acceptance as true interest.
Perhaps it is — while Lan Wangji is his only option. )
[Everything stops for Wei Wuxian. He even forgets to breathe for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is reedy.]
You think I'm doing this because I'm grateful.
Because I want to keep your favor. You think I'm using my body and your interest in me to keep it.
[The worst part of this accusation is that he has done it before. Time and time again, he had done everything to make sure that the Jiangs don't throw him back onto the streets. That he's pulling his weight, not more trouble than he's worth. But right now he's so, so sure that he's not doing the same thing to Lan Zhan, that he's doing this because he wants to.
He stands up, turns around and sits himself at the windowsill, hands tucked against his body. He hurts, in more ways than one.]
( How did they come to this? Distance, accusations. Wei Ying withdrawing into himself, the specter of outrage, virtue and character equally offended. Lan Wangji thinks to follow him, rises up, extends a hand —
But falls short of touch, coaxed back into discipline. He cannot selfishly inflict himself on a man clearly wounded, only to ease Lan Wangji's own mind. He cannot presume to take from Wei Ying, only to bring himself equilibrium. The principles and his own upbringing both forbid it. )
It is easy for Wei Ying to waste his affection on the only person present. One he dismissed in better times.
( And can he be faulted? In the absence of duress, Wei Ying never turned to him. )
[Fuck you, Wei Wuxian wants to scream. He's putting the blame on Wei Wuxian, and it hurts him even more.
He didn't look at Lan Zhan? He's always been looking!]
You are the one who refused to look at me! [He wants something in his hands to throw.] Every time I tried to catch your attention, you always left! Every time, even when we were young! Even when we just married, you didn't want me!
Don't you try to blame me for all of this, even if it's easy to put it all on me.
( And he has mistepped again, heinously. Driven Wei Ying to some manner of brink, himself hot in those footsteps. He means to interject, to excuse himself, to contradict -
But this isn't his moment, his time. It is a selfish thing that he does, speaking his own mind, already. And so, more distance. A few steps back, and a few more, and he seats again, watching the shield of Wei Ying's back turned to him. )
Is it blame? ( Slow, even. ) Wishing for time that we may both settle with our feelings?
( If it is not mere gratitude, it will linger when Wei Ying's fortunes improve. Why disdain the test? )
You just accused me of not liking you until it was convenient. I think that says a lot about how you feel.
[Wei Wuxian's tone is venomous enough to kill. Too bad Lan Zhan is too pig-headed to die from it, and that hurts even more. What kind of man does Lan Zhan think he is? He's the one who refused to give him the time of day so often.
And now he's withholding affection too.
He can't take more of this. He stands, grabs his socks, boots and overcoat, and stomps to the door.]
If you truly feel that way, I'm not going to stay and continue to be insulted.
But Wei Ying is a whirlwind in motion, already dressing, already prepared to run, while Lan Wangji can only gaze after the trail of his retreating form, mouth cold. Clumsy. He shakes his head, seeks word, dissects them tens of times over before concluding: )
...I cannot speak to you in this way.
( With anger, with force, with venom, without regret. If Wei Ying needs time to cool off apart, so be it. They will come to no agreement in fits of wrath.
But Lan Wangji may rise first, studiously. )
Stay. This is your home. I may visit — ( But all the elders are congregating, his family is withdrawn from him. ) The cold streams.
My home is not with a man who always pulls me in only to shove me away. So fuck you, you think you cannot speak to me like this? You're always doing it. [He stops at the doorway, fumbling with his socks as the wall of cold winter air hits him hard enough to make him shiver. He's angry and frustrated enough to keep yelling, violating so many rules in the process.]
This is the second time you've done this in three days, did you know that? And not even the second time overall!
[He turns around, eyes red not from tears but from the resentful qi churning in his body.]
You always do this! You lead me on then stop right as we're about to do something, and then you blame me for the distance you put between us! [He doesn't stomp like a child, but it's a near thing.] Why do I deserve this much contempt from you, Lan Zhan!
( Enough. Enough of this. He aches. Wei Ying aches. They cannot reach compromise, nor speak when Lan Wangji is verbally paralyzed and Wei Ying is... overwhelmed by anger the likes of which emanates from his person.
And here, now, Lan Wangji rises. Here, now, he draws the line. )
Wei Ying. What will they think of our request, if you are seen in this state?
( How will the elders be expected to believe that the Wen and the Yiling Patriarch alike are innocent and helpless, if Wei Ying trots about, radiating wrathful energy? He must be stopped. He must contain himself, and for once, it will not be Lan Wangji who makes his excuses. )
Sit. I will leave. ( He begins the preparations, slower, more methodical even in this, in layering up his defenses. Perhaps another way with Wei Ying will teach him how to dramatically flee the room. ) You may still have privacy.
[Now he uses their precarious state as a weapon. He hates this so much, being a prisoner to the sects, held captive in this house by this man who does nothing but hurt him. Why did he even think salvation would be here? No one is going to help them, Wei Wuxian will just have to do it himself.
He wants to break something so badly. Throw something at Lan Zhan.
He kicks off his boots but leaves them right next to the door, a pointed warning and a promise-- he will not hesitate to leave next time. Then he settles himself in Yuan's bedding, curling up with his back to Lan Zhan.]
( Is there a world in which they may reach understanding?
He does not know so. Does not presume to assume its descent. Only nods, to acknowledge Wei Ying's concession, and honors the remainder of his own agreement, slipping on thick, boiled leather boots, then collecting another layer of fur-trimmed mantle, spread indelicately over his shoulders.
And where will it go? In the end, it does not matter. The streams, as he indicated. The library, if not. This is his home, and he is welcome, where Wei Ying might struggle to secure accommodations.
As a parting gesture, he sends a butterfly by Wei Ying's side, to take assignment once the hour is suitable. )
[If it were up to Wei Wuxian, he would never use that butterfly. He'd just let it languish on Yuan's sheets until Lan Zhan's qi runs out.
But they're not the only people living in this house in the meantime. There's also a little boy with bright eyes and an even brighter smile, who loves them both and has had too many tragedies in his short life for Wei Wuxian to stomach creating another right in front of him.
Still, he holds out for as long as he can, collecting Yuan when the sun starts to set without disturbing the butterfly and playing with him without giving it so much as a look. But then the child asks him where his rich-gege is, and Wei Wuxian has to give in.]
A-Yuan wants you. [A short, curt message, and then he gives Chenqing to the boy to chew on as a distraction, so he'll forget how red Wei Wuxian's eyes become while speaking to the butterfly.]
( In the end, the streams and the library, a pacifying succession of activities that finds him listless when the butterfly at long last seeks him out. He's slow to rise, thoughts yet muddled, some part of him begrudging Wei Ying's own reticence, for all he volunteered his exile.
He delays, pettily, to pass by the kitchens and collect the tray with their dinners combined, along with the buckets of bathing water for Wei Ying and Yuan, in a perfect deployment of Lan strength. So saddled, he treks to his own home, renouncing the sword for fear of upsetting his balance.
He presents himself before his door, breathes in, then walks in without walking, settling down his wares before turning just in time to welcome a prancing Yuan who jumps into his arms. After, a whirlwind: stories of the day, Yuan's opinion of everything, of anything, slow murmured secrets, laughter. Lan Wangji dragged to the low table, where he safely deposits the covered dinner plates, positioning them one by one for service while Yuan claps excitedly.
No need for words between Wei Ying and he, hardly that of a shared presence. Not until it is unavoidable to avoid Yuan's suspicions. )
Please eat. The kitchens made exception to prepare fish for guests.
[Immediately, Wei Wuxian begins on the fish, expertly separating the bones before depositing the flesh in Yuan's bowl on top of his rice. Not just because he wants something to do and providing for Yuan is second nature to him, but because the child likely has never had fish before, so of course he doesn't know that fish have really annoying bones. It falls to the parent to debone the fish before serving their child.
And because Yuan is at that age, and because he's been doing nothing but play all day, he's inhaling each sliver like a starving cat, which forces Wei Wuxian to work faster to accommodate for his appetite.
Not that he minds-- he has a smile on his face that hasn't been present in hours, a quiet joy at watching his ward live the life he should have had from the start.
Then he looks up at Lan Zhan, finally, and nods. He conveys many things in that one gesture, an acknowledgement of him, thanks, and a sign that he would rather wait for Yuan to eat his full before starting for himself.]
( There, some peace between them, Yuan the easiest to pacify and his caretaker grudgingly in his footsteps. Lan Wangji nods, assuming his own position to serve the food out among bowls, rice and vegetables and the slices of the fish toward Wei Ying.
The child cannot eat a fish whole, not without bursting. Nothing must go to waste. Lan Wangji himself abstains from eating, careful to only brush his lips on the rim of his cup of tea, well filled.
They needn't speak, until the meal is done, and the child stretches out contently, his belly filled out pleasantly and slowly patted. Lan Wangji invites him over with a wave of a hand, and he goes greedily, plopping down on his side, head cradled on Lan Wangji's thigh. He strokes his hair, gently.
Sect politics. I understand. [ With how he manages to keep his tone neutral, he should be given a new title.
Oh, how he dislikes sect politics so much. Especially when lives hang in the balance. He couldn't stand it back during the Sunshot Campaign when the sects had to talk to each other and negotiate for who did what and who could stay relatively safe, and it's probably worse right now. They're in peacetime, but it's the winter. There's no war, but people are still in need. They're talking about the fate of the remnants of the Wen sect, who are considered less than dirt by society today.
He doesn't want to know what they think of the little boy cuddling up to Lan Zhan just because he happens to have an unfortunate family name.
It makes him want to make his own sect, where people are free and no one is turned away. Then he shelves that idea, because it's beyond his power. Nobody would ever respect a sect founded by him, led by him, not with his reputation so dirty. Perhaps nobody would even look kindly on them, or leave them alone. He struggles to feed less than fifty people already with charity, how will he handle double the amount of mouths?]
We will have to impose on you a little longer. [And by "we", he means himself. They have already decided that Yuan will stay, and he won't wrench the boy away from this place when it's the best for him.]
( Sharp, perhaps cutting. Whatever their grievances, let there be no questions between them: it is Wei Ying who begrudges, who wishes himself or Lan Wangji gone, who wages their war. Wei Ying who looks upon him as if he is a spoiled, wretched thing, unholy.
Still, he does not insist, attending instead to the peace and safety of the child who entrusts himself so easily to Lan Wangji's care. He is soft in all the ways in which Wei Ying and he are no longer. Sweet. A miracle, whatever his blood.
Unbidden, and only once Yuan's sweet-beaded eyes shutter, he dips down to pass his mouth over the child's forehead. )
They have not debated the Wen. First they must decide whether I remain in the sect and succession line. ( He has transgressed doubly: once in wedding without permission; again, by exposing the sect to political risk through a marriage of impulse with a diplomatic liability. )
Lives are depending on their decision and they choose to prioritize their succession? [And Lan Zhan's words imply that they haven't even come to a conclusion yet.
Which means they're likely to debate it for longer tomorrow, as if putting off the question about the Wen refugees. Perhaps this is their goal, procrastinate and ignore the situation as much as possible for the less dangerous issue that they can quibble over for a long time.
His mouth twists unhappily. He thinks he's made his decision about their future.
He shuffles forward until he's sitting on Lan Zhan's other side, so Yuan doesn't hear and wake up from his doze.]
Lan Zhan. If they choose not to house the Wens, do you want to come back with us?
[He's well aware of what he's asking-- there's a possibility, a huge one, that Lan Zhan would take his question less than kindly. But he wants to give him the option, still. He doesn't want to leave Yuan here if Gusu Lan's doors don't open to them, not with this sort of frigid reception, but he doesn't want Lan Zhan to languish in a sect that treats people in the way that it does. Punishment for his actions by threatening to kick him out? What bullshit!]
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So endearing.
He taps at his chin as if thinking about it, even if he doesn't actually need to. Lan Zhan's demands are good enough for him, because he feels his skin crawl every time he says something sappy or soft, he needs some levity.
He kisses his way along Lan Zhan's jawline until he reaches his husband's mouth, and offers himself freely, parting his lips.]
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He is enchanted by their restraint, their modesty, their willingness to abide. To court, as they might, if they had a chaperone. )
Be good.
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One would think, given how long cultivator lives can be, that they're more casual about many things, but no. Many things can happen so quickly. He's intent on savoring this as much as he can. This small moment of peace with the one person who makes him feel whole.
It's why he whines a little when Lan Zhan tells him to be good instead of kissing him more.]
Me? Be good? Lan Zhan, I'm always good! [Even if he has likely driven Lan Qiren into fits when he was last in Cloud Recesses.]
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He wants to apologise. Can't. If he begins something here, hands already quarreling and tightening in white-knuckled fists on his lap, he will not gladly end it. He knows enough about himself and his weakness to conclude this.
Perhaps he has assumed in vain that Wei Ying does as well. For a moments, his gaze slips down, finds the floor. He hesitates. )
I... am not. That is why... I cannot be trusted to set aside what we begin.
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He follows Lan Zhan's gaze down, and notes how he's balling his fists up so hard, his knuckles are becoming more prominent.
He thinks he gets it.]
Lan Zhan, are you...? Aiya, it's not a bad thing, you know. Awkward, but not bad!
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For a moment, he holds silent, pensive, incapable of expressing himself wholly, of delivering the full extent of his thoughts. Then, he positions his hands on his knees, bracing, head still bowed as if offering the honours due to an elder, or to divinity.
He is a penitent in such things, owing his husband respect. )
I want you. ( Let this much be clear. ) But a marriage is not mere desire.
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Wei Wuxian's throat suddenly feels dry. He's suddenly conscious of where he's sitting, his legs and arms still around Lan Zhan when his husband is insistent on not touching him. He drops them, and sits on his ankles, but he's still right in front of Lan Zhan, their knees just about touching.]
You want... things like mutual feelings too. [Which is not unusual when it comes to marriages that are not arranged, nor preposterous for Lan Zhan himself to want.
Wei Wuxian is just no good at dealing with feelings. He doesn't want to examine them because they will inevitably hurt, or the other person will realize that they just don't want the feelings that Wei Wuxian gives them.
Like right now. It hurts that Lan Zhan doubts him so when they're so deep into this now.]
You think I don't feel the same?
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( And that Wei Ying, so long submerged in the hatred, disbelief and contempt of others, might so easily mistake his own appreciation for admiration, for affection, for more. He shakes his head, tender. )
Wei Ying has long not received kindness.
( For a thirsting man, every droplet of water overwhelms. It cannot be helped. Wei Ying cannot be helped — nor, in his own way, trusted. It would be the simplest, the least demanding thing to submit to his instincts and presume to misinterpret Wei Ying's gentle acceptance as true interest.
Perhaps it is — while Lan Wangji is his only option. )
Bide your time.
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You think I'm doing this because I'm grateful.
Because I want to keep your favor. You think I'm using my body and your interest in me to keep it.
[The worst part of this accusation is that he has done it before. Time and time again, he had done everything to make sure that the Jiangs don't throw him back onto the streets. That he's pulling his weight, not more trouble than he's worth. But right now he's so, so sure that he's not doing the same thing to Lan Zhan, that he's doing this because he wants to.
He stands up, turns around and sits himself at the windowsill, hands tucked against his body. He hurts, in more ways than one.]
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( How did they come to this? Distance, accusations. Wei Ying withdrawing into himself, the specter of outrage, virtue and character equally offended. Lan Wangji thinks to follow him, rises up, extends a hand —
But falls short of touch, coaxed back into discipline. He cannot selfishly inflict himself on a man clearly wounded, only to ease Lan Wangji's own mind. He cannot presume to take from Wei Ying, only to bring himself equilibrium. The principles and his own upbringing both forbid it. )
It is easy for Wei Ying to waste his affection on the only person present. One he dismissed in better times.
( And can he be faulted? In the absence of duress, Wei Ying never turned to him. )
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He didn't look at Lan Zhan? He's always been looking!]
You are the one who refused to look at me! [He wants something in his hands to throw.] Every time I tried to catch your attention, you always left! Every time, even when we were young! Even when we just married, you didn't want me!
Don't you try to blame me for all of this, even if it's easy to put it all on me.
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But this isn't his moment, his time. It is a selfish thing that he does, speaking his own mind, already. And so, more distance. A few steps back, and a few more, and he seats again, watching the shield of Wei Ying's back turned to him. )
Is it blame? ( Slow, even. ) Wishing for time that we may both settle with our feelings?
( If it is not mere gratitude, it will linger when Wei Ying's fortunes improve. Why disdain the test? )
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[Wei Wuxian's tone is venomous enough to kill. Too bad Lan Zhan is too pig-headed to die from it, and that hurts even more. What kind of man does Lan Zhan think he is? He's the one who refused to give him the time of day so often.
And now he's withholding affection too.
He can't take more of this. He stands, grabs his socks, boots and overcoat, and stomps to the door.]
If you truly feel that way, I'm not going to stay and continue to be insulted.
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But Wei Ying is a whirlwind in motion, already dressing, already prepared to run, while Lan Wangji can only gaze after the trail of his retreating form, mouth cold. Clumsy. He shakes his head, seeks word, dissects them tens of times over before concluding: )
...I cannot speak to you in this way.
( With anger, with force, with venom, without regret. If Wei Ying needs time to cool off apart, so be it. They will come to no agreement in fits of wrath.
But Lan Wangji may rise first, studiously. )
Stay. This is your home. I may visit — ( But all the elders are congregating, his family is withdrawn from him. ) The cold streams.
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This is the second time you've done this in three days, did you know that? And not even the second time overall!
[He turns around, eyes red not from tears but from the resentful qi churning in his body.]
You always do this! You lead me on then stop right as we're about to do something, and then you blame me for the distance you put between us! [He doesn't stomp like a child, but it's a near thing.] Why do I deserve this much contempt from you, Lan Zhan!
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And here, now, Lan Wangji rises. Here, now, he draws the line. )
Wei Ying. What will they think of our request, if you are seen in this state?
( How will the elders be expected to believe that the Wen and the Yiling Patriarch alike are innocent and helpless, if Wei Ying trots about, radiating wrathful energy? He must be stopped. He must contain himself, and for once, it will not be Lan Wangji who makes his excuses. )
Sit. I will leave. ( He begins the preparations, slower, more methodical even in this, in layering up his defenses. Perhaps another way with Wei Ying will teach him how to dramatically flee the room. ) You may still have privacy.
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He wants to break something so badly. Throw something at Lan Zhan.
He kicks off his boots but leaves them right next to the door, a pointed warning and a promise-- he will not hesitate to leave next time. Then he settles himself in Yuan's bedding, curling up with his back to Lan Zhan.]
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He does not know so. Does not presume to assume its descent. Only nods, to acknowledge Wei Ying's concession, and honors the remainder of his own agreement, slipping on thick, boiled leather boots, then collecting another layer of fur-trimmed mantle, spread indelicately over his shoulders.
And where will it go? In the end, it does not matter. The streams, as he indicated. The library, if not. This is his home, and he is welcome, where Wei Ying might struggle to secure accommodations.
As a parting gesture, he sends a butterfly by Wei Ying's side, to take assignment once the hour is suitable. )
Send word, when you wish me returned.
( The door shutters firmly behind him. )
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But they're not the only people living in this house in the meantime. There's also a little boy with bright eyes and an even brighter smile, who loves them both and has had too many tragedies in his short life for Wei Wuxian to stomach creating another right in front of him.
Still, he holds out for as long as he can, collecting Yuan when the sun starts to set without disturbing the butterfly and playing with him without giving it so much as a look. But then the child asks him where his rich-gege is, and Wei Wuxian has to give in.]
A-Yuan wants you. [A short, curt message, and then he gives Chenqing to the boy to chew on as a distraction, so he'll forget how red Wei Wuxian's eyes become while speaking to the butterfly.]
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He delays, pettily, to pass by the kitchens and collect the tray with their dinners combined, along with the buckets of bathing water for Wei Ying and Yuan, in a perfect deployment of Lan strength. So saddled, he treks to his own home, renouncing the sword for fear of upsetting his balance.
He presents himself before his door, breathes in, then walks in without walking, settling down his wares before turning just in time to welcome a prancing Yuan who jumps into his arms. After, a whirlwind: stories of the day, Yuan's opinion of everything, of anything, slow murmured secrets, laughter. Lan Wangji dragged to the low table, where he safely deposits the covered dinner plates, positioning them one by one for service while Yuan claps excitedly.
No need for words between Wei Ying and he, hardly that of a shared presence. Not until it is unavoidable to avoid Yuan's suspicions. )
Please eat. The kitchens made exception to prepare fish for guests.
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And because Yuan is at that age, and because he's been doing nothing but play all day, he's inhaling each sliver like a starving cat, which forces Wei Wuxian to work faster to accommodate for his appetite.
Not that he minds-- he has a smile on his face that hasn't been present in hours, a quiet joy at watching his ward live the life he should have had from the start.
Then he looks up at Lan Zhan, finally, and nods. He conveys many things in that one gesture, an acknowledgement of him, thanks, and a sign that he would rather wait for Yuan to eat his full before starting for himself.]
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The child cannot eat a fish whole, not without bursting. Nothing must go to waste. Lan Wangji himself abstains from eating, careful to only brush his lips on the rim of his cup of tea, well filled.
They needn't speak, until the meal is done, and the child stretches out contently, his belly filled out pleasantly and slowly patted. Lan Wangji invites him over with a wave of a hand, and he goes greedily, plopping down on his side, head cradled on Lan Wangji's thigh. He strokes his hair, gently.
Then, speaking over the table: )
No decision today. The elders reconvene tomorrow.
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Oh, how he dislikes sect politics so much. Especially when lives hang in the balance. He couldn't stand it back during the Sunshot Campaign when the sects had to talk to each other and negotiate for who did what and who could stay relatively safe, and it's probably worse right now. They're in peacetime, but it's the winter. There's no war, but people are still in need. They're talking about the fate of the remnants of the Wen sect, who are considered less than dirt by society today.
He doesn't want to know what they think of the little boy cuddling up to Lan Zhan just because he happens to have an unfortunate family name.
It makes him want to make his own sect, where people are free and no one is turned away. Then he shelves that idea, because it's beyond his power. Nobody would ever respect a sect founded by him, led by him, not with his reputation so dirty. Perhaps nobody would even look kindly on them, or leave them alone. He struggles to feed less than fifty people already with charity, how will he handle double the amount of mouths?]
We will have to impose on you a little longer. [And by "we", he means himself. They have already decided that Yuan will stay, and he won't wrench the boy away from this place when it's the best for him.]
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( Sharp, perhaps cutting. Whatever their grievances, let there be no questions between them: it is Wei Ying who begrudges, who wishes himself or Lan Wangji gone, who wages their war. Wei Ying who looks upon him as if he is a spoiled, wretched thing, unholy.
Still, he does not insist, attending instead to the peace and safety of the child who entrusts himself so easily to Lan Wangji's care. He is soft in all the ways in which Wei Ying and he are no longer. Sweet. A miracle, whatever his blood.
Unbidden, and only once Yuan's sweet-beaded eyes shutter, he dips down to pass his mouth over the child's forehead. )
They have not debated the Wen. First they must decide whether I remain in the sect and succession line. ( He has transgressed doubly: once in wedding without permission; again, by exposing the sect to political risk through a marriage of impulse with a diplomatic liability. )
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Lives are depending on their decision and they choose to prioritize their succession? [And Lan Zhan's words imply that they haven't even come to a conclusion yet.
Which means they're likely to debate it for longer tomorrow, as if putting off the question about the Wen refugees. Perhaps this is their goal, procrastinate and ignore the situation as much as possible for the less dangerous issue that they can quibble over for a long time.
His mouth twists unhappily. He thinks he's made his decision about their future.
He shuffles forward until he's sitting on Lan Zhan's other side, so Yuan doesn't hear and wake up from his doze.]
Lan Zhan. If they choose not to house the Wens, do you want to come back with us?
[He's well aware of what he's asking-- there's a possibility, a huge one, that Lan Zhan would take his question less than kindly. But he wants to give him the option, still. He doesn't want to leave Yuan here if Gusu Lan's doors don't open to them, not with this sort of frigid reception, but he doesn't want Lan Zhan to languish in a sect that treats people in the way that it does. Punishment for his actions by threatening to kick him out? What bullshit!]
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