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Chapter Text

Letting himself get cursed may not have been the smartest thing Wei Wuxian has ever done, but he'd argue that it’s completely in character. So he should earn some points for consistency, at the very least. Besides, when the spirit had been explaining it, the curse hadn't sounded too bad. Maybe a little bothersome if he underestimated how many people felt strongly about him, but surely, surely , it wouldn't be enough to hamper him in the long run.

Let it be known that Wei Wuxian is an idiot.

Because, as soon as he trots out of the temple, spinning Chenqing mindlessly around his fingers, he knows that he’s made a mistake. His heart drops leaden into his gut, splashing acid up his throat. The clearing looks empty, except for the occasional leaf rolling over the ground. His heart drops into his gut. He can't see anyone .

~

Somehow, he'd agreed to accompany the group of disciples he'd lovingly taken to calling the Juniors, on a night hunt, laughing as Jin Ling's cheeks had flushed and Lan Sizhui had gifted him with a soft smile. How they had found Wei Wuxian all the way out here, far away from both Lanling Jin and Gusu Lan, he has no idea.

Perhaps they just got lucky.

The town he’s been residing in for the past couple of weeks is on the border of two minor sect’s territories, a place where all the dregs of cultivation society washed up. The people were suspicious when Wei Wuxian first rolled into town, Lil’ Apple braying obnoxiously the entire way. They’d eyed his dark, dusty robes and probably thought something along the lines of ‘oh, another one.’ and written him off immediately as someone they could find in the inn, gulping down wine like air.

The almost horrified looks on the locals' faces when he’d instead frolicked through the village is something that Wei Wuxian will cackle at for years to come.Their faces had been especially entertaining when he’d played a lively diddy on Chenqing, skipping happily through the main square, with children waddling in his footsteps.  After that, it had only taken a week for the townspeople, people with calloused hands and faces worn by dust and hardship, to warm up to him, eagerly spilling stories over a cheap meal or trading him gossip for help in the market. 

Pale, ashen rocks line the roads in and out of town, tumbling over each other in their rush to get somewhere else. At the border of the town, a shadowed, hungry forest crouches, leaving dark, muddy footprints in the earth. Gnarled dark, nettle-laden branches reach out of the forest to grasp at innocent traveler’s clothes. The townspeople skirt around its edges, scrunching their noses and baring their teeth whenever it’s mentioned. 

So of course Wei Wuxian had needled them about it while launching into stories of his own with a bright smile.

Then the juniors had arrived in a cloud of dust from the road, expressions eager as they spotted him and called him over. 

They'd spent a week gathering information and, on Wei Wuxian's part, needling the Juniors to have fun and do something crazy. Surprisingly, Ouyang Zizhen had been particularly adept at charming the belligerent grandmothers and particularly in-adept at charming the younger ladies. Unsurprisingly, Lan Jingyi had been the most supportive of pulling some of Wei Wuxian's harmless pranks. Even going so far as to actually listen when Wei Wuxian had encouraged them to let loose and live a little. 

All in all, it was a good week.

Good enough that Wei Wuxian was able to forget the beating wings of a tiny bird named longing, for a time long past.

Good enough that he barely mentioned Lan Zhan, despite being surrounded by the baby Lans.

Good enough that he almost forgot he wasn't supposed to ask if they could all go back to Gusu together.

They thought they had been prepared. The case was this: for the past twenty or so years, people mysteriously went missing up near an old temple that had fallen into disrepair. The people of the city had tried to get cultivators to take care of it earlier, but, as so often happens when a request isn’t as financially beneficial to a sect, the request had been put off. And put off some more. Until it had been 20 years of people mysteriously disappearing.

Now that cultivators were finally getting around to it, there was much more evidence to go over, to try and sort into some comprehensible image of what they would be facing. But, even then, the stories had differed too much to really make Wei Wuxian feel secure as they trekked into the forest to challenge the root of the problem. He'd had a roiling, restless feeling in his gut the entire way up.

His instincts turned out to be correct, as the spirit was much, much stronger than they had assumed it would be. It almost tookJin Ling's head off before Wei Wuxian pushed him back out past the heavy, termite-infested, wooden door. The spirit  slammed it behind him, trapping Wei Wuxian inside and the Juniors out.

And then he'd asked, practically begged, to get cursed. Had agreed. Had thought it would be the best option and that it wouldn't really affect anything because, surely, he'd still be able to see and feel most of the Juniors? They wouldn't have asked him on this hunt if they truly hated him, would they?

He glances around the clearing once more, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. It’s suspiciously quiet, if the Juniors are present, the only sounds being a whisper of wind scavenging through the branches of trees and a single, tinkling stream, running headfirst into the dark maw of the forest. Tufts of grass poke up unevenly through the rich, dark soil, the path to the door of the temple burdened by swaying bushels of petal-ended weeds.

"Everyone alright?" He shouts to the empty air, hoping against hope that maybe they just went back to town without him.

A chorus of excited  "Senior Wei!"s and "We're fine" echo back to him and oh- so they didn't just leave. Wei Wuxian can't decide whether he wishes they had. And gods, he’s going to have to- to have someone else work on situational awareness with them, if they only just noticed him. 

Because them staying and him not being able to see them, well, that can only mean that they meet the curse's criteria. He'll admit, he's a little surprised that all of them hate him or- wait, the spirit did say "and the like" didn't she? He wracks his mind for all of the feelings that could possibly fit under that umbrella.

Hate. Disgust. Fear. Resentment. Contempt. The list goes on.

So maybe they don't hate him.

Maybe they're just afraid of him.

That's fair enough, he supposes, considering all the stories about the Yiling Patriarch. Lan Sizhui is a twist Wei Wuxian didn't see coming, but if he really thinks about it then it makes sense. It's possible that he has more reasons to hate Wei Wuxian than possibly all of the other youths here, exempting maybe Jin Ling. And it's likely, when Wei Wuxian steps back and thinks about it, that the reason Lan Sizhui has been so kind to him is because of Lan Zhan and because he really is just that good .

Wei Wuxian has been naive, hasn’t he? It’s a startling realization, but not an unfamiliar one.

Perhaps, the Juniors looked into his eyes one day, and finally saw the hurting, snarling beast curled up in a corner of his soul, just waiting to lash out at anyone who gets too close. The one the rest of the cultivation world warned them about. Maybe they’ve pieced together enough of the stories they were told to know that, even before Wei Wuxian came back, there were pieces of him missing that could never be filled back in, no matter how much melted wax was poured over the holes.

Or they’ve just listened to the stories. Simple as that. 

Heavens know there are more than enough of them that the Juniors should be running screaming for the hills instead of inviting him on casual forays into the forest.

"Alright then!" He claps his hands together, trying to dull the sensation of a thousand hornets buzzing over his chest. "If everyone's alright, then let's get going!"

"Did it go well, Senior Wei?" Lan Sizhui asks and, if Wei Wuxian were to let his eyes close, he can almost see the teen's gentle smile in his mind's eye.

Wei Wuxian puffs his chest out, grinning brightly as he flicks his ponytail over his shoulder. "Of course, who do you think I am?"

Lan Jingyi snorts from somewhere behind him. “Do you really want us to answer that?”

As soon as they start moving towards the forest- Wei Wuxian's forced to just assume everyone's there, and none of the Juniors are lying about being hurt- Jin Ling's high-pitched voice rises from the space next to him. He suppresses an instinctive flinch. Barely. Turning his head to where Jin Ling's footsteps stomp, loud in the quiet of the trees and the rest of the Juniors buzzing, hushed conversations.

"You lunatic! Why the hell did you do that?" his nephew- or, no, he probably doesn't have the right to call him that- snaps, voice hot with vitriol.

“Jin Ling!” 

"Aha, Jin Ling, are you angry I was the one who took down the spirit? Did you want the glory? Have someone you want to impress, maybe?" He pokes, wishing he could see the look on Jin Ling’s face- so much like Jiang Cheng's when they were younger.

There's a spluttering somewhere to his left, as Jin Ling squawks indignantly, "Why- You- I hate you!"

Ah. Well, isn't this perfect. Who would've thought he'd have an opportunity to resolve the curse so soon? Resignation courses through him, an old, familiar friend, reunited once more to walk a lonely, dusty road together. 

"How honest you are, Young Mistress Jin. Very well, this humble servant will respect your wishes," He promises, staring expectantly at where Jin Ling's stomps are still audible.

The footsteps falter, but Jin Ling doesn't suddenly appear, popping out of the air like he's a spirit himself. There's not even so much as a flash of gold in the corner of his eyes, no trailing ponytail ends skirting the edges of his vision. There's just nothing.

Well. That's...annoying.

Does he need to be more straightforward?

A frown pulls at Wei Wuxian's lips for a second before he remembers that just because he can't see the Juniors, doesn't mean that they can't see him. Does he need to say it again? Or has he not accepted it as much as he thought he has? He reaches up a finger and rubs at his nose, forcing a mask of easy pleasantry over his features as he tries to think. 

Ah, whatever, he can figure this out once everyone's back at the inn and he doesn't have to carefully watch his expressions.

The stomping resumes, Jin Ling's voice pitching with something Wei Wuxian thinks he can reliably pinpoint as the exact same type of anger Jiang Cheng often weaponizes, "What? What the hell are you talking about, huh? Are you joking around again?"

Wei Wuxian doesn’t really know how to reply to that, so he settles on a shrug and a carefree laugh. He wonders if any of them can hear the strain in it. 

Jin Ling falls silent.

They continue the trek back to town without any more outbursts which, Wei Wuxian muses, is rather strange in itself. Usually, Lan Jingyi would be chattering away about how much he's looking forward to getting back to town or, at the very least, needling Jin Ling about something or another.

His footsteps are quiet as he walks, barely disturbing the fallen leaves and nettles that line the faded path. Roots surge up under his feet, reaching greedy fingers for his ankles as they try to pull him back into the darkened jaws of the tree line. The path curves up ahead, meticulously picking its way around a single, large bone-white boulder, sickly neon moss clinging desperately to its surface.

 The birds don’t sing. There’s barely a rustle from the verdant life that he’s supposed to be surrounded with. 

Unfortunately, the silence gives Wei Wuxian way too much time to think, as they pick their way through the forest delicately. Enough time, that he keeps having to remind himself that he's not, in fact, walking by himself. That he's surrounded by teenage disciples who just finished a night hunt successfully with no injuries. Enough time that the manufactured numbness he's been leaning against, probably caused by the shock of everyone practically disappearing, has started to fracture, hurt sticking it's gnarled, thorny branches through the cracks.

Look. The thing is, Wei Wuxian collects people like others collect art. 

He tries to build them into families, using his body as the foundations. Tries to make all the jagged edges of the people around him fit, using his bones to file down the places that were too sharp. He did it with the Jiangs, but the foundation crumbled underneath them. He did it with the Wens, but the pillars of home, built of old bones and graveyard dirt, collapsed before they ever had a chance to try to build a roof.

Maybe that's why he'd looked at a kid without parents and thought yes, this one will be mine. Maybe that was why he'd looked at Wen Ning and thought this one, I'll look after this one. Maybe that was why he’d looked at Jiang Cheng, crying over his lost companions, and thought, this one, I’ll protect this one, even from himself. Maybe that’s why he saw Lan Zhan, a peerless jade sculpture, cold underneath the pads of his fingers, and thought, yes, this one, this one. 

Maybe that was why he and Wen Qing had gotten along so well. 

They both were willing to tear out their own hearts, if it meant protecting the people they’d chosen, whether those people asked them to or not. 

But Wen Qing's family wanted her. They wanted her to sit down with them, to eat and to drink their fruit wine.That’s where the two of them differed. 

The Wens needed Wei Wuxian, they didn't necessarily want him. After all, wasn't he the reason they needed him in the first place? And the Jiangs? Well, wanted and tolerated are very different things. At the very least, he knows Shijie wanted him to stay.

The moral of the story is Wei Wuxian tries to build families, but it only ever ends in tragedy. 

And he forgot that. He had thought, foolishly, that this time around he'd be able to have a family that stayed, that wanted him as much as he wanted them. But, as he watches the people on the street carefully, eyes tracking when people nod to empty spaces or duck to the side, he thinks that maybe that was a little naive of him.

Wei Wuxian's biggest problem, has always been expecting others to carve out pieces of themselves to fit him in.

He keeps his eyes open, barely blinking as the humid, peach-scented air pushes against his palms, looping between his fingers. They finished their hunt relatively early in the evening, with the sun just beginning to set behind the piqued rooftops, golden light reflecting off of glimmering shingles.

Luckily for Wei Wuxian, there are plenty of people wandering the streets: children pulling harried parents back towards home, merchants packing up their wares, teens laughing as they fall into the golden light and wait for it to give them wings. The light crawls, sluggish as freshly gathered honey, over the rooftops and down into the streets, sticky where it drips over Wei Wuxian and the people he’s trying desperately to see. 

The town hums, splintering wood and a raising cacophony of voices weaving together in a bad facsimile of a pretty tune. One of the aunties, the one who always giggles when he winks at her, bustles past, scolding a posse of waddling children as they trail after her, barely sparing a glance his way. 

Luckily , there are enough people that Wei Wuxian never loses sight of the empty spaces where the juniors are presumably trekking along.

It's a little strange, to see the rest of the world bustling on, interacting with the juniors with gentle smiles and warm nods, when Wei Wuxian can't see them. He feels a bit, as though he's a character in a play, far away from the audience, from the other players, and unable to cross the wings to reach them.

With a touch of distant amusement, he wonders what his stage directions should be.

Hold up a hand. Look at your hand. Reach for an empty space. Grin. Put down your hand, subtly. Forget that you're supposed to be able to see them. Curl your fingers at your side. Grin. Lag behind the empty spaces. Grin. Listen for their voices, over the bustling streets. Reach for Chenqing.

Ah. Wei Wuxian's so tired already.

It's not like he's particularly a stranger to being alone. When he had first come back, before Lan Zhan had caught his wrist and dragged him back to Gusu, he had figured he would live this life as he ended his last one. Isolated. Alone. Distant. He dreaded and craved that distance in equal measures. 

But then he had been lulled into a false sense of security by what he had thought was easy camaraderie, by the warm feeling in his chest, by the gentle way Lan Zhan would carry him, eyes soft and hands unbearably gentle.

But if the Juniors hate him, what right does he have to ask to stay?

It's fine, he'll carry on as he always has. It's not like he actually managed to ask them if he could go back to Gusu with them. So Wei Wuxian has no ties; he'll slip away in the night and be much more careful to avoid them in the future. He'll grab Lil’ Apple from the stables and disappear without so much as a trill from his flute, fading into the shadows until the juniors forget to hate him and he forgets he's not supposed to come back.

He will carry on as he always has.

He wonders if he should talk to the air, just in case one of the juniors has been walking silently at his side this entire time, or has decided to come up and look at him expectantly until they’re allowed to ask their question. He stifles a humorless snort. If one of the juniors was right next to him, he doubts they'd be silent. So, he's probably in the clear.

Scanning the streets in front of the inn's entrance, Wei Wuxian waits until people are no longer nodding to empty air, until the crowd is no longer parting around spirits invisible to his eyes, then turns to go inside. The air in the inn is much more pleasant than that outside, letting the heat slip from Wei Wuxian's hands and replacing it with a pleasant chill, as though he’s holding hands with a ghost. The innkeeper directs a broad grin at him as he walks back in, but, other than that, doesn't offer any further acknowledgement.

Inside is strangely devoid of people, which doesn't exactly bode well for Wei Wuxian's cover. How is he supposed to tell where the Juniors are if everywhere is empty space? Maybe he should try and get them into an argument? And then he can just follow the sound of their voices for however long it takes him to escape without arousing suspicion. 

Yeah.

 Yeah, that seems like a good plan.

There's a rustle near the door and a voice sounds. A voice that makes the fragile resignation Wei Wuxian has been steadily cultivating ever since he emerged from the temple and thought the clearing empty, shatter , fragmented shards raining into his gut.

"Wei Ying?" it asks, and Wei Wuxian would say it's concerned, but he can't see its owner, can't see the golden eyes flashing, so he knows that's not true.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

He should have known something like this would happen. When has he ever been lucky? The universe sure loves to stomp on his hands when he's already down, huh? Wei Wuxian would like a refund, please.

Or at least some compensation. 

Anything, really. 

"Lan Zhan!" he calls out, forcing his mouth to grin so widely it scrunches his eyes closed.

It's not like it's hard. Lan Zhan always makes him feel like his heart cavities are drowning with baby dragonflies. He wonders, a little hysterically, that should he get close enough, if he would still be able to smell the earthy sandalwood scent that seems to cling to Lan Zhan no matter where they are. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, that's a hypothesis even he isn't foolish enough to test.

The world really loves to screw him over apparently, because a second later Jin Ling's voice is yelling out a surprised, "Jiujiu!"

Oh fuck. Wei Wuxian's screwed.

Damage control.

"Aha, Jiang Cheng! I didn't see you there!"He forces down an ill-timed laugh, grinning innocently."You'll have to excuse this one, he's very tired from the hunt."

"Idiot!" Ah. Jiang Cheng truly never changes. "Should you even be going on hunts if something as simple as this tires you out?"

"So mean! Lan Zhan! Jiang Cheng's bullying me!" Jutting his lower lip out, he makes his eyes well with crocodile tears.

Unfortunately, the effect is probably ruined by the fact that he can't quite figure out where to look.

"Mn." if Wei Wuxian's not mistaken, Lan Zhan’s answering hum sounds faintly amused.

Well, actually , it's likely that he is mistaken, taking recent events into account. 

He’s been so proud of being the only one, other than Lan Xichen, who was able to decode Lan Zhan's moods from his microexpressions, but maybe he’s been misinterpreting them this entire time.

It's been a long time since Wei Wuxian has read hatred between the nonexistent lines of the other's face. Lan Zhan is written in a language Wei Wuxian has presumed to know, fooled by his own hubris. As though Lan Zhan is composed of the same script that’s written across tombstones, and Wei Wuxian can coax him out just as easily as he does the dead.

No, it's much more likely that Wei Wuxian made a mistake in translation, somewhere close to the start, seeing the characters for affection where there should have been those of disdain.

"Ei? Will no one help this poor senior?" He places a hand against his forehead, swaying delicately in place. "Woe is me, woe is me."

Ouyang Zizhen, bless his soul, actually sounds troubled as he responds, "Senior Wei."

Wei Wuxian ignores him, dramatically stumbling backwards.

"Betrayed by even my juniors"–He shouldn't call them that anymore. It stings. It stings, but it's–"fine, fine, this one will go to bed."

Silence reigns for a beat. Long enough for Wei Wuxian to fear that they’ve figured it out. Or noticed that something was amiss. Thinks they saw the wounds bleeding over his heart. That they'll pull at his arms and raise his head away from licking warily at the blood, cradling his cheeks with weary touches. 

Then Lan Zhan's humming, "Good night, Wei Ying."

Ah. Looks like Wei Wuxian was worried for nothing.

"Sleep well, Senior Wei!" Lan Jingyi calls after him, a laugh buried in his voice. Days spent in freshly cut grass and robes that refuse to stain written into the sound as surely as they're written into the boy himself.

How could Wei Wuxian have ever hoped to fit in, when blood and dirt cling to the hems of his robes so stubbornly they change the color of the fabric?

He waves over his shoulder lazily as he trots up the staircase, quickly ducking into his room as the smile melts from his face. Heaving a sigh, he runs a hand through his messy bangs, fingers finding the ribbon tied around his sloppy ponytail and roughly retying it.

The problem is,  now Wei Wuxian's alone with his thoughts and the aching hole in his chest. Which, as history shows, has never been a good combination.

He spares a glance around the room. Nothing's changed since yesterday, even though it feels like everything has. But now the bed, messy, cloud colored blankets strewn across it’s frame haphazardly,  looks too soft for him, no matter how he tilts his head. The low, dark wooden table set in the center of the floor is covered in smudged talisman papers, an ink well balanced precariously at the edge and Wei Wuxian thinks that there’s not enough space for him there. Not in the middle of the room, with his back to the door and his eyes blind to everyone he would want to see.

If the bed is too soft, and the table too open, then that really only leaves one option, doesn't it?

So he sits on the chilled wooden planks, pushing his back into the corner where the walls meet. Pushes backwards until he can feel the rough wood chafe against his back. Pushes backwards until the room around him concentrates down to a single supernovic point. He drops his hands to the ground, the phantom feeling of cool stone pressing sharply into the palms of his hands, as the temple flashes in his mind.

~

It hadn’t seemed like much from the outside, all rotted wooden pillars and a sagging roof, painted in peeling, aggrieved green; the same green Wei Wuxian had seen one of the uncles in town turn after he had had too much to drink. If there had ever been any motifs decorating the plain surfaces, the winds of time had long since worn them away. With a harsh screech, the door had opened beneath their group’s questioning palms, splinters sticking stubbornly out of the surface, just waiting to dig their claws into the unsuspecting hands of passersby. 

The inside of the temple wasn’t much better. What Wei Wuxian assumes used to be supporting beams sagged under the burden of a despondent roof, gray light squeezing in through the holes. If there used to be an altar, it was gone by then, a fading stain of lighter stone the only indication it had ever been there in the first place. 

Then there was the spirit herself, who staggered out from behind a faded, blood-red column with a stuttering shriek. 

The spirit they were battling so hard to suppress was just a teenager. A teenger whose hands shook as she balled them into fists and screamed at them. He was forced to change his game plan. 

They'd made a mistake; breaking into the temple with pitchforks and snarls, ready to face a monster. They expected a snarling, feral beast, fangs bared, glistening with crimson blood. What they got was a scared teenager, robes covered in clumsily stitched birds with graceful necks torn in two. 

The spirit ignored all of his attempts to calm her down, shrieking over them in time with the wind. In fact, she seemed to have decided that he was the one to target, pushing most of the juniors outside. And then he'd had to save Jin Ling from a well-aimed, ill-timed swipe, and had finished the job for her. The doors had closed with a resounding thud, the shouts of the Juniors fading into distant rumbles.

 "Hey, hey, calm down." He put his hands out placatingly, palms down as he dodged a swipe of her sharpened nails, trying his best to diffuse the situation.

"Why would I do that? You're just going to kill me!" she shrieked, a shrill shattering of glass on the ground, ready to tear Wei Wuxian's mind apart from the inside.

Suppressing a wince, he tilted his head, grinning as he helpfully pointed out, "Well, actually, you're already dead."

She paused for a second, eyes going wide before narrowing once more. Ah. Bad move, then. 

"You think I don't know that!" She snarled, and yeah, okay, maybe that wasn't the most tactful thing he could’ve said.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He shook his head. "I just meant –well, I don't want to hurt your soul, okay? So how about we just talk?"

Scoffing, she looked him over critically. "Talk? You want to talk? You, little cultivator?"

"Little cultivator?" Wei Wuxian blinked. Seriously? 'Little cultivator'?   She looked twelve, where did she get the right? "Should you really be calling me ‘little cultivator’?"

"I've been stuck here longer than you've been alive, I think I have the right." She sneered, cheeks pushed outwards like a rooster puffing his feathers.

Ah, okay then. 

"Fair enough." He lifted a shoulder, biting back a laugh at the image. That probably wouldn’t have gone over well with a prepubescent ghost.  Teenager’s and their moodswings. Go figure.

Something in his expression must’ve managed to win her over though because, a moment later, she skipped away from him. Crouching in the shadows of the temple, she watched him warily. 

"What- What would you want to talk about?" She slowed, and Wei Wuxian managed to get a good look at her face, without it being contorted by all the screaming.

Tears rolled, fat and pearly, down cheeks still chubby with baby fat, even as she gazed at him contemplatively. Plain, cream robes swept along the sawdust covered floor, delicate blue embroidery tracing up the collar and edges. If you ignored the blood staining one side of the robes, and the unnaturally pale pallor of her skin, one could almost mistake her for a random girl on the street.

Except, you know, she was a little see-through. 

Ah, this was no predator. She was just a kid. How did she even die? Who would hurt a kid?

He blinked at her, tilting his head and summoning up a smile as bright as he could manage, burying the sun he had once shot down within its confines, "I want to help."

"Help?" she echoed, eyebrows scrunched together.

"Yeah." He nodded, and, when it didn't look like she was going to say anything else in response, asked, "D'you know what would help you rest?"

Wei Wuxian had learned, through much trial and error, that using terms such as 'rest' and 'sleep' tended to go over much better with younger spirits. Going to take a nap was much less scary than passing on, after all. She stayed silent for a moment, glancing down at the floor and then letting her eyes skirt around the walls, but never landing on him.

When it didn't look like she was going to start trying to separate his head from his body again, Wei Wuxian leaned against the wall, twirling Chneqing lazily between his fingers. 

Finally, she raised a challenging eyebrow at him and said, "A curse."

Oh, well, curses were easy enough. Though it was a little strange for the spirit itself to be cursed. Maybe Wei Wuxian would be able to get away with doing a simple cleansing ritual and that would be that. 

Curse? Solved. 

Case? Closed. 

Celebratory drinks? Earned.

Yeah, probably not.

"Okay! Got any details you could tell me?" he prompted, keeping his voice light despite his thoughts racing faster than he was able to keep up with.

She shifted, glancing away as she said, "I could, yes, but it's not what you think it is."

"Then explain it to me." He tilted his head back, trying to soften his expression into something more like what he would wear while trying to encourage Ouyang Zizhen to finish his story instead of tapering off into apologetic murmurs.

It seemed to work because, a moment later, the words were tumbling from her mouth in one big rush of air, "I have to pass it down, I think. It happened when I was still alive."

Well, that was certainly unique . The solution was pretty obvious though, what with Wei Wuxian having been standing right in front of her.

"Alright, well, you could give it to me?" he offered, lifting a shoulder carelessly.

"Little cultivator," her eyes narrowed, voice rumbling from her throat like a mountain crashing down, "don't you want to know what you're agreeing to?"

Okay, so maybe the offer was a little foolhardy. But, hey! It would solve the problem, right? That’s what cultivators are supposed to do. 

Besides, it probably wouldn’t kill him. At least not right away. Then he could just cleanse it. Or have the Juniors help him cleanse it. Easy.

"Wait– ah, will it kill me? Or cause immense pain?" he asked, keeping his expression and tones as soft and open as he could, focusing on projecting that ' I'm listening and I care' air that seemed to go over so well with the Juniors.

Which apparently worked if her further relaxation was anything to go by. That was until she seemed to actually comprehend what he had just said, a flabbergasted gasp leaving her bloody lips. 

"No, of course not!" Her mouth dropped open in a horrified oh, eyes wide and earnest. "Who do you take me for?"

"Right, then no, I probably won't mind." A decision he's regretting now.

She peered at him, wide eyes curious as she commented, "You're rather kind for a cultivator."

It hit him again, that this was just a teenager he was talking to. No matter how much she postured, she’d died in her youth and had probably been trapped up in this dingy temple for the last twenty odd years. She was still just a kid. Will only ever be just a kid. A well of bittersweet regret rose in him at the thought.

He wished that she’d been allowed to grow up. Wished that the cultivators had come by sooner, ones that would care enough about her to ask her questions, and that she had been able to rest soon after she died. He wished that his heart didn't feel like it was cracking, just a little, because he saw too much of himself in her eyes.

But he couldn't say all of that, so he settled for shrugging his shoulders. 

Then, he said, "Maybe you've just met bad ones."

"Yes."– She blinked slowly, eyes narrowing as she peered at him. Wei Wuxian's not sure what she saw, but whatever it was made her nod slowly, offering a hesitant smile to him, a thing as small as a flighty bird–"Maybe I have."

Yet, she didn't offer any more information.

 Nothing more about the curse, or how to actually help her, which led Wei Wuxian to straighten, asking expectantly, "So! What're the conditions for the curse?"

With a jolt, she seemed to come back to the conversation, blinking rapidly as she started to explain, "You won't be able to feel or see people who feel strongly about you."

"Feel strongly?" He wrinkled his nose, scrunching his brows together. "Like what?"

"Oh, hate, you know, the like." She flapped her hands in the air, sleeves flopping with the movement, as though it should have been obvious.

"Ahaha, I won't be able to see anyone!" And if that stung, no one but Wei Wuxian had to know.

"Oh. Oh no, they have to know you personally." Oh, great, so just the majority of the cultivation world then.

He swallowed, mouth dry, "Ah. I see."

Actually, if Wei Wuxian thought about it, that wouldn't be so bad. At least he'd never have to see Sect Leader Yao's ugly mug again. And he can only imagine how much it would piss Lan Qiren off if he couldn't properly see the disapproval marring his face while he lectured him.

"Do you still want to do it?" She questioned, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Yeah." He nodded to himself, "Yeah, this is the best option."

She blinked at him, expression strangely blank despite the fat tears still making tracks over her cheeks, and said, "There is a way to resolve it, you know."

Wei Wuxian blinked at her, tilting his head as he asked, "Can't I just use spiritual energy on it?"

"No. No, I'm afraid that doesn't work." She shook her head, fingers twisting over each other as she glanced back towards him, resignation forefront in her dark eyes..

Well, that wouldn't do.

"Aiya, kid, just what did you do to get cursed so seriously?" He scrubbed a hand over his face, rolling his eyes skywards.

Gods, he did not get paid enough for this.

Wei Wuxian had been planning on letting her curse him and then cleansing the curse with his own energy, or maybe asking Lan Sizhui to help out, but it looked like that was no longer an option. Luckily, the curse itself didn't seem too serious.

She shrugged slender shoulders, gaze tracing over the dilapidated walls of the temple, "To resolve it, you have to accept the feelings."

"That's it?" He asked, disbelief heavy.

Really? He just had to accept it? If that was it, then this curse wouldn’t be too hard to break. In fact, it might be laughably easy. 

She nodded, fiddling with the dragging sleeves of her robes, "Yes."

"Alright!" He clapped his hands together, pushing his shoulders back and shooting her a wide smile. "let's get to work then, shall we?"

"I- I wish this could have been resolved differently, Mr. Cultivator."

He'd like to say that his decision to take on the curse, even after he found out about the strange resistance to being resolved with spiritual energy, had nothing to do with the girl herself. That he would have done this for any spirit. But, as he looked at her trembling lower lip, at the tears still rolling down her cheeks like the very first drops in an April rain storm, Wei Wuxian couldn’t even be bothered to pretend.

No one had helped her in life. Wei Wuxian will do his best to help her in death. It was only fitting. After all, death was his specialty, wasn’t it?

Ah. Wei Wuxian really had become a pushover, huh?

"Why? This works just fine! Now-" He clapped his hands again, Chenqing tucked under his arm "-go ahead! Let's get you to rest, hm?"

She approached cautiously. Wei Wuxian thought she would need to draw an array of some sort, but that didn't seem to be the case, which brought up more questions about the origin of the curse. Her hands came up, crooked, bruised fingers pressing gently against his cheeks, as faint as an icy wind blowing down from the mountains. Quick as a whip, she pressed her forehead against his, lips moving around words that Wei Wuxian couldn’t decipher as anything more than a howl of the wind, a creak of wood.

Then, just as quickly as she approached, she darted back.

Already, her form had begun to flicker, like a candle's fire teetering on the edge of going out. Still, she turned to walk away, as though death was something you had to fight to reach. Wei Wuxian supposed that for her, it had been.

Her steps paused, foot hovering over the ground then carefully, as if tasting the weight of the words, she said, "Mr. Cultivator. Thank you."

He'd shrugged it off with a laugh, waving his hand, "Yeah, kid, it's fine. Let's get you some sleep."

She'd nodded, a soft, relieved smile on her face. Then she was gone, and Wei Wuxian stood cursed, alone , in a collapsing, forgotten temple.

~

Shaking his head, he sucks a breath in between his teeth. Mentally, he berates himself. How foolish can you get, huh? Just letting some random spirit curse you and thinking that would be the end of it. Maybe Jiang Cheng was right, you really are an idiot.

Oh-Jiang Cheng.

He hadn't been able to see him either, had he?

He knew Jiang Cheng hated him but he had thought that maybe, maybe, after the events at the temple the other would- would what? Throw himself into Wei Wuxian’s arms and say he still wanted to be his brother? He chokes back a hysterical snort. Don’t be ridiculous Wei Wuxian, take what you can get.

How naive, Wei Wuxian. You've always been so eager to get your stained fingers on things you have no claim over, haven't you?

He had thought, at the very least, that Jiang Cheng would forgive him enough that they could be casual, if not friendly acquaintances. For gods sakes, it’s been a year! But his brother has always felt things too strongly. It was foolish of Wei Wuxian to think he was special enough to be an exception.

Distantly, he supposes that hate is better than indifference. At least this way, Jiang Cheng still cares what happens to him.

And Lan Zhan- well, Wei Wuxian doesn't really want to think about it.

Dragging in a stuttering breath, letting the heat of it brush over his bleeding heart, he shakes his head ruefully. A strained, flighty thing of a laugh bubbles from his lips. What an idiot he’s become. How could he have forgotten? Flowers don't bloom along his cheeks, graceful in the morning light. No, they shrivel up, starved for gentle caresses and water and light and all the things Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to give them. 

How could he have forgotten?

He taps his fingers against the raised skin around his neck, a charming reminder from Jin Guangyao that, even if the cultivation world accepts him now, they’re likely to change their whims on a dime. His fingers drag slowly over the pink skin, a blemish barely noticeable unless you're looking for it, but one he can’t look away from, can’t force his hands from-

 Breathe, Wei Wuxian. 

Fingers trace around the back of his neck, catching against two raised sooty patches of skin ducked behind his ears. Ah. He was wondering where the curse mark was.

His neck throbs in the static of his mind. 

This is fine. He can figure this out. He's good at figuring things out, that's what really got him killed in his first life, isn't it? He figured out too much, got too cocky, and the world said you have to stop, this knowledge isn't for you. But Wei Wuxian had been young, and he had already died, so what did he have to fear? Wei Wuxian had been so filled up with the light of discovery, he had never thought to check behind himself for the shadows it would cast.

But that's the past. This time around, Wei Wuxian watches the shadows much more intensely than the light. Listens to them whisper, watches them shift and coil around his ankles and carefully skips around them. Invents new ways to avoid them, but not enough that he'll fall into them. This time, he’s learned his lesson.

Or he thought he had. But here he is. Falling. Like he's a peach blossom come too early in the spring thaw, recklessly dancing in the wind as it tumbles down, down, down.

This is fine. He just needs to step back, needs to create distance between himself and the problem. 

Distance is good. 

Distance is safe. 

Wei Wuxian has always had trouble with distance, but he thinks that this time, he might just be able to respect it. He leans his head back, letting it bump against the worn wooden walls and traces his eyes over the knots above his head. A cold breath pushes from his lips, slow and as quiet as he can make it, a barely there disturbance in the room.

Fact: Wei Wuxian cannot see his companions

Fact: Wei Wuxian cannot feel his companions

Fact:  He's already accepted Jin Ling's feelings and it didn't do anything. 

Maybe the curse has a lag time? Maybe he needs to accept everyone's at the same time? Does he have to do it vocally each time, or can he just look at them and acknowledge, in his heart, that they would rather see him frozen in jade than walking besides them?

Fact: This is a sensory curse. 

Wei Wuxian doesn't have much experience with those, but maybe the constant input, the constant blocking of so many people, is causing the energy to get confused about who it needs to lift for. Maybe it needs space.

Conclusion: Wei Wuxian should leave.

If only it were that simple.

As much as Wei Wuxian wants to be the type of person who doesn't have to worry about feelings and connections, the type of person who can know a fact and trust it, he isn't. When it comes down to it, Wei Wuxian has always been the type of person who cares too deeply, despite the facts.

 What a ridiculous failing for an inventor to have.

Fact: Wei Wuxian has always fumbled the idea of being able to carry love. 

This time is no different. It's something that's much too big and unwieldy for him to lift. Maybe it's a good thing that he doesn't have to try and carry the love of others, if he makes so many mistakes with his own.

Fact: Wei Wuxian has always been selfish. 

He was selfish before his death and he'll be selfish again. But even he isn't selfish enough to stay. He loves them, so he'll leave.

Conclusion: Wei Wuxian needs to leave. Before he does something stupid like push his problems onto the juniors. 

Before he does something selfish like deciding to stay.

He doesn't mind that they hate him. It's probably for the best. Anyone who's ever loved Wei Wuxian ends up regretting it.

If he can just see them again, that would  be enough. He can be happy with that. Just let him see them one last time, then he'll do everyone a favor and leave.

It will be the last thing he ever asks for, he swears on his second life, so can he please just see them one more time?

Long enough to say goodbye?

That would be enough.

Please?

Please , let that be enough .

Fact: Wei Wuxian wants to see the juniors and Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng just one more time.

Fact:  Wei Wuxian is not a part of their happy ending

Conclusion: He needs to leave.

Fact: Wei Wuxian wants to stay. 

Wants it so desperately, that it threatens to choke him. That it wraps around his throat, cold as a corpse's fingers and sympathetic as a ghost's smile.

Fact: Wei Wuxian needs to leave .

Conclusion: Tonight.

There. No one is allowed to say Wei Wuxian isn't a level-headed, logical individual ever again.

He takes a deep breath, strengthening his resolve, and bounces to his feet. The stars wink gently at him, cheeky and full of secrets that Wei Wuxian can never hope to decipher. Silver pools of light float down through the air, the moon gazing down with a serene, resigned gaze. Even the air has stilled, not a single playful brush of cool fingers against his cheeks, even as he leans as far as he dares into the open air.

It's probably after nine. That's good. He's not really sure how he would have dealt with all of the juniors, especially when he can't see them.

He retreats back into his room, turning with a quiet clap of his hands. In the few days he's been here, he's already managed to almost blow up the room twice, and, if someone were to break in, they would think he had succeeded, if only by virtue of his belongings being scattered haphazardly around the room. But there's a system to his madness, so it takes him just shy of ten minutes to pack everything up in the compartmentalized Giankun pouch he'd figured out a couple of weeks ago.

Standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, he surveys the surroundings one last time. Everything seems to be in order. In fact, if Wei Wuxian didn't know better, he would have never known he occupied this space. It’s too ordered to ever house someone like him. Perfect.

And if he did forget something then, oh well. He’s sure Lan Zhan or one of the Juniors will take care of disposing it. 

He turns back to the window. Placing his hand delicately on the sill, he leans over the edge, eyeballing the distance to the ground. Seems manageable enough, especially with his Golden Core, which, while still not as powerful as his original, has been steadily developing. Nodding to himself, he takes a shallow breath and swings over the edge.

Landing on the ground softly, he glances over his shoulder to make sure that no one heard him—and, yeah, okay, that was a little dumb, considering he knows he wouldn't be able to see them even if he had. Great going, Wei Wuxian. He shakes his head at himself, a rueful smile making its way onto his lips.

First stop? The stables. Hopefully whoever is looking after the animals inside is still awake.

Just as he takes a step forward, the smell of ozone crackles through the air.

"Wei Wuxian," Jiang Cheng growls from behind him, as though that's something humans are meant to do.

Ah. So this is where Wei Wuxian dies. Again.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng grabs him by the back of his robes (he assumes, by the pull of them around his neck and the fact that all of a sudden he's being yanked backwards.) He continues dragging him, which is a whole experience really, when Wei Wuxian can't see or feel him. It's like being dragged by a particularly grumpy gust of wind. Except, you can't feel its temperature, and you can't feel where it wraps around you. All you can see are the people parting before it, scared to get caught up in the gale.

"Jiang Cheng?"He ventures tentatively. At the lack of response, he chokes out a strained laugh, "Y'know, if you wanted to chat you could have just asked, there's no need to go this far!"

"Shut it." The other snaps, all snarled syllables, and Wei Wuxian would bet good money that his face is marred by a severe scow;l eyebrows scrunched together and nose wrinkled.

"So cruel to your—" Wei Wuxian cuts himself off before he can make an irreversible mistake. Stupid . "ah."

Stupid. Thinking it was like Before and everything was still fine between them. Wei Wuxian, for his bad memory, has always been too prone to getting caught up in memories he should no longer have the keys to see.

The pull of his robes tightens around his neck. Looks like Jiang Cheng caught his slip up then. Well, Wei Wuxian guesses he'll just die then. He was wrong earlier; Jiang Cheng has changed.

He drags him back into the room, past the startled innkeeper without so much as a nod, up the staircase, then is nudging a door open with his foot, muttering under his breath the whole time. With a grunt, he yanks Wei Wuxian through the door and slams it behind him, letting him go so quickly that Wei Wuxian stumbles from the sudden lack of resistance. He rights himself, raising an eyebrow in the general direction he thinks Jiang Chneg may be, then glances around the room they're in.

Which is empty.

Meaning one of two things. Either Jiang Cheng dragged him back into the inn into an empty room to murder him without witnesses... Or the room is actually full, and Wei Wuxian just can't see it.

Lan Zhan takes the question from Wei Wuxian fairly quickly, words stilted and almost baffled, as he calls, "Wei Ying?"

"Aha, hello hello." He waves sheepishly, heat rising to his cheeks even though he can't see any of their expressions.

How many people are in here? Is it just Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, and Wei Wuxian? Or are the juniors here too? All of them? 

Shit. And he can’t see their expressions. Wei Wuxian learned early in life that people’s body language, the way they hold their hands and the lines of their limbs, are a lot more reliable than the words coming out of their mouth. Had to learn it so he knew which street vendors he could harass to get a morsel of food instead of a black eye. Had to learn it so he could see the fine line between mildly annoying and creating-an-intersect-conflict. 

He has it down to a science, the ability to see a hit before it’s thrown, to preemptively put himself between two people about to come to blows.

But that’s useless.

It’s all absolutely useless now, isn’t it? All those skills he’s painstakingly cultivated to keep himself alive, rendered meaningless by one simple curse. Shit. What is Wei Wuxian supposed to do? 

He tamps down on the swell of panic that threatens to rise into his throat and choke him. He doesn’t have time for that. Panic later. Think now. At the moment, he just needs to figure out how to escape. To get out of this conversation, get out of this interrogation, get out of this place, out of this curse. 

Maybe he should go over the rooftops next time? Who’s going to look up to find him?

Okay, plan for when he manages to get himself out of this scenario: go up on the rooftops until he's far enough away that even Lan Zhan won't be able to find him. Perfect. Now to figure out how to get out of whatever this is.

"Senior Wei?" Wei Wuxian turns towards the voice, conjuring up an image of Lan Sizhui in his mind and picturing it tilting its head ever so slightly, brows starting to knit together as the otherwise disembodied voice questions, "Didn't you go to sleep?"

So, at the very least, Lan Sizhui is here too. If Wei Wuxian takes into account what he knows about the Juniors, then that means Lan Jingyi is probably here as well. Until proven otherwise, Wei Wuxian guesses he should carry on as if everyone is in the room.

He wags a finger at the source of Lan Sizhui's voice, clicking his tongue, "Shouldn't you Lans be asleep? Isn't it after nine? Breaking the rules? How naughty, tsk, tsk."

Jiang Cheng apparently has no patience for his antics tonight, as he snaps, "Wei Wuxian! Why were you outside?"

"I wasn't aware I wasn't allowed to go outside?" He tilts his head, in the way he knows pisses Jiang Cheng off. It was how he always distracted the other from things when they were younger. My back? Oh no, it's fine, but Jiang Cheng, what about that bird, should we hunt it? 

With the head tilt added in, Jiang Cheng never remembered what it was he had been mad about in the first place.

"You just finished a night hunt idiot! What, do you still think you're invincible?"

Oh, that’s right.

Sometimes he forgets. He missed sixteen years, didn't he? It makes sense that Jiang Cheng would build up a resistance to all of his old tricks. Especially if he hated — hates , Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng hates him, present-tense.

Before Wei Wuxian can get too lost in his thoughts, Lan Zhan is snapping at him;( or as close to snapping as his voice ever gets,) a stern reprimand of, "Jiang Wanyin."

"Ah, it's fine, Lan Zhan." He flaps a hand at where he thinks Lan Zhan is positioned and hopes against hope that the other hasn't decided to start pacing the room.

Wei Wuxian would have heard his footsteps. Right? Ah, this curse is so strange. Where does it draw the line at an individual? He hadn't been able to see Zidian, had he? And he definitely can’t see their robes or accessories. 

A voice sounds right next to him, a strange strained note coloring the words, "Senior Wei?"

He jolts in his seat.

When did Lan Jingyi get so close?

He rubs at his nose, letting out a sheepish laugh as he directs his eyes to where Lan Jingyi's voice sounded from, "Aiya, Lan Jingyi! When did you get there?"

"Senior Wei?" This time the voice sounds from his opposite side, crackly as dry earth, and almost as crack filled.

Wei Wuxian whirls towards it and he can almost feel the heavy gazes of everyone in the room. How did he miss the footsteps? Has Lan Jingyi always been able to move this quietly?

"Yes?" He laughs, a strangled, mangled thing, that fits better with the person who made the burial mounds into a home than the body he's in now,  “That's me?"

It's Lan Sizhui who speaks up this time, voice pensive as it draws closer, "Senior Wei, you can't see us, can you?"

Wei Wuxian's expression freezes, "What? That's a little ridiculous, don't you think? If you continue like this, people may accuse me of being a bad influence."

"You didn't react at all when I moved!" Lan Jingyi shouts accusingly, causing Wei Wuxian to suppress a wince.

Gods, they really needed to have a conversation about volume control before he leaves.

"Ah well, I did say this senior was tired, didn't I?" He shakes his head, a nervous chuckles spilling from his lips.

Fuck. What Wei Wuxian would give for a jar of Emperor's Smile right about now. What he would give for any alcohol at all, actually.

"Then you shouldn't have gone out walking, idiot. Especially with a Giankun pouch ―" Wei Wuxian can only imagine Jiang Cheng's eyes are narrowing, accusation heavy in his voice―"what, were you just going to fucking leave?"

He clicks his tongue, "Nothing like that. I just wanted to keep my room tidy."

"More concerningly, Senior Wei didn't react at all when you put your hand on his shoulder." He would be proud, if Lan Sizhui's words hadn't caused the air to constrict in his throat.

"So what, he can't see or... feel us?" Ouyang Zizhen concludes, and Wei Wuxian should have known it would be the romantic who would manage to summarize it so well.

He opens his mouth to respond but, before he can, he watches in mild bewilderment as his wrist floats slowly into the air seemingly of its own volition. He's going to go ahead and assume that one of the juniors has come forward and grabbed his wrist and he's not possessed. After all, he’d probably know if he was possessed as well as cursed. 

"Fuck–" Lan Jingyi exclaims, but is promptly interrupted by a scandalized call of his name. He continues in a much calmer tone, Wei Wuxian's wrist floating gently back down to his lap, "Sorry! It's just the situation kinda calls for it!"

Lan Jingyi’s not wrong, necessarily. The situation certainly isn’t ideal. It's strange, to not be able to feel the heat of a hand around his wrist. To not be able to feel the press of fingers into his skin. To not be able to feel anything , but the shifting air as it moves.

"Ah, when did you juniors get so smart, hm?" He grins, broad and cocky, as though the curtains of his mask weren't just roughly pulled aside, and hopes it will distract them long enough that he can figure a way out of this situation, "Must’ve been my influence!"

"Was it the spirit?" Jin Ling's voice is a shrill accusation; the judge, the jury, and the verdict, all wrapped into one.

Lan Jingyi gasps, shouting, "You said it went well!"

Wei Wuxian thinks they're all being a little over dramatic about this. Thinks that they need to take a deep breath and calm down— and, c’mon Wei Wuxian breathe in . It doesn’t matter that the illusion he’s painstakingly crafted ―both for his sake and the sake of those around him― is slowly crashing down and he can only watch. That’s no excuse. Get it together, and breathe .

He should be able to do that much, right? 

Should. Should; as though both of his lives haven’t been made up of missed opportunities. Should have, would have, could have. Wei Wuxian, breathe , you can have your breakdown later, once you melt into the horizon.

"Well, I mean, it was a success?" He shrugs, pushing down the urge to flee that's been steadily rising in him ever since Jiang Cheng grabbed his robes and threw him at the junior's feet like a disciple waiting for punishment from the gods, "It's just a little curse, there's no need to worry!"

"A curse?" Ouyang Zizhen sounds genuinely scandalized. Maybe he should take up a career in acting? "Senior Wei!"

"It's fine! It doesn't hurt me." Physically, at least, but he has a feeling making that clarification wouldn't go over well.

Jinag Cheng hmphs, the rustling of robes audible, “So what? You just can’t see people? Can't feel them? What the hell’s that?”

“Well, actually, aha," He rubs at his nose sheepishly, keeping his eyes concentrated on his lap, "I can see most people.”

“What? Then why are we so special?" Because you hate me , he thinks, but doesn't say, instead remaining silent as Jiang Cheng grows louder, blame heavy in his voice as he snaps, "What did you do, idiot?”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t really matter. I’ll figure it out.” He flaps his hand in the air, nodding to himself; he has a plan after all.

In fact, he was in the middle of figuring it out when Jiang Cheng had interrupted.

"By leaving again?" Jiang Cheng's voice is sharp, accusatory, as he snaps out with thorny words that threaten to puncture Wei Wuxian's lungs.

He suppresses a wince. He doesn’t really have a right to be hurt by that, does he?

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan's voice rumbles over them, a rolling fog bank that Wei Wuxian can't see any shapes in, no matter how hard he strains.

Wei Wuxian stills, coiling in on himself as he forces his mind to slow down, forcing himself to ignore the creature in the back of it that’s screaming “danger!” at the top of its lungs. He knows.

If he's not careful, he’s scared he’ll lose himself in the curling wisps of vapor. What a fate. Doomed to wander the fog banks, blindly groping for something solid and hands coming away filled only with drifting mist, slipping coyly through his fingers.

“Aha, okay, okay, calm down." His fingers tap out an unsteady rhythm on his leg, a thousand distant songs running through their bones,  "She did say there were some, uh, conditions to why I wouldn’t be able to see certain people.”

“Are you saying you let yourself get cursed? Idiot! You’re so selfish!” Ah, looks like Jiang Cheng still knows him best after all.

There’s a beat of silence, in which Wei Wuxian assumes the Juniors are doing that thing where they all make eye contact and communicate telepathically. He still hasn’t quite figured out how to do it yet, but maybe his time away will help him make a breakthrough. 

Lan Sizhui's voice is so small, that Wei Wuxian wants to reach out and hold, and hold, and hold, and never let go, as he asks, "What were the conditions?"

“Oh, y’know– the person–people– just had to feel strongly about me.” Clasping his hands in his lap, he keeps his eyes resolutely concentrated on them as he traces his thumb over dry knuckles.

Silence.

Wei Wuxian doesn't know what to do with this–

Silence.

Wei Wuxian hates this–

Silence.

Wei Wuxian can't breathe–

Silence.

“Alright." Jiang Cheng sighs, sounding so very tired that Wei Wuxian aches , "So how do we fix your mistake?”

“I just have to accept your feelings, I suppose.” He shrugs, keeping his gaze glued to his hands, a safe point, a lighthouse in the fog because at least there he knows that he's not accidentally staring at someone with a small, vacant smile, and empty eyes.

“And you still can’t see us?" Jiang Cheng is all crackling, dangerous edges, a craggy cliff face, yet Wei Wuxian keeps tricking himself into hearing concern as the other aggressively probes, "What’ve you been wasting your time on, huh?”

“I don’t know! I tried it with Jin Ling earlier, but it didn’t work so I thought maybe leaving could help— after all this is a sensory curse so maybe the issue is the constant input and giving it a break will help with that–” 

Wei Wuxian's rambling, something he hasn't done in years, a bad habit left over from his childhood when he had to rush out every word to make sure no one cut him off before he could finish.He bites his tongue to stop the word vomit. Forcefully. Enough so that it hurts, but not enough that it draws blood. Yet.

“You tried with–" Jin Ling snaps, so much like his uncle, and Wei Wuxian should really congratulate Jiang Cheng on being able to raise a child before he leaves―  "What the hell are you talking about?”

“Y'know, earlier? When I came out of the temple and said I accepted how you were feeling?" At the blank silence, Wei Wuxian forces a chuckle, gently teasing, "Aren't I the one with the memory like a sieve, Jin Ling?”

“Wait–you don’t mean–" His voice cracks, strained and desperate though Wei Wuxian can't figure out why , "when I said I hated you?”

Wei Wuxian furrows his brows, feeling strangely like he's miscalculated, “Yeah?”

“But–that's not– you don’t really think–“ Jin Ling sounds so lost, words tumbling over each other, and Wei Wuxian wishes he could reach out to him, wishes he could pat him on the shoulder or pull him into a hug, hide him from the world and all it’s thorny edges. 

But he can't. What a bad uncle he is. It's no wonder the teen hates him.

“Wei Ying." Why does Lan Zhan's voice sound so strained? 

Is that Wei Wuxian's fault? Did he do that ? But how? He doesn't think he's done anything?

“Look, you guys don’t need to pretend, okay? I get it." And maybe it's petty, (but Wei Wuxian has never claimed to be anything but,) to mutter  with just the wrong amount of bitterness, "Besides, when she was explaining she made it perfectly clear. The conditions have been met. I can't see you.”

“What exactly did she say?” It's rather fitting, Wei Wuxian muses, that Jiang Cheng got a whip that summons lightning, when his tone makes the air crackle with ozone.

“Aiya, who could really say?" Even though her words repeat in his head on the hourly, have been repeating ever since he emerged from the cave and couldn't see a single junior. He waves a hand lazily in the air, "Something about hate and the like."

“As examples, right? Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Cheng spends a moment spluttering, during which Wei Wuxian is almost tempted to offer to get him a glass of water, "You’re such an idiot– how–Wei Wuxian!”

“Jiang Cheng?” He tilts his head, but he thinks the effect of it might be ruined slightly by his gaze stubbornly staying glued on his folded hands.

“ No one here hates you, you absolute disaster!" And he's growling again, wonderful, "How could you even think that!”

"Well, that's where the 'or the like' comes in, doesn't it? Come on, Jiang Cheng, you're smarter than this." Unless he's trying to rub it in. But Wei Wuxian doesn't think he's that petty.

"And what, exactly, do you think the like is, Wei Wuxian?" The deceptive calm of his voice makes the hair stand up on Wei Wuxian's arm, the silent spaces in between words crackling like the calm before the storm.

Well, it looks like Wei Wuxian was mistaken. Jiang Cheng is just as petty as him.

"I've never known you to be cruel." He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, keeping his voice carefully blank, "Aiya, you know, disgust. Fear is the most likely, I think."

“Senior Wei... do you– do you really think we think that?" Ouyang Zizhen's voice is all choked up, nasal, throaty words sounding like they're forcing their way from him.

It almost sounds like he's about to cry. Oh no. Wei Wuxian has to fix this.

Then he can leave.

"Aiya, what's with that tone of voice?" The smile he gives is too light, the corners of it fitting uncomfortably into his mouth, but it's better than nothing.

"No one here hates Wei Ying." Lan Zhan says, and Wei Wuxian can imagine the small divot between his brows, that would have appeared with his words, marring his otherwise perfect face.

Then he remembers that he doesn't have a right to imagine things like that anymore, and feels like he might choke.

"Yeah, Lan Zhan, I get it–" He starts to respond, impressed with how steady his voice is coming out when it feels like he can't breathe, but Lan Zhan breaks the no interrupting rule seemingly without repent.

"No. No one here hates Wei Ying." It's forceful, something strangely desperate underlying the words.

Everyone always says that Wei Wuxian comes in like a tornado in the spring, but he thinks that maybe that description is more apt for Lan Zhan. It's just that Lan Zhan chooses to stand in the eye of the storm instead of following Wei Wuxian into the winds. But this time, he seems to be embracing those raging winds, the pure power of them underlying his every word and well– the Lans don't lie.

 "Oh." His voice is small, echoing through the space as though it's really as empty as his eyes lead him to believe.

Oh.

It clicks, what Lan Zhan is trying to say.

Oh.

He feels fragile, as though, if someone were to speak, the sound will shatter him into a million fragmented pieces. 

Oh.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan's voice, usually so unreadable, washes over Wei Wuxian, and he feels like he's going to drown in its emotions- even if he can't figure out what a single one of them means.

Why does Lan Zhan sound like someone stabbed him? Surely, Wei Wuxian would have heard that? And if not heard it, wouldn't he have seen the flash of a sword? Or does the curse include spiritual tools?

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan repeats, and Wei Wuxian's pretty sure he's right in front of him, something impossibly sweet coloring his tone, dripping down his spine like melting honey.

The Lans don't lie.

Oh.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan promptly forces everyone up to bed after that sword wreck of a conversation. Honestly, it was like a new version of torture. Jiang Cheng somehow bullies his way into planting himself in Wei Wuxian's room, mumbling something about stupid flight risks and annoying curses. Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling had also tried to force their way in, but Lan Sizhui had spoken up, calmly, the feeling of his gaze burning into Wei Wuxian's neck as he'd said that they should give Senior Wei some space, some time to rest, they could talk in the morning, after all.

It felt a lot like a threat.

It felt a lot like a promise.

For a while, Wei Wuxian lies awake in his bed, hands folded over his sternum, fingers gripping so tight he can practically feel them turning white. Jiang Cheng shifts on the other side of the room, candle burning low as he dabs at the ink stone with enough force Wei Wuxian is surprised it doesn't break.

He'd planned to simply outlast Jiang Cheng. When they were younger, it hadn't been too hard. Wei Wuxian could often be found flouncing on the rooftops towards three in the morning, cheeks smudged with soot from another talisman mishap, while Jiang Cheng slumbered away below. The only time he can remember actually falling asleep before the other was when they shared a bed, so long ago that Wei Wuxian can feel the memory slip form his mind like sand, and he's left wondering if it ever happened at all.

Against his will, his eyelids start to fall, candle fire blinking warmly at him.

He wakes up alone.

Which seems a little funny to him, considering Jiang Cheng's insistence on staying with him last night.

When he finally goes downstairs, long after five am, he's not sure what he expects.

Whatever it is, it's certainly not Lan Sizhui letting out a sigh so loud and aggrieved that Wei Wuxian can hear it from the other side of the room. Nor is it the inn, vibrant with the hues of life, bustling around him despite the relatively early hour. The innkeeper offers him a nod and jerks his chin over to an area of suspiciously empty space.

As he picks his way around chattering inn patrons, there's a shout. The familiar tunes of Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling bickering away follows, interrupted occasionally by Jiang Cheng adding a thundering comment. A dull smile spreads across Wei Wuxian's face, the rhythm of familiarity—the echoes of the past— leaving him feeling a baffling mixture of fond, bittersweet, and exhausted.

It's Lan Sizhui who notices him first, offering a clear, "Good morning, Senior Wei."

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan follows suit quickly, voice tempered as freshly blown glass.

The rest of them fall into a hush, the void left loud in the buzzing inn. Feeling like a ladybug, plucked from his dew-covered fern and passed around a group of curious children with grubby hands, Wei Wuxian waves. Awkwardly. Whether anyone replies in kind, he has no idea (though he's fairly sure at least Ouyang ZIizhen would, if out of nothing other than pity).

He forges bravely onward, stopping in what he thinks is the middle of the group and propping his hands on his waist. Squinting, he surveys the air in front of him. No matter how hard he looks, there's not a single flash of white robes, dark hair, wide eyes. It's just...space.

A glance towards the opening door confirms that it's fairly late in the morning for them to still be here. Especially if they need to make their separate ways home. What the hell is happening? 

"Why are you still here?" At the stunned silence that follows, Wei Wuxian quickly plasters on a smile and molds a laugh, shaking his head as he adds, "Ah! You have to get going, don't you?"

It's Lan Zhan who finally answers, steady as an ox, "Wei Ying. Return to Gusu with us."

"Yes! Senior Wei, you have to! It's boring without you." Ever quick to jump on the bandwagon, Lan Jingyi cheers loudly, causing Lan Sizhui to shush him.

Wei Wuxian snorts, nodding knowingly. "Well, we wouldn't want you to be bored, now would we."

But-he hesitates, hand hovering as it reaches for the tea cup.

See, Wei Wuxian knows the Lans don't lie, but, well, neither do his eyes. He can't see them, can't feel them, so what else is there to assume than they're lying? Or maybe they've tricked themselves into thinking they feel a certain way when in reality they just....don't.

"Please?" Ah.

Lan Sizhui has learned to play dirty. Wei Wuxian's in equal parts proud and betrayed.

He blows a breath through pursed lips, taking a sip of the sharp Jasmine tea. Placing it back on the table he leans back onto his palms, shaking his head as he looks up at the ceiling helplessly. He knows when he's beat.

"Aiya, fine, fine. " Pushover , he thinks bitterly, even as he continues, "Whatever you want."

"Yes!" Lan Jingyi crows, and Wei Wuxian bets he's pumping his fist in the air.

"Do you need to pack?" Ah, Lan Zhan is so considerate.

Here they are, making room for him to come back with them because of some stupid curse, and he's already slowing them down.

"Now that you mention it, the job I did last night was probably a little messy." He shrugs, glossing over his attempted escape as smoothly as he can.

"Go. We'll wait." The Juniors murmur their agreement.

With a barely there nod, he darts to the stairs. This isn't so bad. He can still leave. Who can stop him, if they don't know it's happening? Maybe he and Lil' Apple can start a farm. A fruit farm. Surely fruits are easier to grow than radishes?

Behind him, Jin ling declares imperiously, "You're coming too, jiujiu."

"I wasn't going to not come!" Jiang Cheng snaps, "Who do you think I am, twerp?"

"How was I supposed to know!" Jin Ling squawks indignantly.

A crash follows the words. Wei Wuxian can only imagine what happened. It was probably Jiang Cheng's fault.

"Watch your tone, brat." 

Definitely Jiang Cheng's fault.

He shakes his head to himself as he goes up the stairs, entering his room with a silent sliding of the doors. Looking around the room it's obvious that, even though he thought it was clean last night, it's still pretty chaotic. Scraps of scribbled-on paper, ink pressed tightly around the edges like it's trying to jump off the page, still litter the floor haphazardly. Inky fingerprints press tracks into the floor, fleeing from a forgotten ink well shoved far into the corner.

Trotting forward, he scoops one of the lost papers up from the floor, narrowing his eyes as he reads over the writing on it.

Well.

Looks like it's a good thing he stayed after all.

Wouldn't have wanted to forget his oh-so-important discourse on what spice paired best with honey cakes after all.

He heaves a sigh. It's probable, if he thinks about it, that he can still manage to slip away. Even if he might miss the notes decorating the floor, he doesn't really need them. He packed up everything he needs last night, albeit hastily and in a haphazard manner he's probably going to regret as soon as he has to unpack. So all he has to do is leave. Before anyone thinks to check for him.

Easier said than done, apparently , as there's a knock against the door frame, and then a hesitant, familiar voice calling out, "Senior Wei?"

There goes that plan. That's fine. Wei Wuxian can just wait until Jin Ling says whatever it is he needs to say and then he'll be on his way. Actually, it's probably better that it's happening like this. Clearing the air, or whatever.

"My favorite nephew?" He tilts his head, directing a broad grin towards the door.

"I'm your only nephew." Jin Ling replies, but it's subdued, mild in a way Wei Wuxian has never known him to be. Oh boy. There's a charged silence and then, Jin Ling's coughing roughly, words tripping over each other as he asks, "Do you really think I hate you?"

"Aha, no, of course not." He laughs, but the sound gets caught in his throat.

Jin Ling snorts, muttering something to himself before he declares imperiously, "You have jiujiu's lying face."

Wei Wuxian blinks.

"What?"

"When you lie." Jin Ling waves a scrap of paper around in the air. "You do the same thing."

He raises an eyebrow skeptically, "What thing?"

"You kinda- wrinkle your nose and look to the side a bit. Jiujiu does it all the time when he's talking about Fairy."

Wei Wuxian represses a shudder at the mention of the demon dog, tilting his head to the side. "Oh."

Jin Ling's probably imagining things. If Wei Wuxian had such an obvious tell there's no way he'd have gotten away with half the stuff he did— does.

"Yeah." There's a rustling of robes, a few stomping footsteps as Jin Ling makes his way to lean against the creaking wall nearest Wei Wuxian. "So. I don't , you know."

"What?" Doesn't what ? Have the same lying face? Good for him?

Jin Ling scuffs his feet against the floor awkwardly. "I don't, y'know, hate you. Or anything."

Something fragile takes root in Wei Wuxian's chest, reaching out tender spirals towards the words Jin Ling offers. It's hard to breathe. He takes in a shuddering breath, curling his hands over his heart as he tries to stop the spirals from reaching their destination. 

"Ah. that's good then." If his voice sounds a little shaky, well, he did just move pretty fast to shove that half-finished talisman in his bag.

"Yeah." His voice hushes, confiding, "I like how you tell me stories about my mom."

"Well-" He clears his throat, a smile that tastes like lemons in the spring fleeting as it crosses his lips "-Shijie was the best."

"You're pretty okay too, y'know. And- and I guess I can deal with  you messing up my hair or hugging me if it makes you happy- even though it's embarrassing. " He practically spits this, like the words are burning holes through his tongue.

The smile sweetens to fresh summer lemonade as he opens his mouth to respond. Quickly, though, it’s cut off by Jin Ling carrying on with a flustered splutter.

"But don't think that means you can just throw yourself at me when you come and visit Koi Tower!" A stomp echoes through the area making Wei Wuxian burst into delighted laughter.

And Wei Wuxian thinks that he understands what Jin Ling is really saying, underneath the faux outraged tone and blustering words. 

Wei Wuxian is welcome. 

Wei Wuxian is welcome . 

Wei Wuxian is welcome .

He ducks his head, hiding the tiny, pleased smile that's grown across his face as he replies, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good!" Jin Ling huffs, and his footsteps stomp from the room.

Well. Guess that's that then.

Perhaps he should consider staying? At least for Jin Ling.

He shakes his head violently. No. No, Wei Wuxian, don't do this to yourself again. You made a decision, stick to it. Be smart, for once in all your miserable lives. A shaky breath pushes through his lips, hands balling into tight fists at his side before he forces a gulp of fresh air into his lungs. He peels his fingers from their curled position one by one.

The doors slide open, then shut closed with an aggressive bang.  Stomping, much like Jin Ling's but heavier , with a concrete purpose and the weight of the world weighing them down, traipses into the room. Well, that can only mean one person.

Resolutely, Wei Wuxian keeps his eyes on his hands, concentrating on making sure the fingers of them stay unfolded, loose and pliable, for whatever is about to happen. As if he can catch a storm with his bare hands and place it inside of a jar for later.

"Whatever you're planning, stop it," Jiang Cheng demands, words gruff.

Ah. So no fighting today then. Wei Wuxian is thankful. The manufactured looseness of his fingers becomes a little more real.

"Why, Jiang Cheng- I have no idea what you mean!" He places a hand daintily against his chest, directing an aghast look towards the doorway.

Jiang Cheng grumbles in return, taking up around the same position as Jin Ling had, "Don't start with me, idiot."

"Aiya!" Wei Wuxian shakes his head, a helpless laugh pushing past his lips. "Always so mean."

Is that all he came to say? Why bother?

There's a shifting close to him, as though Jiang Cheng is leaning forward as he grunts, "Shut up."

When they were younger (before, before, before), Wei Wuxian convinced himself that Jiang Cheng would always be there. it had taken him a while to reach that point. So long in fact, that he was surprised the night he snuck back in from a rainstorm, lightning filled words buried in the clouds and dark bruises washing away in the downpour, and wasn't taken aback to see Jiang Cheng standing with a towel in hand and a yawn stretching his sour face.

Maybe he took those times, and Jiang Cheng, too much for granted.

"So rude! What would shijie say?" Wei Wuxian finally replies, absently, without really thinking about it, as he pats under the table for any stray talismans.

At the silence that follows, he tilts his head, going back over his words in his head and oh—

He whirls around, eyes blown wide with panic as brings his hands up to hover in front of his chest, fingers twitching to reach out, "Jiang Cheng, I didn't—"

"Stop. Just—Stop." Jiang Cheng heaves a heavy sigh, muttering to himself under his breath before barking, so loudly that it echoes violently around the space, "She'd tell you not to leave, idiot."

There's a fragile glass rose growing in Wei Wuxian's chest, a clear petal uncurling to reach towards Jiang Cheng. Tentative. As though it knows how easy it is to shatter. And Jiang Cheng replies in his own way, grumbling something under his breath as he lifts an ink stone from the other end of the table and floats it back to Wei Wuxian, meeting the reaching edges of stained glass with smudged fingers.

"She would, wouldn't she?" If Wei Wuxian's laugh is a little wet when he replies, neither of them comment on it.

"Duh."  Jiang Cheng let's the quiet hover for a moment, then gruffly continues, "So. Don't."

"Yeah, okay." Wei Wuxian nods.

Does Jiang Cheng want him to stay?

"Don't even think about it, bastard," Jiang Cheng threatens, and, for a second, Wei Wuxian can see his fifteen year old brother rolling his eyes, heavy brows drawn making elevens on his forehead.

He snorts, waving the image away as he shoves a stray brush into his pack. "Yeah, yeah. I promise."

Maybe he doesn't need to leave quite so fast. 

" Promise ?" Jiang Cheng stresses disbelievingly, tone derisive as he grumps, "What are we, five?"

"Aw, Jiang Cheng, you don't want me to pinky promise?" He taps at his nose, making his eyes wide and questioning as he tilts his head. "But then how do you know I'll keep my word, hm?"

There's a rough growl that sounds almost, dare he say it, amused, and Jiang Cheng grumbles, "Shut it."

Wei Wuxian pouts, biting back a grin, and fluttering his eyelashes innocently. "So no pinky promise then?"

"You!" A piece of paper is flicked at his face, with all the force Jiang Cheng can logically put into such a flimsy feather-light square.

It hits Wei Wuxian square in the face.

"Me, me!" A  laugh bubbles up as he lets himself fall back against the ground.

"Just finish packing!" Jiang Cheng snaps.

The air grows taut. Wei Wuxian wonders if maybe, somehow, sometime,  he went too far. If maybe something he said or did finally crossed the new, shifting line in the sands that Jiang Cheng has drawn for their relationship. But then Jiang Cheng is huffing, a sharp squeak signifying a spin on his heel, and then doors to the room are sliding partially shut.

His chuckles die down and Wei Wuxian's mood meanders downwards with them. It buries itself in the ground, far away from the golden rays of Jin Ling's robes - the exact shade already fading from Wei Wuxian's rice-paper mind. It's fine. He can just sneak by Koi tower and swipe a sample of it from a tailor or from robes left unattended in the gardens.

Jin Ling doesn't hate him.

Apparently.

Wei Wuxian still can't see him. 

So, yeah. Apparently . Jury's still out on that one.

Delicate knocking echoes from the doorway and, a moment later, Lan Zhan is speaking in a hushed tone, much too intimate for so large a space.

"Ready?"  He asks.

"I don't think I've forgotten—" A stack of papers, covered in hasty ink scrawls and tied sloppily with a red ribbon hovers in front of his face. He chuckles, plucking it from Lan Zhan's hand and shoving it into his bag. "—Ah, what would I do without you? Now I don't think I've forgotten anything."

Lan Zhan hums, and Wei Wuxian swears he can feel the noise thrumming through him, sinking up with his own heartbeat. He laughs, trying to push the noise out of him. 

Spinning on his heel, he all but flees to the door— not really, it's a strategic retreat , thank you very much. Unfortunately, gravity seems to have it out for him, his foot catching on a slightly raised board. He pitches forward. Squeezing his eyes shut, he braces for impact, only for his momentum to be suspended in one fell swoop. His left arm tugs backwards and he ( foolishly , always foolishly ) allows himself to sag against  it— sag backwards into Lan Zhan's support

"Wei Ying. Careful." Lan Zhan warns, so close to his ear that a shiver runs down Wei Wuxian's spine. Even though he can't feel the heat of Lan Zhan’s breath, can’t lean in like he wants to.

"Ah, I'm fine, I'm fine." He wrinkles his nose, wriggling where he seemingly floats in the air, suspended by nothing he can feel. "This is rather strange though."

Concentrating on that is as good a distraction as he's going to get, from the fact that Lan Zhan is apparently supporting all of his weight with a single hand, if the wrinkling of his robes is anything to go by. Also a good distraction from remembering he can't actually feel the heat of him as sandalwood envelops his senses. 

Ah. 

So, even if he can't see or feel him, he can still smell him. 

Good to know.

Lan Zhan hums inquisitively.

"Well, it's kind of like I'm just floating." Flapping his hands around, Wei Wuxian wiggles slightly—seemingly held up by pure air. This is so weird. "At least to me. Even though I know you're here."

"Ah." Lan Zhan says.

When he doesn't release his arm, Wei Wuxian tugs gently at it, tilting his head as he offers, "I can walk?"

"You wish to?" Wei Wuxian wishes he knew how to decipher Lan Zhan's tone.

Wishes he had some kind of reference book he could pull out and look up everyone's shifting voices in. Wishes he could understand why the hell they keep changing.

"I mean, yeah?" He shrugs. Is there an alternative? "Thanks for the save though."

"No need." Lan Zhan releases his arms, Wei Wuxian's robes falling back into place along with his gravity.

Wei Wuxian snorts. "Yeah, yeah."

In his humble opinion, he should never stop thanking Lan Zhan. But that's a topic for another time. Preferably a time when he can see Lan Zhan and judge just how far he can push him. 

If that ever happens.

They make their way downstairs together, Wei Wuxian yammering in Lan Zhan's ears to keep his mind from wandering.

"Senior Wei! Here!" Lan Jingyi calls, his robes swishing as he sidles up to Wei Wuxian, who tilts his head to peer at him on instinct.

He watches, bemused, as a handful of lLoquats float before him, bobbing slightly as they’re proffered abruptly in his direction. His fingers curl around them on instinct as they’re pushed into his loose hands. "Thank you?" He offers, befuddled.

"No problem!" Lan Jingyi chirps back, swishing away.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head down at the handful of fruit. "What was that about?"

"You're such an idiot." Jiang Cheng snorts, bustling past with stomping footsteps. "Just eat your damn food."

"Awww," Wei Wuxian draws it out, making his voice crack annoyingly, "Jiang Cheng is so caring ."

"I'm leaving," Jiang Cheng declares grumpily.

Jiang Cheng presumably leaves, as he doesn't offer another comment even as Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out at the space he used to occupy. He bites back a gooey grin as Lan Sizhui walks with him to the door, quietly narrating the placement of the other. 

Humming contentedly, he pops a Loquat into his mouth. He nods to The sweet, floral juice leaks over his tongue, filling his chest with nostalgia. The handful disappears almost as soon as it appears, Wei Wuxian licking the nectar from his fingers as they exit the inn.

Outside, the air is tepid, waves of heat ebbing and flowing around him as he wades into it. It pushes around his arms, encircling his neck until it feels like coils of scarf draped to lie languidly against his chest. Around him, the townspeople move in time with the air, drifting past him on elegant currents. The peach seller offers him a nod as she trots past, woven basket sheltered in her embrace.

Jin Ling calls out to them, and Wei Wuxianturns their way to see—

"Lil' Apple! My beautiful baby! I missed you!" He cries, flinging himself upon the unimpressed donkey.

With a put-upon bray, Lil' Apple shifts slightly to the side. But, other than that, they make no move to escape the kisses Wei Wuxian is peppering on their snout. That counts as a win as far as he's concerned.

They set out fairly quickly after Wei Wuxian concludes his tender reunion with Lil' Apple. It's slow going. Largely due to Lil' Apple (Wei Wuxian is starting to think that the donkey may be responsible for at least half the inconveniences he suffers through—not counting the ones he causes himself), no one gets on their sword to speed up the process. 

The treeline yields to a tired, yellow pathway, a dirt river twining through pockets of water and swaying crowns of green atop tired reeds. Breaking up the humid air, a tepid breeze runs clever fingers through Wei Wuxian's hair. The sun crosses the sky in slow, languorous steps, unbothered by the world passing by beneath its rays.

Lil' Apple slows. Just as Wei Wuxian is about to raise an eyebrow at the donkey, there's a whoop from behind him and he's engulfed in sunset orange butterflies, flapping past him and down the road like a sparkly, obnoxiously colored tornado.

He spins around, wide-eyed as he looks for who—ah. Wait.

Idiot .

There's another triumphant cheer from in front of him and he tilts his head, ears catching the noise carefully.

"Oh? Lan Jingyi? Did you do that?" He questions, taking measured steps forward.

Lan Jingyi's voice is excited, and much closer than Wei Wuxian was prepared for when he exclaims, "Me and Sizhui! Pretty nice, right?"

"They looked a lot like—"

"It's like the talisman you used to break into places, right? Sizhui said that's where he got the basis from." Wei Wuxian stifles a snort as Lan Jingyi breaks the no interrupting others rule. 

"Ah, I thought it looked familiar. " He nods to himself, a smile growing across his face at the fact that they apparently think high enough of him to use his talisman for— "Wait—What's this about breaking into places? You'll ruin my reputation!"

"Well, it's true!" Lan Jingyi shoots back.

"They did other things!" Wei Wuxian squawks defensively, hugging the talisman paper to his chest.

Kids these days have no respect. Where does he get off with such outlandish slander, huh? Wei Wuxian is but a humble cultivator. He doesn't deserve this. Talismans do many things! Like—

There's a disbelieving snort. "Like what?"

"Oh, you know." He waves a hand in the air, smoothing the talisman back out on his thigh. "They look pretty."

"Is that it?" Lan Jingyi sounds incredibly, unfairly , unimpressed.

A petulant pout steals across Wei Wuxian's face, crossing his arms as he sullenly replies, "No. Besides, you should never underestimate the impact of a pretty thing."

Lan Jingyi scoffs, and Wei Wuxian can practically feel the weight of his doubtful gaze as he declares, "I don't believe you."

"Aiya—" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head sadly "—so suspicious of little ol' me. I'm hurt."

There's a grumble but before Wei Wuxian can properly respond to that, the air next to his elbow is disturbed and his arm seemingly drags itself forcefully downwards. He lets it happen without much resistance, squatting on the side of the road as a piece of talisman paper wiggles excitedly in front of his eyes.

It's pushed into his hands, and he looks down at it with a raised eyebrow. Gods, It really does look like his old ward-breaker. Where did the kids even find that? Did he show it to them? He doesn't even want to think about what Lan Qiren would do if he found out.

"So, so, so, how could we make it better?" Lan Jingyi's words trip over each other in his excitement.

Leaning back on the balls of his feet, Wei Wuxian takes a moment to rub a crooked finger over his nose as he considers the lines on the paper. "You want them to scout?"

"Yes sir, Senior Wei, sir."

Wei Wuxian suppresses a shudder at that.

"I'd suggest making this line thicker then, for prolonged time. And maybe—" Wei Wuxian drags the edge of his thumb in a sweeping line over the talisman paper "—yeah, that'll work. Add that line there and that should help with the sensory input angle of it."

"Oh, that makes sense."

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes at the talisman, the choppy, experimental lines blurring. "Did you guys really alter this on your own?"

"Yeah—well, it was mostly Sizhui—" There's a shifting of robes—Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Jingyi is probably rubbing at his neck, darting wide eyes towards the sky.

"Ah ah, none of that." With a clicking of his tongue, he jabs his finger at a portion of the talisman paper. "This line is you, it's heavy-handed, very thick, and part of the reason the talisman has worked so well. It was a team effort."

"Really?"

He chuckles, swatting at the grass next to him as he gently chastises, "What do you mean really? Weren't you the one who said so?"

"I mean, yeah—" A tuft of grass rises into the air, falling to the sides as blades are sheepishly picked from it. "—but, you're the talisman expert, y'know?"

Wei Wuxian blinks. "I'm the what."

"I'm not saying it again." Is Lan Jingyi embarrassed ?

Wei Wuxian didn't know that was even possible .

"No, no, this is gold." He leans forward, into what he's 93% sure is Lan Jingyi's space, grin board enough to crack his face open as he needles. "Do you really think I'm an expert?"

A cloud of grass blades go flying into the air, followed by a flustered huffing of air. "Everyone says so!"

"And who's everyone, hm?" Wei Wuxian's smile turns sly, tilting his head as he continues to prod.

"All the junior disciples," Jiang Cheng says from over their heads, a long suffering sigh following his words.

When did he get here?

Wei Wuxian blinks again, slowly, taken aback as he processes what Jiang Cheng said. "What, all of them?"

"Yes." Jiang Cheng's sigh is long suffering, and Wei Wuxian wonders how many times he's heard some little Jiang disciple talking about Wei Wuxian in such a way.

"You're kidding." He shakes his head.

There's no way, right? Sure, people still use his inventions, and the people he's met seem to appreciate the talismans he leaves with them, but that in no way makes him an expert. He just does what makes sense. Anyone could do it.

 Surely, the Juniors realize that?

There's another sigh, then a grumbling, "I wish."

"That's—" He blinks, eyes strangely misty as he clears his throat. What did he do to deserve that? "Wow."

"It's not bad!" Lan Jingyi finally snaps, flustered.

"Maybe not for him . Do you know how annoying it is to hear about this idiot every time I have to find someone new to teach talisman theory?"

Lan Jingyi snorts. "No wonder. There's no way any of your teachers could compare. Senior Wei is the best."

"Mn." Lan Zhan hums his agreement from behind Wei Wuxian.

A smile steals across his face before he can stop it, tilting his head back as he murmurs, "Lan Zhan's here too? Is everyone here?"

"Sizhui is ahead. Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen are arguing further back." he hums, the heat from the sun refusing to hit Wei Wuxian's face despite the rays he's convinced are still playing over his cheeks.

Wei Wuxian nods in his direction with a grateful smile before turning back to Lan Jingyi. "Any other questions?"

"I think that's it? If I think of more, can I ask later?"

"Not like I could stop you," Wei Wuxian snorts, shaking his head with a broad grin. "But, yeah, I would love that."

"Wei Ying should teach," Lan Zhan says calmly, as though his words don’t cause  Wei Wuxian's heart to leap into his throat.

"What're you talking about? I do! On the night hunts, I help out all the baby disciples. You should see them Lan Zhan, they're like little ducklings." He squishes his hands together, closing one eye as he tries to show Lan Zhan just how small the disciples are and valiantly ignoring the offended squawk from Lan Jingyi.

"Mn." —Wei Wuxian wants to live in that rumbling amusement— "Teach a class at Cloud Recesses. "

He snorts, "Old Man Qiren would have a heart attack."

"So be it." Jiang Cheng grumbles from somewhere in front of him and Wei Wuxian stifles an ugly giggle.

The conversation tapers off from there, Wei Wuxian tilting his head back to look through where Lan Zhan's supposed to be to watch the clouds curl lazily overhead. Teach at Cloud Recesses, huh? Set down roots? Have somewhere to go back to? 

What a novel concept.

They start moving again when Lil' Apple lets out an aggrieved braying. And that's that. No more discussions about Wei Wuxian teaching classes. No more discussions in general really, at least not any that he notices.

It's around an hour later, spent under the unrelenting, blistering sun, that Wei Wuxian next speaks to Lan Zhan. He's been a little distracted, watching the road shift beneath his feet, keeping his eyes determinedly on Lil Apple's bobbing flank. Straining his ears, he can almost pick out the sound of everyone's footsteps, but the second he stops concentrating they all blend into one dull beat.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, voice steady with the movement of their steps.

Wei Wuxian jumps, turning towards him with a bright grin, "Lan Zhan! How long have you been standing there."

Silence stretches for so long that Wei Wuxian wonders whether he imagined Lan Zhan's voice. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"You're tired." So observant.

Wei Wuxian's never had someone who watches him so much in his life. Well, no, that's not exactly true. People watch him all the time. But no one really does it like Lan Zhan. No one else really looks at Wei Wuxian and lets their eyes linger long enough on his smile to tell when the corners get tight, when his ears ring and ring and ring from words that play on repeat in his nightmares.

"Aiya, only a little." He raises his palm in the air, making a so-so gesture as though that's at all convincing. "Don't worry about me!"

After a beat, Lan Zhan hums, strangely unimpressed. "Mn."

A couple of minutes pass and Wei Wuxian thinks that's the end of it. However, as soon as he resigns himself to the aching of his legs, the burning of his lungs, the sticky sweat dripping down his collar, Lan Sizhui’s voice rises above the noise around them.

"Hanguang-Jun, this one humbly requests that we take a short recess."

An affirmative hum is offered, something Wei Wuxian suspects is largely for his benefit as opposed to Lan Zhan actually feeling a need to verbally respond. The group gathers around, the space around Wei Wuxian filling with noise. 

Lans? Tired? Wei Wuxian calls bullshit .

"Lan Sizhui, tired?" Wei Wuxian puffs his cheeks out, titling his head to the side, "I thought you Lans only got tired between nine and five? Isn't there a rule against taking breaks?"

"Senior Wei," Lan Jingyi groans, a muffled plunk sounding as he presumably drops down onto the grass.

"Lan Zhan!" He calls, propping his hands on his hips as he turns in a wide circle. "Isn't there a rule against taking breaks?"

Someone snorts but he can't tell who.

"There's no rule," Lan Zhan answers, with the utmost sincerity.

Lan Jingyi pipes up soon after, "It's true Senior Wei, I've had to copy those rules so many times and I've never found a rule like that."

"They're still using that old punishment?" Wei Wuxian tilts his head back, wrinkling his nose.

"You know it?" Lan Jingyi asks, voice filled with bright curiosity.

"Well, I mean, that was Old Man Qiren's favorite punishment to dish out. Especially to me." He shivers, hand cramping just at the memory.

Ouyang Zizhen pipes up, voice practically vibrating with excitement, "I always forget you studied at Cloud Recesses."

"Ah, I wish I could forget." He tilts his head back into the shade. "Well, everything except meeting Lan Zhan. And Lan Yi. And the books were pretty useful actually. And—"

"We get it, you had fun." Jiang Cheng grumbles.

"Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng," he shakes his head, propping his hands on his hips as he scolds, "it's rude to interrupt."

"Senior Wei is right. It's one of the rules." Lan Sizhui chimes in helpfully.

Wow. He really is Wei Wuxian's kid, huh?

"I know your stupid rules. I studied there too." Ah, Wei Wuxian knows that tone.

"Is he pouting? I bet he's pouting." He shifts around, looking pointedly at where he last heard Lan Zhan speak, demanding, "Lan Zhan, is he pouting?"

"Mn."

"You're no fun." Wei Wuxian pouts, then turns his attention to where Lan Jingyi's voice last came from. "Lan Jingyi! Is he pouting?"

"Uh." Lan Jingyi hesitates, continuing with caution at the forefront of the voice, "I'm not sure I could say."

Jiang Cheng finally snaps.

“Wei Wuxian!" He thunders, refusing to suffer in silence any longer. 

"Ah, so he was pouting." Wei Wuxian nods wisely.

"Bastard!" Jiang Cheng roars.

Time to go, then.

See? Anyone who says Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a bone of self-preservation is obviously mistaken. 

"What's that?" He tilts his head to the side, cupping a hand around his ear. "I think Lil' Apple is calling me!"

With a flick of his ponytail over his shoulder, he bounds off, cackling.

Lil' Apple's grazing by the side of the road, pulling at stubborn weeds with single-minded focus. He clicks his tongue at the donkey as he approaches, the sun playing dappled spots over their flank. As the scraggly weeds reach and bend in the wind Wei Wuxian reaches out a hand, running it through Lil' Apple's mane distractedly.

He sighs to himself, casting his eyes towards the directions he just came from. Empty. Grass and dirt and low stone walls but not a hint of human life. Sunlight and dust and footprints but not a single person . 

"Ah." Turning back to Lil' Apple he drops into a crouch, cradling their head in his hands and looking into the soulful, dark eyes as he says, "At least I can still see you."

Lan Sizhui's voice sounds from over his shoulder, something terribly sad coloring it as he says, "Xian-gege."

Ah. So no one else is around then. Well, no one else except Lil' Apple, but Wei Wuxian is pretty sure that, at this point, Lil' Apple already knows all of the secrets of the cultivation world. The donkey can surely give even Nie Huaisang a run for his money.

"A-Yuan!" He exclaims, clapping his hands as he twists around to at least appear to be looking at Lan Sizhui.

Which is. Kind of pointless, he'll admit.

"You should sit down."

"Aiya, I'm not so fragile that a little walk could tire me out."

Lan Sizhui's silent for a moment, then he asks, "Then sit with me?"

"If you insist, who am I to refuse?" He shrugs, offering Lan Sizhui a conspiratorial smile. When did he get so clever?

He perches on the low stone wall, surface smoothed from years of weather beating against it. They’re sun warmed where he sits, the heat curling into his palms as he leans back against them; crawling into his bloodstream and making itself a comfortable, sleepy home there. Where they are, he can't hear anyone other than Lil' Apple, blades of grass crunching slightly in protest.

"Has the curse improved?" The loose dirt in between the rocks catches under Wei Wuxian's nails as he traces his fingers over the cracks.

"So serious!" He forces a light laugh, even as he shakes his head. "No, not yet."

There's a stagnant silence, and Wei Wuxian can practically see Lan Sizhui's brows knitting together, mouth pulling into a small frown as he says, "That's strange."

Wei Wuxian shrugs, poking the stick experimentally into the dirt. "No, not really."

Lan Sizhui hums from next to him, the sound considering. Then he's clicking his tongue, robes swishing around him as he starts, tone gentle and slow, as if the conversation is a freshly frozen lake and he doesn't know how much weight he can put onto it before it cracks beneath him.

"I think, maybe the reason you can't see us, when we're all being honest—" There's a moment of hesitation, then Lan Sizhui is audibly swallowing, presumably steeling his nerves as he continues "—is because you can't accept that we don't hate you."

Wei Wuxian jolts, feeling as though he's just been blindfolded, dropped in the middle of a desert, and then told to find water.

"What?” He rasps, shocked, as he tries to speak past the curious lump forming in his throat.

But Lan Sizhui doesn’t answer. 

What?

That—that can't be it. That's so simple. Besides, Wei Wuxian's not so pathetic that he can't accept something so trivial as other people's feelings. It's just—he doesn't think they really know what they're feeling. They have every reason to hate him. He just doesn't want it to be true.

But then he thinks of Lan Jingyi defensively declaring him the juniors' expert on talismans, thinks of Lan Sizhui gingerly leading him to the door, softly describing scenery and expressions with steadfast determination. Thinks of Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Zhan. There's no way he's correct, right? 

Of course, Wei Wuxian can accept they don't hate him. Who couldn't?

 Isn't that much easier to accept than the alternative?

Super easy.

 The easiest.

Shouldn't it be?

Lan Sizhui can't be right. 

Unhelpfully, Lil' Apple brays knowingly.

Useless donkey.

"Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan’s voice appears at his elbow.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian replies distractedly.

Even the dragonflies don't flutter a wing.

Lan Zhan lets the silence lie for a moment, before, tensions underlining his words, asking "Everything fine?"

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian chuckles, " A-Yuan just said something curious."

"Mn. Sizhui is intelligent."

"Yeah. He really is. Got that from you, hm?" If he could, Wei Wuxian would be leaning into Lan Zhan's side right now, grinning up at him.

Lan Zhan hums, adding easily, "And from Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian squeaks, dragging a hand over his face to hide a heated blush.

Wei Wuxian wonders how he can say things like that so easily. Wonders just what expression Lan Zhan is making. If he's reaching out, strong, graceful hands raised in an abortive motion to wrap reassuringly around Wei Wuxian's arm in a way that makes him weak at the knees. If the gold of his eyes has melted with an unfair crinkling at their corners, dark lashes fluttering as he gazes down at Wei Wuxian. If he'd reach up and brush his clever fingers over Wei Wuxian's cheek with all the soft devotionWei Wuxian is tricking himself into hearing.

Wei Wuxian wonders a lot of things about Lan Zhan.

Wonders at his lips quirking in the cold of Cloud Recesses with all the warmth of a blazing wildfire. Thinks on his hair falling down his back, swaying hypnotically with his every graceful step, inky waves on a still ocean. Wonders at his hands. Wonders until the wonder fills him up like he's an empty flask and Lan Zhan the galaxy, diluted and refined, to fill his confines.

Lan Zhan hums, sounding all too pleased with himself. "You're ready?"

"Yes, yes." Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes, shooing Lan Zhan with his hands. "Come on let's find somewhere to stay the night."

~

The town they wander into is quaint, with only a few small inns. Wide eyes track their movement, children pulling excitedly at the robes of parents as they point. Wei Wuxian supposes they must be quite a sight. three sect leaders, three junior disciples, and the once-Yiling Patriarch walk into town.; sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn't it?

Beyond the horizon, the sun sets sluggishly, shadows stretching long and empty from the houses.

They set up camp in one of the small inns in town, not the best according to the locals, but certainly not the worst. Cotton white adorns the wall, broken up by serene blue swirls and curling strands of smoke pressed into the wall, green as the bamboo swaying on the bank. Sparse, chipped wooden furniture spreads across the room languidly.

Wei Wuxian watches with bewilderment as the blankets are tugged from the bed, dragged slowly towards the middle of the room, and then deposited on the floor. What are they doing?

"Senior Wei! Move!" Lan Jingyi calls loudly from behind him and Wei Wuxian, mostly on autopilot at the point, slips further into the room and away from the doorway.

He watches as a procession of blankets marches past him, poorly gathered corners escaping to trail haphazardly along the floor. They're dumped into the middle of the room. Something flies past Wei Wuxian's head, a blur of pristine, cloudy white, and lands squarely in the middle of the blankets with a quiet whoosh of air. More objects go flying past, piling up until there's a mountain of pillows on top of the mound of blankets.

Wei Wuxian blinks at it, venturing slowly, “So we’re all just sleeping in here?”

“Why not? You have a problem with it?” Jiang Cheng grunts, probably crossing his arms and looking haughty.

“Uh. No." Wei Wuxian shrugs awkwardly, twisting his fingers over each other as he peers curiously at the pillows still being carted in. "Not really? But why?”

Jiang Cheng snorts derisively, “You think we’re letting you out of our sight? Don’t be an idiot.”

“Oh.” That certainly explained it. 

Wei Wuxian: flight risk. Can't be left alone.

 Obvious, really, if he thinks about it.

"Jiujiu!" Jin Ling cries before Wei Wuxian can fall further into his thoughts.

"What?" Jiang Cheng snaps back, sounding like a petulant child who was just told he couldn't have his favorite candy.

"You can't say it like that!" Jin Ling scolds.

"Why not? It's the truth."

"But you can't just say it like that! He's going to think we don't trust him." Ah.

Wei Wuxian appreciates the thought, really, but it's unnecessary.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as Jiang Cheng barks sharply, "Who doesn't trust him, I'll break your knee caps."

Something cracks open in Wei Wuxian's heart, something that's been frozen over ever since he got back and saw a sneer without a hint of warmth on Jiang Cheng's face. It thaws. 

The pair continue to bicker, dissolving into incoherent threats while the rest of the room shifts around them.

As Wei Wuxian places his bag delicately on the table, Jiang Cheng raises his voice, stating ""We'll be back. Don't do anything stupid."

"Jiang Cheng, I'm hurt. When have I ever done anything stupid?" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Jiang Cheng snorts and the Juniors (traitors, all of them) have the gall to chuckle. They troop out of the room, life trailing after them as the echoes of their laughs bounce off the walls. He strains his ears, listening all the way until their footsteps have faded down the staircase and the hallway outside is once again quiet.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan hesitates for a moment, probably looking imploringly at Wei Wuxian as he sorts his words out inside his mouth. "You'll be fine?"

Why would he ask that? Wei Wuxian's not actually injured, in case they all forgot. He doesn't need a babysitter. Especially not the illustrious Hanguang-Jun.

He doesn't need it. 

He doesn't need it.

"Aiya, of course!" He grins, wide and sloppy, tilting his head so far to the side that his ponytail swings behind his head with the force of it.

Lan Zhan is silent for a moment, the air heavy with a tension Wei Wuxian doesn't understand. Then he finally grunts a frustrated-sounding hum.

Wei Wuxian's lost. What does Lan Zhan have to be frustrated over? Maybe he thinks Wei Wuxian's going to try to run again? 

"You can go." When he doesn't hear Lan Zhan going for the door, he leans forward, affixing a reassuring smile to his face as he promises, "I won't leave. You don't have to worry."

Nothing happens.

Then, there's an almost imperceptible, reluctant rustling towards the door. It slides closed and Wei Wuxian is pretty sure that he's actually alone now.

Wei Wuxian curls up in the corner of the room, knees folded against his chest and papers spread in a chaotic spiral around him, like he was the origin point for the explosion of his bag. Humming, he sketches out an idea for a talisman he's been working on for a while—something that will help fresh plants last longer in the winter. It was inspired by a granny on the road, who had complained about her orchids dying early in the frost, gaze distant as she stared at the horizon.

Time passes like that, its only marker the cold bruises pressing into his knees and the ache of his back as he shifts slightly, every so often.

He's pretty sure he's almost got it figured out when he hears a pair of footsteps making their way into the room.

It had been difficult, when they were on the road, to pick out each distinct set of footsteps. Uneven ground muffled the sounds, stomping overlapping with the birds squawking in the trees and conversation flowing over the lightest of gaits. But now that they're in an inn, with wooden flooring, if Wei Wuxian lets his eyes flutter closed, he thinks he can reliably discern who's approaching him by their walk alone.

Light, fluttering steps approach, gentle as a summer breeze, meaning—"Sizhui?"

"Senior Wei's hearing is quite sharp." Lan Sizhui chuckles quietly as Wei Wuxian cocks his head to the side once more, a second set of footsteps, barely restrained excitement, slightly uneven, forced grace, approaches.

Wei Wuxian suppresses a smile, leaning back onto his hands lazily as he says, "And— Lan Jingyi, perhaps?"

The footsteps stutter.

"How the hell did you know?" he snaps, flabbergasted.

Instead of explaining, Wei Wuxian grins, shrugging as he carelessly comments, "Lucky guess."

 "Are you going to come down to dinner?"Lan Sizhui crouches next to him, the papers rustling in response.

"It's dinner time?" Is it?

Wei Wuxian hadn't even noticed.

Now that he thinks about it, he supposes he could eat. Especially if they have Ma Po Tofu. Oh, what Wei Wuxian would give for a bowl of Ma Po Tofu. 

Yeah, maybe he should eat then.

There's a pause, then Lan Jingyi is replying in a cautious, questioning tone, "You forgot?"

"Aha, I just got caught up." He waves a hand at the messy table in front of him, as though it'll explain everything. And, in a way, it does.

Silence reigns for a minute, a slight rustling of robes filling the space. Wei Wuxian can imagine them exchanging a glance, communicating so he can't hear, though he has no idea what he said that made them merit such caution.

Finally, Lan Sizhui let's out a tiny puff of air, Wei Wuxian's arm rising into the air at the same time.

There's a slight tug and an amused voice asks, thought it sounds more like a command, "Come down to dinner."

"Yeah!" Lan Jingyi is quick to agree. Wei Wuxian pictures his head nodding so fast that it blurs. "Sect Leader Jiang dyed your plate so red no one else can even touch it without getting burnt!"

Warmth suffuses through Wei Wuxian. "Did he?"

"And Huanguang-jun ordered you a jar of their finest fruit wine. You're not going to make that all go to waste, are you?" Lan Jingyi asks, accusingly.

Those damn dragonflies are back.

"Ah, Lan Zhan is so thoughtful. I wouldn't dream of wasting it." He clicks his tongue, clamoring to his feet as he picks his way around the cyclonic aftermath of notes and ink stones.

"Alright! Let's go!" He claps his hands and they're off.

They make it downstairs, conversation rising in the air like a heated, ever expanding balloon. A couple of tables, tucked comfortably closer to the wall, seem to be empty, save for the food decorating the table and the voices that sound excitedly from it. Well. That's probably them, then.

He settles himself down, responding to the casual greetings and letting himself become enveloped by the sounds of easy chattering. At least until they start eating, then it's quiet. That's when the problems start.

Wei Wuxian can't do this. Can't sit at a table and watch food hover and disappear as if he's having dinner party with ghosts. Can't sit in the middle of this silence.

Just can't do this.

He shovels the rest of the food into his mouth, barely tasting the flavors.

"I'm done," He declares, knowing full well how rude it is. A gaping pit poens in his gut even as he pushes his plate away from him and clambers to his feet.

"You didn't even finish!" Jiang Cheng points out, but something sounds off in his voice, in the strained notes behind it.

"I did!"  He gasps, affronted, pushing his empty bowl roughly towards Jiang Cheng.

Honestly, like he would waste good food when it's right in front  of him. He pushes back from the table, clamoring to his feet in a display he's sure is as unsteady as he feels, head spinning.

Lan Zhan speaks up, but maybe it doesn't count as breaking the rule because no one's eating anymore. "Let it rest."

"What?" Jiang Cheng snaps.

"Leave him be."

"You think you can-"

Wei Wuxian ducks up the stairs before he can hear the rest of the argument. A weariness tugs at his bones as he stumbles his way back to the room. He surveys the mess he walks in on, talisman paper scattered haphazardly and so very very empty.

He can't do this either. He just can't quite bear to be somewhere where he's alone. Again. 

Wei Wuxian sneaks down stairs, letting his feet guide him outside, until he's standing in the middle of the road, night sky twinkling over his head. He tilts his head up, narrowing his eyes until he thinks that if he leans forward far enough, he'll fall into the inky black and never pop back up for air. Would that really be so bad?

People sway past, features indistinct. Faces blur together, cheap replicas with superimposed expressions. Wei Wuxian wouldn't be able to identify them, should he pass them by again.

But he can't help but feel glad. Glad to see them and to know, if he were to reach out, he would feel their skin push back under his fingers.

Lan Sizhui said that Wei Wuxian is still cursed because he can't accept they don't hate him. But that's farfetched. Wei Wuxian might not have always been a realist, but he's been learning, steadily gathering and grouping up the stories and skills he needs to practice such a profession. As a realist, he's well aware that, just because the Lans don't lie, and Jiang Cheng has learned how to use pretty words, doesn't mean a thing, does it?

But— but they'd fetched him for dinner, hadn't they? And Lan Zhan had ordered him a jar of wine, the taste of which rolled over his tongue just the way he likes. Jiang Cheng has bags upon bags of spices tucked into his packs, even though he never drowned his meals in them. So was it really Wei Wuxian who's been misunderstanding them this whole time?

No. No, that can't be true. Stop it, Wei Wuxian, you need to keep your head.

“Senior Wei?” A young voice sounds to his right, tentative as it questions him, it's owner padding softly up next to him if the gentle swishing of robes is any indication.

He tamps down on the jump the approach tries to force out of him. Gods, he needs to pay more attention, doesn't he? He's not used to having to watch out for the people he lets his guard down around. Not like watching would do much, now.

“Ouyang Zizhen!" He directs a grin to the area at large, trying to force as many of the stars he saw above into its confines. "What can this Senior do for you?”

“Can I—“ he trails off, voice hesitant as a newborn deer on unsteady legs.

“Yeah?”A chilled breeze bustles down the street, stopping in front of Wei Wuxian to play teasingly with the ends of his hair before it carries on its merry way.

His words tumble out in a jumbled mess, “Can I braid your hair?”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Yeah, if you want to I don’t see why not?”

"Can we—can we go inside?" If Wei Wuxian could see him, he thinks the teen would be worrying his fingers around each other, looking askance.

"Oh." Suppressing a snort at the image of a cultivation sect's junior braiding the Yiling Patriarch's hair in the middle of the street, he nods. "Yeah, of course."

"Everyone's downstairs right now? So we could just, well, we could just sneak past them and go up to the room? If that's okay?"

That's right. Honestly, Wei Wuxian is a little shocked no one stopped him from wandering out initially. He lets his head fall back, basking in the chilled air hanging over them, eyes tracing the inn's facade. Where is it?

"Is the window open?" He questions while searching.

That's the easiest way to get in without being seen, isn't it?

Ouyang Zizhen stutters, "Pardon?"

"The room. Is the window open?" He shoots back distractedly.

Even if it's not, he could probably just bust it open. Don't even need cultivation for that. Just some good ol' fashioned blunt force trauma.

"I think so? Why?"

Ah. Got it.

"Let's just go up that way then." Wei Wuxian claps his hands together, closing an eye as he observes the distance from the ground to the window.

"Through the window?" Ouyang Zizhen squeaks in a flurry of panic. Wei Wuxian can feel it rolling off of him in waves. 

What's with that tone? He thinks despairingly. Back when he was the juniors' age he was breaking into places left and right. Climbing through windows, and jumping over rooftops. It's practically a right of passage? Someone needs to teach these kids the life skills they need to survive.

"That's what I said!" He laughs, a fiery blaze of noise.

Backing up a couple of steps, he sucks in a breath. Then, while Ouyang Zizhen is still dithering about something, races for the wall. He leaps, scrambling up and through the window in one practiced movement.

Shadows stoop through the window, covering the room in a gauze layer of obscurity. He hops down from the sill with feline grace, spinning as he lands to lean back out and look down at the seemingly empty street below.

"Senior Wei!" Ouyang Zizhen calls up, relief clear in his voice — ah, what a sweet kid.

He waves, laughing again as he yells down, "C'mon! It's easy! I'll make sure you don't fall, so don't worry."

Ouyang Zizhen hesitates. Honestly, Wei Wuxian wouldn't blame him if he wanted to go in through the door. It would be insane to expect him to trust someone who can't even see him, after all.

"Okay," He finally says, in a voice Wei Wuxian can barely hear.

Before Wei Wuxian can blink, there's thumping against the wall, a scratching at the window, and harsh breathing as the papers of the room fly into the air at the disturbance.

"Good job!" Wei Wuxian calls out, assuming that Ouyang Zizhen is the one who made it through the window and not some strange spirit of wind or something equally as absurd.

"That was—" Terrifying? Wei Wuxian hopes he hasn't scarred the kid too bad. "—exhilarating!"

Exhilarating? Well. He can work with that.

"What'd I tell you?" He bares his teeth, scrunching his eyes almost closed with the force of his grin. "Now! I distinctly remember someone mentioning... braiding?"

"Oh! Yes! Yes. Okay. Just —uh, sit at the table, I guess?"

Wei Wuxian nods, moving to settle in front of the table, leaning an elbow on it lazily as he props a cheek against his palm. Ouyang Zizhen doesn't complain about the position, so Wei Wuxian's going to go ahead and say that it's fine for braiding.

A moment later, phantom hands brush through his hair, the strands grazing against his neck as soon as they escape. They catch on the dust-clogged snarls he hasn’t had the energy to set angle, gently freeing the hairs from one another. The sensation of his hair moving through no power of his own, nor that of the wind, is yet another strange moment caused by the curse.

He hums, trying to stop himself from leaning into a touch as good as a spirit's. “Why the sudden interest in my hair?”

“Oh, it’s no big deal." The movement of his hair stills for a moment. "I just used to do this for my mom — and I guess I’ve missed it a lot lately.”

“Makes sense. I'm happy to be of service." His eyes close, a cat snoozing in the stretching rays of the moon.

Drowsiness washes over him in a wave, limbs feeling too heavy to move.

“Wait!” Ouyang Zizhen suddenly pseudo-shouts, voice squeaking with the force of it.

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian parrots in the same tone, mildly alarmed.

He resists the urge to turn around, especially when it wouldn’t do anything, when Ouyang Zizhen tugs harshly on a portion of hair. Is it just him, or are kids getting more and more confusing. He's sure he wasn't this confusing when he was a teenager.

“Just— it’s not just that— Senior Wei... also deserves someone to braid his hair for him.” Ouyang Zizhen mumbles, slowly maneuvering a piece of hair into place.

Slow enough that it feels a bit like an apology.

Wei Wuxian blinks in bewilderment. “Okay?”

“No! It’s—" An annoyed huff behind him— "you deserve nice things too.”

He snorts, lifting a shoulder, "Yeah, okay."

"No. You're not understanding me, Senior! You deserve to have a story with a happy ending written about you! You deserve the stories of your help in the war effort to be told with reverence instead of fear. Senior! You're not the villain! Not in our stories, at least. You're— you're the hero ." Ouyang Zizhen's voice, which gained volume towards the middle of the rant, tapers off into a whisper at the end, something deep and confiding lurking in his tone.

"Oh." He swallows the lump in his throat, eyes misty as he chuckles. "Always the romantic, huh?"

"Senior!" Ouyang Zizhen wails, but Wei Wuxian thinks he can hear a smile in his voice.

Nimble fingers tug the errant strands away from his nape, adeptly tucking them back behind his head in what Wei Wuxian assumes is an intricate interwoven mass.

“There! Perfect! Thank you, Senior!” Ouyang Zizhen ties off the braid with Wei Wuxian's scarlet ribbon.

From outside the door, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling's voices raise, arguing about who knows what. They barrel in, shattering the silence in their wake.

"Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Cheng snaps, fixing upon a new target.

"Yes?" Wei Wuxian replies innocently, flipping the braid over his shoulder to get a good look at it.

It's a little sloppy, but every strand is tucked and weaved with apparent care. If anything, it looks as though the braider used to be a master, but their skills have grown rusty over time.

Jiang Cheng stomps forwards. "What did you do?"

"Oh! " Wei Wuxian pushes it back over his shoulder gingerly. "Ouyang Zizhen braided it!"

"Idiot! " Jiang Cheng barks. Seriously, what is with Jiang Cheng’s  tendency to sound like one of those demon creatures? Does he do it on purpose? Wei Wuxian bets he does it on purpose. "The room! What happened to the floor!?"

Wei Wuxian blinks slowly, then turns his gaze back to the room. It looks fine to him.

"The mess," Jiang Cheng clarifies.

"Ah. Yes. I've got it." He snaps his fingers, then bounces around the room to kick at the scattered papers.

Supplies go flying into the corner, falling victim to Wei Wuxian's impatient pushing. The braid swishes, heavy behind him. He tilts his head experimentally, a wide grin spreading across his face as the braid swings fast as a pendulum.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan's voice, strangely pitched, says from directly behind him.

“Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian whips around, braid flying behind him, and grins at the empty air. "Surprised?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan sounds decidedly not surprised when he answers, voice back to an even, steady stone wall.

“So how about it Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian spins around, braid whipping behind him, blinking coquettishly as he asks, "Do I look pretty?”

Lan Zhan hums once more, tone indulgent, “Wei Ying is always the prettiest.”

Oh .

“Lan Zhan! You can’t just say that!” Wei Wuxian squeaks, burying his burning face in his hands, sternum engulfed in a million heated dragonflies, trailing molten footprints across his clavicle.

"Mn." Is it just Wei Wuxian, or does Lan Zhan sound smug ?

"I also like your braid, Senior," Lan SIzhui says from the door.

"Stop that." Wei Wuxian's cheeks are on fire as he pulls the braid back over his shoulder, toying with the ends of it. "Why'd you all come up here at the same time?"

"It's nine." Lan Sizhui says.

He raises an eyebrow, nodding knowingly. "Ah. I see. Bedtime, then?"

Bemusedly, Wei Wuxian lets them vocally herd him to the middle of the pillow fort, reclining slowly. He makes it all the way to resting his head on a plush pillow before he realizes what's wrong with the picture.

"Are we all following the Lan bedtime?" He bolts upright. "Wait— does this mean I have to get up at five too?"

“Just sleep, Senior Wei!” Lan Jingyi scolds.

"Ah, but I can't! It's too early!" He tries to push all the way up but an invisible force prevents him.

It's Lan Zhan who speaks up, gentle as the sway of bamboo in a summer breeze. “Wei Ying, sleep. We’re here.”

Lan Sizhui said that maybe the truth isn't the limiting factor here; that it’s Wei Wuxian's own inability to accept it. So he's going to trust what he knows Lan Zhan is so good at not saying, going to trust that he's hearing him right, that he's deciphering the soft, warm tones that have seeped into his otherwise unaffected voice.

We're here , he'd said, and Wei Wuxian had heard him loud and clear.

We’re here. We’re safe. We’re staying. You don’t have to worry anymore. We’re not going anywhere.

So you can rest.

Rest.

He doesn't mean to, but his eyes flutter shut, the weight behind them growing too heavy to resist. Usually, it takes him hours to fall asleep, tossing and turning and, more often than not, drowning his memories in delicate, fruit-scented wine. Yet tonight, with the air heavy from sleep hanging low around his head like a tranquil cloud bank, and the knowledge that he's not alone, sleep comes fast as a summer storm.

Wei Wuxian's sure he doesn't deserve it… but it would be really delightful if everyone is telling the truth.

Chapter Text

Warm—it’s warm.

The first thing Wei Wuxian notices when he wakes up, is how warm it is. 

Blinking into consciousness, he feels a bit like a caterpillar cocooned in a chrysalis of heat.  

There’s a heated band locked around one of his arms, hugging it tightly to what feels like a chest. His other hand is taken hostage by sweaty fingers, grip harsh enough to cut off his circulation.

His eyelids flutter half-heartedly before he decides that’s too much trouble. 

The Juniors, along with Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng, have insisted on big group sleepovers at every inn they stay at, heedless to the other patrons watching them curiously. 

Wei Wuxian is getting used to it. 

After three consecutive nights of being bullied into sleeping in a den of pillows and blankets on the floor, it would be hard not to. But he's still not one hundred percent sure he understands why it's happening.

Blunt nails scratch slowly against his scalp, smoothing his bangs back from his face with more care than Wei Wuxian thinks he deserves. The phantom touch lingers for a moment, brushing lightly over the line on his neck and Wei Wuxian suppresses a shiver at the foreign sensation. The hand retreats, and the gentle swoosh of straightening robes follows  after it.

Wei Wuxian wants to move, he’s pretty sure, but he can’t make his limbs respond. 

The more he concentrates on it, the more he realizes that the looseness of his limbs, (like he's floating in the middle of a hot spring with flower buds swirling away from him, releasing saccharine sweetness into the air,) isn't something he wants to leave. Floating forever sounds indescribably tempting.

Words have historically been his iron shield. 

He knows how to weaponize the syllables as they drift through his mouth, building them into a sturdy, unreachable wall. Hiding behind elaborately constructed sentences and a varied vernacular to get his point across or to avoid doing so. Needless to say, if someone were to ask him to, he'd be able to offer any number of descriptive words, sentences flowing and lyrical.

But, at this moment, the only word he can think of is ‘nice’. 

Still, no one knows better than he that all good things must come to an end. He shifts, and the limbs draped over him recede. Strange. No longer restrained, he rolls to his feet, clearly getting ready for the day.

They set out from the inn soon after, deciding to spend the morning trekking gradually through the city. At the Juniors’ insistence, time will be taken to visit stalls, play merry, slow down. 

Wei Wuxian's pretty sure there are some ulterior motives at play here. But he's been trying to keep an open mind these past few days.

Maybe he's succeeding, considering the curse seems to have receded a bit.

He waits for someone to bring it up. For the hands holding his own to pat his arm expectantly as voices echo and ask him how long it will be till he can see them again.

No one does.

A voice in his head insists that it's not their job to know.

That they wouldn't know anyways. That Wei Wuxian should tell them.

 But Wei Wuxian has never been first on his own list of priorities and he certainly doesn't expect to be first on anyone else's. So he'll twiddle his thumbs, sit quietly and pretend not to miss the weight that slips away every time he raises his hands.

So he waits for someone to bring it up.

He waits and waits and waits. 

But it never comes.

Instead, he comes to a couple of realizations.

Number one: someone is always touching him.

Always .

There hasn't been a moment without a hand holding his own or wrapped around his arm, or resting against his shoulder or a leg pressed against his own. Jin Ling in particular clings to him with warm, damp hands, barely straying for more than fifteen minutes though he's quieter than Wei Wuxian has come to expect from him.  Lan Zhan taps gentle fingers against his lower back any time Wei Wuxian so much as tilts.

The Juniors must have come up with some kind of rotation, as around every thirty minutes, the warmth around his arm, pressure against his hand, disappears, only to be replaced by a slightly lighter one. Be it Lan Jingyi's cold, dry hands, blunted nails digging into his skin as his grip tightens to stop Wei Wuxian from tripping; or Lan Sizhui's almost burning grip, slipping into his hand and squeezing. Even Ouyang Zizhen's sweaty, childlike fingers make quite a few appearances, curling too tight around his own.

When he moves too fast, lifting his hands to reach for something or gesture, the hands holding his own slip silently away. Quietly, holds are adjusted around his movements, even as they reply aloud.

Which brings him to point two.

Number two: if they haven't brought up the fact that he can feel them, if they continue to let him go when he moves as though adjusting for what he can't feel, does that mean they don't know?

And if they don't know, then does that mean they've been doing this the whole time? Has Wei Wuxian been walking around with gentle hands intertwined with his own? With clumsy fingers smoothing out the kinks in the shoulders of his robes and adjusting the ribbon in his hair oh-so-carefully?

How long have they been doing this?

What's the point if he can't feel them?

"Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan sounds alarmed, heat from his hands hovering over Wei Wuxian's shoulders, but not quite touching. Not yet.

It comes out choked, muffled like it's traveled through layers and layers of blankets to make its way out. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Hands lower onto his shoulders, soothing Sandalwood surrounding him.

He tilts his head, pushing up slightly onto his toes so he fills in the curled palms as best he can. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Senior Wei, you're crying."

"I—" He reaches up to his cheeks, prodding curious fingers at them and, sure enough, they're wet. "—what?"

Ah.

When did he start crying?

"What's wrong?" Lan Sizhui asks, voice taut with worry.

Now that he's paying attention to it, he can feel the dampness of his cheeks. Feel the burning press behind his eyes.

"Did someone say something? I'll break their legs," Jiang Cheng threatens from somewhere to his right, air crackling with static electricity.

"No. No, I'm fine ." He licks his lips, salt dancing across his tongue.

"Wei Ying."

"No, really. Lan Zhan, I'm fine ." He shakes his head, brows furrowing.

"Why are you crying?" Jin Ling asks, voice squeaking with worry. 

Why is he crying?

He was just thinking about—

Well, that doesn’t matter. Regardless, it’s nothing to cry over. 

"I just— I guess I didn't realize—" He reaches up to his cheeks, cutting himself off with a sharp intake of breath. 

"Yes?" Lan Zhan prompts.

Wei Wuxian’s chuckles come out strangled, wet as the first rain of spring. "I can feel you. I just didn't realize—"

"You can feel us again?" Jiang Cheng interrupts.

"Senior Wei!" One of the Juniors cry out, or maybe it’s all of them, Wei Wuxian can’t tell. 

It doesn’t matter because, not a moment later, there’s the sound of four pairs of galloping footsteps. It’s the only warning Wei Wuxian gets before he’s tackled to the ground, arms looping around his back as they somehow all end up sprawled in the dirt.

Arms curl around him, poking against his ribs as Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi snipe back and forth. Someone gets pushed, a knee ending up dangerously close to his diaphragm that punches the breath out of Wei Wuxian's lungs. He splutters, trying in part to reestablish his airflow, and in part to push the suffocating warmth out of his chest.

It's too much. The space between his ribs is painstakingly filling with layer upon layer of contentment, affection piling over itself. It hurts. 

 He doesn't know what to do with all of it, is out of practice at holding anything like it and it feels as though water is being poured into a cracked vessel. Unwieldy. Overwhelming.

Barely a second later, they're scrambling up and off of him, apologizing profusely for knocking him to the ground, and leaving him sprawled dumbfounded on the dirt. Strangely enough, no one helps him up. Which, taking the past couple of days into account, really is strange . Unless—

No.

No, Wei Wuxian said he wouldn't think like that anymore.

No. He said he'd try, really try , to believe them.

And he's been succeeding, hasn't he? So, he won't let himself fall back into those thoughts so easily, even if it is strange that they left him lying prone on the floor. It’s really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. 

He shakes his head, starting to push himself to his feet by himself.

A  quiet, punched out breath spills from Lan Zhan's lips, "Wei Ying."

Graceful, calloused fingers wrap around his forearms, gently (so gently) lifting Wei Wuxian to stand on his feet, keeping a hand wrapped gingerly around his bicep as he regains his balance. A soft thumb brushes over his cheek, catching the remnants of tears and coming to rest delicately against his cheekbone. Wei Wuxian pushes against the hand, reveling in the fact that he can feel it again.

Wei Wuxian wishes desperately that he could see Lan Zhan’s face. Wishes that he could cradle his cheeks between his crooked, clever fingers and look and look and look. Wishes so ardently that it knocks the breath from his lungs.

Fingers brush over the puckered, scarred skin encircling his neck, so unbearably gentle that Wei Wuxian thinks he might shatter.

Lan Zhan makes waves surge in Wei Wuxian.

"Lan Zhan," he replies, just as quiet, and it sounds a bit like a confession and an apology all rolled into one.

It's silent, but the heat of trembling fingers resting against his neck screams .

~

Somehow, the Juniors spirit him away from Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan before either can protest. They drag him over to a honey-cake stand, the stall-keeper baring their teeth fiercely as the Juniors crow about their product.

Wei Wuxian considers the honey-cakes; advertised to be from all corners of the world. Made with peach blossom honey, with rose and camellia and any other number of flowers, from a humble shrub to a mighty tree. The merchant promises they'll be the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

He's not one for sweetness, an arbitrarily weak flavor profile doing nothing to mask rot, but Lan Zhan is.

Wei Wuxian buys six.

Lan Sizhui escorts him away after, before he can be enticed into buying a seventh. 

They wander around the stands for a while, market-goers barely paying them a second glance. Wei Wuxian supposes to them it doesn't look so strange. They can see the juniors, after all. To them, Wei Wuxian's talking to more than just air and phantom limbs.

Or maybe it does look strange, and they're just polite enough to look the other way.

There's a thump in front of him, dust rising indignantly into the air as something lands on their path. By virtue of him not being able to see it, and Jin Ling’s cackling, Wei Wuxian assumes that it's probably Lan Jingyi.

"Shut up!"

Definitely Lan Jingyi then.

Wei Wuxian crouches next to where he thinks the teen is splayed, holding out a hand with a raised eyebrow. Fingers slip into his own, and Wei Wuxian tightens his grip resolutely, unwilling to lose him in the crowd as he rises to his feet. 

"No fair!" Jin Ling suddenly shouts, dust clouds puffing into the air as he stomps over to them. "It's not his turn!"

"Ah—" Wei Wuxian chokes back a laugh "—so you are taking turns then?"

Jin Ling sputters, voice petulant and robes swishing as Wei Wuxian imagines he crosses his arms. "No! Who'd want to take turns holding your hand?"

"Don't mind him, Senior Wei, the Young Mistress is just jealous." Lan Jingyi tuts, a smug laugh peeking out of the depths of his voice.

"I am not!" Jin Ling snaps back.

"No? Then—"

Wei Wuxian interrupts before it can devolve into senseless bickering. Or, dissolve further he supposes. "Enough, enough. I have two hands, don't I?"

"But— Senior Wei." The pout is audible in his nephew's voice.

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to respond but is distracted by the crooning strains of a dizi, lacing carefully through the air. Underneath it's cautious tones ventures the delicate strains of an Erhu. The song, lovely as it is, sounds incomplete, but Wei Wuxian can't help the way his feet slow, head cocking to the side to let the sounds collect in his ears.

He turns distractedly, tugging slightly on the hand still protectively curled around Lan Jingyi's. 

His eyes alight on people dancing in the middle of the street, twirling, loose robes and laughter trailing after them like smoke. Children squeal, weaving between the legs of blushing teens and sappy parents. An elderly couple sways in place on the fringes, making something fierce and fiery ache in Wei Wuxian's chest. He watches with wide eyes, fingers itching to reach out.

Instead, he tightens his grip on the hands of Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling, tugging them behind him as he charges towards the music. Jin Ling cries out in annoyance, but Wei Wuxian ignores it, planting them right in the center of the dancers.

"Make a circle!" he commands, playful smile sliding onto his lips like a well-worn, travel-weary friend

"Why?" Lan Jingyi questions, alarm painted into his voice as a squeaking child ducks past them.

"Aiya, don't question your senior." He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to let the dulcet tones of the dizi pool in his ears.

"We're in a circle, Senior Wei," Lan Sizhui says, curiosity hidden under the pleasantry of his voice.

"Good!" And with that Wei Wuxian starts to spin them, skipping in a shifting circle.

Jin Ling protests, Lan Jingyi shushing him while Ouyang Zizhen lets out a startled, chirping giggle. Lan Sizhui's hand, tucked into his own, tightens its grip. He spins them in a circle, tilting his head back as they speed up with the tempo.

Then he lets go.

He tilts his head back, shutting his eyes tight enough that shapes appear behind his eyelids. With his arms spread at his side he starts to spin.

Wei Wuxian spins and the world stills around him. He spins. He spins. He spins.

And then he stops.

Not of his own volition. He crashes against something solid. His feet tangle underneath him, and he pitches towards the ground, his eyes snapping open in panic but, before he can either meet his untimely demise through dirt road or make an impressive recovery, hands catch his waist, stopping his descent.

"Aha, sorry, sorry," he starts to apologize before he's even back on his feet, making to turn to properly thank his savior.

The hands on his waist tighten slightly.

A painfully familiar voice replies, "No need."

Wei Wuxian ceases his efforts to escape the hold immediately. He shifts around in them, turning to face Lan Zhan with the hands still firmly in place.

Distantly, he wonders if this position looks weird to anyone passing by.

Hands rest on his waist and he can feel them, sure, but his eyes try to trick him into believing he’s pressed against the wind. Even if he was cradled by air, would anyone say anything? Or are they too preoccupied with their own destinations to pay any attention to his stopping. 

He shakes his head, donning a bright smile and directing it at where he’s reasonably sure Lan Zhan’s head is.

"Lan Zhan!" Would it be in poor taste to say that he didn't see him there?

"Wei Ying." —Holy fuck, the hands dwarf his waist. Lan Zhan's hands cover his entire waist—"Dance with me?"

He blinks slowly, tilting his head to the side as he tries to make sense of the words. "Dance...with...you?"

"Yes."

"I mean — ah, yes. Yes. Of course, aha." A nervous chuckle bubbles from him, filled with pitching corners. 

A hand leaves his waist, tracing down his ham to intertwine graceful fingers with his own.

Lan Zhan's hands, calloused though his fingertips may be, are so soft that it makes dragonfly wings beat frantically in place of Wei Wuxian's heart. The skin is smooth, where Wei Wuxian drags his own (rough, work-hewn, scarred ) fingers over it. No still healing scabs, no burns, no dry skin rough as the road beneath their feet. He brushes his thumb over the back of Lan Zhan's hand, marveling at the steady, even heat that radiates from it. Marvels at the gentle squeeze Lan Zhan gives his fingers in response to the movement.

The dragonflies spread their delicate wings to his lungs, making his breath trip clumsily in his throat.

Enamored. Wei Wuxian thinks he's enamored.

They sway in place, letting the gentle thrumming of the music flow through them. The tune twists around them,, too fast for their honey-hampered steps, Lan Zhan carefully moving his hand up to cradle the side of Wei Wuxian's face. He pushes his cheek into it, letting his eyes flutter close. Lan Zhan pulls him closer with delicately insistent tugging on his waist, until Wei Wuxian can rest his ear against Lan Zhan's chest. Until there's no part of him that isn't warmed by Lan Zhan and the fact that he can feel him.

He lets himself sink into the waves of childlike wonder lapping at his ribs. Lets it submerge him completely, closing over his head, and, for once, he doesn't feel like he's drowning. The dragonflies in his chest twirl, flapping their wings in time with the lazy, meandering beat. Lan Zhan's heart runs like a rabbit, even as he twirls them in slow, sweeping arcs around the square. 

Something in Wei Wuxian screams that he shouldn't have this. That he's not really proven anything, done anything, been anyone, that deserves this moment. But that part of him that's usually so loud falls silent under the steady beats of Lan Zhan's heart. And even Wei Wuxian can't argue with Lan Zhan's heart.

They spin, slow enough that the circle their feet make in the dust is clumsy and ovular, and Wei Wuxian can't help but tilt his head back and laugh. The sound springs from him, loud and exuberant and rusty as a broken hinge. It's an ugly, squeaking thing, but it's there. And it's out in the open. It lifts him up, making his feet light as a spirit dancing on a lily pad. Wraps careful arms around his waist, traces lotus and pork rib soup over his tongue.

Ah.

So that's what this feeling is.

Lan Zhan lets out an amused huff above his head, the hot puff of air stirring strands of hair from his face.

Fuck. Wei Wuxian kind of wants to cry again.

Instead, he lets the laugh continue to bubble from him until he's breathless from it, cheeks red and chest heaving. They spin to a stop, Wei Wuxian grinning wide and sloppy. Lan Zhan — Well, Wei Wuxian can't see him yet, but there's a thumb tracing the edges of his smile with something Wei Wuxian wants to call reverence and that tells him all he needs to know, doesn't it?

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Shameless, the Great Hanguang-Jun, dancing in the middle of the street. What will people say?" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. 

"Does it matter?"

Wei Wuxian snorts, burying his head against Lan Zhan's chest. Lan Zhan rocks them gently in place, back and forth, back and forth, smooth as the waves lapping at the shore.

What would it be like, to stay here forever?

~

Forever turns out to last only ten minutes.

It's simultaneously too much and too little, leaving Wei Wuxian grasping for something that he knows will burn.

Strangely enough, Lan Zhan seems hesitant to end forever as well.

Sadly, they have a schedule to keep. Apparently. The music ends, Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan swaying in place after for just a second too long. Then Jiang Cheng is appearing, his brusque words tripping their feet away from one another.

They start back on the road, Lil' Apple braying obnoxiously and chattering filling the air, soft as the rubbing of a cicada’s wings

Ouyang Zizhen's hand slips from his own and, for the first time today, it's not replaced immediately.

It takes a full two and a half minutes for someone else to pick up his grasp.

Finally, a clammy hand slips into his own, squeezing roughly, so tight it borders on painful. Wei Wuxian suppresses a smile.

He recognizes the grip. Recognizes it from days running around Lotus Pier, dragging Jiang Cheng behind him with exuberant laughter and limitless plans for mischief. Recognizes it from when he had nightmares, back when he first arrived at Lotus Pier, and Jiang Cheng had grumbled at him all night but had never loosened his grip.

The fingers may be bigger, the palm rougher, but it's the same hand.

Sure enough, Jiang Cheng's voice is grumbling out, harsh tone tempered by the almost desperate squeezing of Wei Wuxian's fingers, "Took you long enough, idiot. Do that again and I break your legs."

Wei Wuxian has been described many ways, but he thinks the most accurate is that he's reckless; that he's genius. Doomed forever to live a paradox. It may be a fate particular to the children of Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng certainly seems to try to live up to it.

Harsh but fragile.

Loud but searching.

Strong but hesitant.

But Jiang Cheng’s never been a real paradox.

Not to Wei Wuxian.

"Of course." He says, biting down on a grin.

"I'm serious," Jiang Cheng continues as if Wei Wuxian had never spoken in the first place. As if Jiang Cheng hasn't already triumphed. "You do it again and you can't come back home."

Wei Wuxian doesn't freeze, but it's a close thing.

"Ah well—" C'mon Wei Wuxian, get it together. You can feel him, can't you? That has to mean something. "—I won't do it again then."

Really ?

That's the best you could come up with?

"Good." Jiang Chneg's chilled fingertips tighten minutely, blunted fingernails pressing crescents into the back of Wei Wuxian's hand, so Wei Wuxian stays silent. Waiting.  "Come home. When you're ready. The gates will be open for you."

Wei Wuxian sucks in a sharp breath, the air catching embarrassingly on the way in. "Jiang Cheng—"

"So, don't just forget again. You have no excuse. Got it?" The tight, burning ache inside of Wei Wuxian's chest eases.

"Yeah. Okay." A fragile breath leaves Wei Wuxian's lips and it tastes a little like Lotus pods in summer.

Jiang Cheng squeezes his hand once more, too harshly, but Wei Wuxian wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

He's still not one hundred percent convinced that he's worthy of  this. Any of this. Yet, Wei Wuxian knows that people are foolish in who they bestow their affections upon, better than anyone.

If they change their minds in the morning, now that the curse is starting to recede, Wei Wuxian doesn't quite know what he'll do. Shatter, maybe. Wander deep into the woods and lie down for long enough that he figures out how to make a living body decay. He could probably figure out how to disappear.

But .

But, hopefully (and it really is hope this time, isn't it?), he won't have to.

Chapter Text

It may seem obvious, but Wei Wuxian has never really given express thought to the idea that being alone isn't the same thing as being lonely.

Being alone is a choice, more often than not. And Wei Wuxian had chosen it without fail— has chosen it without fail— because sometimes it's better to choose to be alone than to be the one people choose to leave.

Loneliness is something different. It's sitting in a cave, arms curled around your knees and nightmares haunting you even when you refuse to sleep. It's waiting for someone to appear in the muted mouth of the cave and ask you to come to dinner and them never coming. It's waiting so long that moths bite at your clothes, moss creeps up your legs, and your joints grow over with gnarled roots.

Wei Wuxian's been moving so fast that he thought he didn't have time to be lonely. He's been bouncing from town to town, case to case. It's not running. It's not fleeing. But it's something close. Some sort of conviction, deep down, that if he slows down, if he lets others catch up, then they'd leave him in the dust.

It's one of the facts of life. The sky is blue. Dogs are bastards. Wei Wuxian shouldn't— can't —slow down.

And that had made sense.

Then this curse happened, and all his preconceived notions were forced to shatter.

He'd slowed down. Slowed so far that his mind felt like it was taking a leisurely walk instead of racing ahead at breakneck speeds. Slowed so far that the people around him were able to keep up, able to circle around him with bright laughs and gentle touches and words too kind for him.

The shocking thing is, since he first felt the lazy arms slung around him as he woke two days ago, no one's tried to leave.

Now, they're almost to Cloud Recesses. 

They walk along the river, boats floating lazily past them.The Juniors ran off a while back, apparently to go check out some stall, (if their hurried explanations were correct) so Wei Wuxian's hands are suspiciously free. But he's content. Content to lean back, let the sunbeams warm his face and the warm familiarity of Caiyi Town sink into his bones.

Wind brushes past him, and he turns his head towards the source. There's a transparent white sleeve, trailing as whatever—whoever— it was continues on their merry dart forward. Furrowing his brows, Wei Wuxian turns to peer ahead of him, eyes following the hints left by Lan Zhan's quiet humming. Silky black hair sways into his view. Into his view.

Into his—

He blinks, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the floating, see-through somethings in front of him don't disappear. If anything, as Jin Ling snaps back at a comment made by Lan Jingyi, they start to solidify.

He narrows his eyes, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Purple flicks into his view, Jiang Cheng's voice floating with the abstract form. He watches in quiet awe as the blob slowly gains shape, details sharpening like an artist drawing lines with the lightest of touches over bleeding colored inks. Jiang Cheng's edges slowly gain shape.

Wei Wuxian glances to the side, and can see Lan Zhan bending slightly to listen to something Ouyang Zizhen is saying.

Ouyang Zizhen nods carefully, then darts off to join where the rest of the Juniors have gathered, leaving Lan Zhan standing relatively alone (Wei Wuxian is well aware that Jiang Cheng does not count in Lan Zhan's head as 'company'). His hands hang loosely at his side, head tilted to gaze up at the clouds gathering in the sky.

His fingers curl in towards his empty palm. Wei Wuxian watches the movement devoutly.

Target acquired.

Wei Wuxian darts forward,  keeping his eyes locked solely on Lan Zhan's still hand. In one fell swoop, he slips his hand snugly into Lan Zhan's own. 

Mission success.

Lan Zhan turns to him so quickly, Wei Wuxian's surprised he doesn't hear a crack. His ( lovely , so lovely, Wei Wuxian's so glad he can see them again) golden eyes widen slightly, lashes fluttering as his mouth falls open in a tiny 'oh'. Wei Wuxian doesn't think he's ever seen anything quite so beautiful.

"You can see us?" Lan Zhan asks, Wei Wuxian watching his mouth form the words with a scholarly dedication.

His eyes flick back up to Lan Zhan's and he answers with a triumphant nod, exclaiming happily, "You look like ghosts!"

Jiang Cheng bustles into his sight line, brows furrowed as he mouths the words Wei Wuxian just said. Then his eyes widened.

Wei Wuxian leans his head back, a laugh spilling from his chest with so much force that he can't bite it back. Not quite as rusty sounding as when he was back in the square, cradled against Lan Zhan's chest, it pours from him in roaring waves.

It peters out eventually, Wei Wuxian's eyes watering from the force of it. Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng stare at him. Jiang Cheng's brows are furrowed, but his mouth is slack, eyes still wide and Wei Wuxian is just so glad that he can see it again. That he can see Jiang Cheng's cheeks puffing out in a grumpy pout as he seems to regain control of his facial expressions. That he can see Lan Zhan's eyes, still slightly widened, and glimmering with a light Wei Wuxian wants to refine and place into a jar and take out when he's feeling low.

"Love Wei Ying's laugh," Lan Zhan suddenly says and Wei Wuxian wonders if the reason he waited till now to say it is because he somehow knows that it releases a swarm of dragonflies through his heart cavities. Wonders if he knows how hard it makes it to breathe. Wonders if he knows how much he makes Wei Wuxian wonder.

"I guess it's not the worst to hear it again," Jiang Cheng grumbles, but there's a gentle light in his eyes Wei Wuxian hasn't seen for—well, he can't quite remember actually.

Well, there's really nothing Wei Wuxian can do in response to that other than laugh again. He stumbles towards them, tripping as he throws himself into their arms.

Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng tolerate being close to each other while he squeezes one of his arms around each of them, and that says more to Wei Wuxian than he could ever articulate.

He pulls himself away from them, holding onto their arms and letting his eyes rake over them, taking in the fact that he can see them, see them, see them. They don't shift away. Don't curl their lips up and say 'well, now that that's settled you should go on your way', and Wei Wuxian isn't surprised—he's not surprised .

"Senior Wei?" Lan Sizhui asks from behind him and Wei Wuxian spins around.

He meets Lan Sizhui's worried gaze and can see the realization creep into his eyes. Lan Sizhui turns swiftly to Lan Jingyi, who's been watching the entire interaction with narrowed eyes. They do that weird telepathic communication thing —Wei Wuxian should really ask if it's because of a talisman— and then Lan Jingyi is turning to him with wide eyes eerily reminiscent of Jiang Cheng's.  

The process repeats with Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen when they come over to join the group.

It's Ouyang Zizhen who fractures the shocked silence, a wide, bright smile spreading across his face, eyes crinkling from the force of it as he says, "We missed you!"

"I was right here!" Wei Wuxian crows, grinning, big and syrupy, sticky where it clings to his cheeks, as he spreads his arms at his sides.

Ouyang Zizhen lets out a suspicious sniffle, eyes glistening and even Jin Ling doesn't seem to have a snappy comment to offer. Lan Sizhui stumbles forward, the rest of the Juniors following in his footsteps to surround Wei Wuxian.

"Next night hunt," Lan Sizhui lays a gentle hand on Wei Wuxian's arm, widening his eyes in weaponized pleading, "you'll tell us if something like this happens again. Right?"

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. "Silly kids, who do you take your senior for?"

"You will, right? Promise?" Lan Sizhui prods, voice and face (face!) gentle.

"Aiya, yes, yes. I promise. Happy?"

"Yes." And the kicker is, they really seem to be.

They mill around for a little bit, Wei Wuxian taking each of the Juniors by an arm and scanning them over from head to toe, searing their shifting expressions into his mind. Ouyang Zizhen's cheeks turn suspiciously red when he does so, though Wei Wuxian has no idea why.

Eventually, once he's drunk in the fill of his family—family? Oh. That's—they really are, aren't they?

Once he's drunk in his fill of his family they resume their journey to Cloud Recesses.

Lan Zhan turns to Lan Sizhui from where they're talking up ahead. Lan Sizhui nods seriously, turning to call out to the rest of the Juniors who are still gathered around Wei Wuxian like overexcited ducklings. They scurry to catch up to him, Jiang Cheng following to continue his berating of Jin Ling for who knows what.

Up ahead, Lan Zhan slows his walk. He almost stops, shifting partially to face Wei Wuxian, sunlight slanting lazily across his face. Wei Wuxian almost stumbles at the sight.

Lan Zhan.

His gaze shifts over to Wei Wuxian, still only half facing him. Lan Zhan looks like a deity, Wei Wuxian can't help but think. Too good for these hapless mortals, to good for—no. Concentrate on Lan Zhan. A deity waiting quietly, with cold, golden gaze never straying far from Wei Wuxian's face.

He catches up to him, a joke already building on his tongue, but is distracted by Lan Zhan's translucent hands raising to gently cup Wei Wuxian's cheeks. They trace down his shoulders, linger on his wrists where his pulse is pounding so hard Wei Wuxian's sure Lan Zhan can hear it, can feel it. They end on his hands, fingers curling around his own. 

Over the last couple of days, they've done this. Multiple times. So it’s nothing new, this hand holding.

Even  earlier today, when Wei Wuxian's eyes had found Lan Zhan for the first time in weeks, his first thought had been to grab his hand. And yet, there's something a lot more intimate about this. About being able to see Lan Zhan's golden eyes flickering like the flame of a candle, to see the corners of his mouth soften.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan starts, as though he needs to get Wei Wuxian's attention, as though all of Wei Wuxian's being isn't concentrated on Lan Zhan, "I want you to stay. Don't want you to ever leave alone."

The breath stutters in Wei Wuxian's lungs, his blood roaring in his ears as those fucking dragonflies start to wake up, beating their wings as fast as they can.

"Want to be by your side. Forever. For as long as Wei Ying will have me." As if there’s a difference between the two. 

Wei Wuxian worries, for a second, that they’re standing in the middle of the street, in plain view of anyone and everyone. But Lan Zhan said what did it matter, and Wei Wuxian can't help but agree as Lan Zhan solidifies in front of him, surroundings fading into the background until all he can see is Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.

"Don't leave. Please." Lan Zhan lets out a slow breath, leaning back slightly, seemingly done with his—spiel? Confession?—Wei Wuxian doesn't even know what to call it, other than that it made his blood rush to his cheeks and his heart feel like singing.

He wants to reply. He really does, but he can't get his mouth to open when all of his attention has shifted to concentrate on the hands cradling his. He watches in fascination as the hands holding his own gain dimension. Lan Zhan waits, as if he knows that something amazing—something impossible —is happening.

"Lan Zhan," is all he can say, helplessly shaking his head.

His fists clench and loosen at his sides. He doesn't know how to do this. The well of words that always sit perched on the edge of his tongue have dried up. Lan Zhan —perfect, asking-him-not-to-stay, Lan Zhan— leans forward slowly. Gently, he gathers Wei Wuxian into a hug. Strong arms twine around his back and squeezing in a fascinating combination of hesitancy and desperation.

There's no other way to say it, Wei Wuxian melts into the embrace.

"Wei Ying. Stay," Lan Zhan says, voice soft in his ear, breath disturbing the hair there and causing dragonflies to swarm through Wei Wuxian.

Confronted with the indisputable proof provided during the past week, Wei Wuxian can't find it in himself to refuse.

~

Wei Wuxian is convinced that the stairs up to Cloud Recesses are more peaceful than at least half of the compound itself. On the stairs, it's incredibly unlikely that one will run into a bereaved Lan Qiren, goatee quivering and spittle flying from his mouth as he screams at Wei Wuxian for something or another. Actually, Wei Wuxian's fairly sure Lan Qiren would yell at him for those thoughts as well.

Still, it's hard to think of anywhere quite as otherworldly as the staircase to Cloud Recesses. Like a gateway to another realm. Gnarled branches reach down to sweep gently at the drifting coils of mist, floating delicately above the steps.

Ahead of Wei Wuxian, mist skittering away from their stomping feet, Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling's voice rise in arguments, disturbing the relative tranquility. Lan Jingyi reaches out, swatting at Jin Ling's shoulder and promptly mimicking the offended squawking that follows. Ouyang Zizhen tries to mediate, but all it serves to do is give Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling a common enemy.

Jiang Cheng's eyebrows are pulled tight towards the center of his face, deep furrows between his brows, furrows that Wei Wuxian is sure are permanent by now. He gestures awkwardly, haltingly making conversation with a pleasantly smiling Lan Sizhui who is very valiantly not looking back at Lan Zhan's trailing figure for help.

Ah. It makes something warm swirl in Wei Wuxian's gut.

Home has always been a difficult concept for Wei Wuxian.

It stayed fluid. Forever just out of his reach, changing with the slightest shift of the air. Once, twice, thrice, he thought he'd reached it, but it had just been a teasing brush against his outreached fingertips before spiraling away.

In theory, it's been many things. Harsh and cutting as mountain wind, soft and comforting as warm spring water. Spice across his tongue, heated and popping and alive.

It was death, once. That was the most unique one (sometimes he wonders if going back would feel as familiar, as comforting , as coming back to life hadn't).

Then he came back, and home shifted again. The only consistent trait has been how fleeting it is.

It's strange to have a place where people shift to accommodate Wei Wuxian of all people.

Lan Zhan—Wei Wuxian thinks that Lan Zhan is somewhere Wei Wuxian could stay.

Lan Zhan's steps falter, as if sensing that Wei Wuxian's thoughts have circled back around to him. Again. As always. Their eyes meet and Wei Wuxian can't help the grin that spreads over his face. Before he can think too much about it, his feet are carrying him forward, slipping slightly with his force against the smooth stone of the staircase.

A laugh bounds from his chest as he triumphantly grabs Lan Zhan's now-solid (and Wei Wuxian can still barely believe that—but he's trying, he’s trying ) hand, jostling his side and jerking his chin conspiratorially towards where Jiang Cheng is still attempting to make awkward, angry conversation with Lan Sizhui.

Lan Zhan inclines his head indulgently, eyes twinkling in what Wei Wuxian is fairly confident is muted amusement.

Looking at him, and at Jiang Cheng and the Juniors, affection surges through Wei Wuxian with enough force that he feels pressure building behind his eyes.

He needs to let it out somehow so, somewhat helplessly, he says, "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"

"Mn?" Lan Zhan shifts slightly, angling his head downwards as though whatever Wei Wuxian is about to say is important enough to make the great Hanguang-Jun lower his head.

That's it.

Wei Wuxian presses up onto his toes, tugging Lan Zhan down with their intertwined hands. He sees Lan Zhan start to raise a single eyebrow, but that's the last thing he sees before he's slamming his eyes shut and pressing his lips against Lan Zhan's. For a second, he thinks he's made some grand mistake. But then Lan Zhan's free hand is cupping the back of Wei Wuxian's head and his kissing back with a ferocity that knocks the air from Wei Wuxian's lungs.

Wei Wuxian breaks away, breathless, and whispers, "I'll stay."

The look Lan Zhan gives him, wide eyed with red lips parted, is so filled with wonder that Wei Wuxian has the sneaking suspicion maybe he's not the only one that wonders.

He smiles, toothy, carefree, and tugs Lan Zhan to resume their journey up the steps.

In some twisted way, Wei Wuxian supposes he has the curse—the spirit— to thank for this. To thank for the tentative, bubbly feeling in his chest. For the buoyancy in his steps, for the elation running through his body with an unfamiliar tingling sensation.

Lan Sizhui's bright, bell-like laugh breaks out and echoes over them. Ouyang Zizhen launched into a rant about some novel he'd just read to a grumbling Jin Ling, and a teasing Lan Jingyi. Jiang Cheng glances back at them, narrowed eyes lingering on their clasped hands, and rolls his eyes before turning back to Lan Sizhui, seemingly encouraged by the laugh he'd managed to coax out. 

That fuzzy feeling in his chest strengthens, but Wei Wuxian doesn't feel like he's going to suffocate. He can breathe. 

For once in his life, he can breathe .

This. This is good.

Wei Wuxian will stay.