Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian is not causing trouble. He is not decimating villages, or summoning darkness, or eating virgins—none of the things people generally seem to worry about him doing these days. In fact he’s been on his very best behavior for several weeks now—that is, however long he’s been imposing on Lan Zhan’s hospitality while deciding what to do next.

It wasn’t his idea to come back to Gusu, but Lan Zhan wasn’t going to come elsewhere, and he’d given him that look. No words, just…well, grief. And even though he knows he’s not the best company, and Lan Zhan deserves better, he also doesn’t deserve to be sad.

So, he’s been on his best behavior.

For weeks.

Not that it’s made a difference.

He’s making his way down through the center of the Cloud Recesses from his assigned guesthouse toward the winding paths of the forest, when he’s confronted with a small group of Lans emerging from one of the central buildings.

He fights his friendly nature, and looks away. Tries to somehow look penitent, or harmless, or whatever it is that will make them stop staring at him like he’s about to sprout extra heads. But it doesn’t matter. Lan Qiren is with them.

Wei Wuxian cringes. The disapproving glare is brief but cutting, and the departing huff is so pointed it’d probably leave a bruise if he were nearer.

But they don’t cast him out. And they don’t chain him up. They play host to Yiling Laozu, their disgust evident but toothless. It’s more than he’s expected from any of the sects in a long, long time. And he owes it all to Lan Zhan’s kindness, which he can never hope to repay.

He sighs.

It’s a beautiful day for a stroll.

He turns his feet down the forest path, taking his time, enjoying the sunshine. The air has begun to chill slightly, and autumn is on the way, so he’s been making a point to soak up as much sun as he can before the clouds roll in and the mist descends. He’ll be traveling by then, he supposes, as he must soon. It won’t do to overstay his welcome, and he’s been thinking of when he should leave since the day he arrived. A leisurely walk in the late summer sun is something to savor indeed when the future contains such vague promise of muddy trudges between drab towns. Even if it’s not quite as warm or as bright as his memory of such walks back home.

Tall bamboo sways and sighs around him, threaded through with birdsong and the hum of insects. It’s a quiet, private sort of walk, like most things in this place. Meant to nourish one’s spirit by the simple virtue of its beauty, he supposes. He does miss the sticky heat and raucous laughter of his youth, but it’s a distant ache. Old. Scabbed-over time and again. It only really hurts when he has to look it in the face.

He turns past a twist in the path, and hears voices a ways off in the distance. This gives him pause. There are people here he knows would rather not run into him in the middle of a forest, despite Hanguang-jun’s reassurances and eloquent glares. He tells himself this doesn’t bother him. He knows what he’s done, what he’s been. He listens and makes ready to slip off the path, to spare some unsuspecting war veteran the scare. But the voices don’t grow any nearer.

He takes a few tentative steps forward, and realizes the voices are coming from off the path. And they’re voices he recognizes. Smiling, he follows the sound.

“...and then he kisses him.”

“In front of everyone?” Sizhui’s voice is gently scandalized.

“Well yeah! Everyone knows anyway, even in real life, so why not?”

“I just don’t know if Hanguang-jun would—”

“You think Hanguang-jun cares what people think? You heard Jin Ling telling everyone what happened at his place.” Jingyi pauses, and Sizhui hums. “Anyway, he kisses him right there, blah blah, happily ever after. I said it needed more fighting, but Zizhen actually reads this stuff, so I guess he’d know better.”

“Hm…” Sizhui says, sounding unconvinced.

Wei Wuxian, somewhat delayed by his bafflement at the mention of Hanguang-jun, figures this as good a time as any to reveal himself.

“Just because Zizhen can read doesn’t mean he can write,” he says, coming around to lean against a thick group of stalks. “Let me guess, romance? Are you boys thinking of turning away from cultivation and starting on a new path?”

Both boys stare at him with a few degrees more shock and embarrassment than he thinks the situation frankly warrants. Sizhui is turning alarmingly pink.

“What, you think romance novels are a new invention?” he says, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine, Wei-qianbei never heard a thing. But what are you doing out—”

He cuts off as he takes them in, and notices the small horde of white bunnies sprawled across both their laps.

“Ah…I see,” he says, and grins.

“Please don’t tell, Wei-qianbei,” Jingyi says, the quicker to recover of the two. “They’re not really pets, they just…live here. And we…we come and see them sometimes.”

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? Is that how your elders would see it?”

“Please, Wei-qianbei,” Sizhui says, looking up at him with the widest, most pleading eyes.

“Ugh,” Wei Wuxian says. “Stop being so sincere. Begging doesn’t become a young gentleman.”

Both boys’ spines snap straight, and they bow their heads. A few bunnies hop away, and Wei Wuxian decides to have mercy. He sits down across from them.

“I won’t tell, but you have to tell me your secret.”

Sizhui’s eyes go comically wide, and Jingyi looks stricken.

Interesting. But currently irrelevant; he files it away for later.

“...The secret of how to get this many rabbits in your lap,” he clarifies. “These things have always hated me.”

There’s a brief pause before both boys relax, and then nod eagerly. Wei Wuxian puts on his best Good Student face to listen to their instructions. He nods firmly in all the right places, as if he really cares how to lure rabbits, but finds himself carried away by their unexpected seriousness.

“So where did you guys learn to be rabbit whisperers?” he asks, holding very still just as he’s been told, letting a rabbit sniff cautiously at his fingertips.

Jingyi looks to Sizhui, whose face does that blankly polite Lan thing.

“It’s very instinctive,” he says, “you just have to respect their boundaries, and make them feel safe.”

“Mhmmmm,” says Wei Wuxian. “Very smart. Compassionate.” He salutes him properly. “This one thanks Lan-laoshi for teaching him the ways of the rabbit.”

Sizhui goes deeply red again and waves his hands frantically. “No no no no, Wei-qianbei, please—”

He cuts off at a closeby rustling among the foliage, and they all turn toward it. The boys freeze in fear of punishment, but Wei Wuxian cringes, and hunches, hoping simply not to worsen whatever punishment they might receive. If only it’s not one of the elders, or worse, Lan Qiren himself.

But the figure that steps out into the sunny little clearing is not any of those people. Lan Zhan emerges, tall and shining and exquisite. His sharp eyes sweep over them all, but don’t react in the slightest. He stands, one hand loosely gripping Bichen, the other behind his back, and waits for the explanation he knows will come.

The three rule-breakers stare at him in varying states of silence. Jingyi breaks first.

“Hanguang-jun! We! Just! We’re not really…they’re not pets! And…”

“You know what a bad influence I am, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian interjects, taking pity, “especially when it comes to these little friends.”

He means the rabbits and the boys both, unfortunately. Lan Zhan looks at him, unimpressed, and then his eyes fall to the two rabbits sleeping peacefully in his lap. His gaze rests on them for a long moment.

He turns to Sizhui.

“Well done,” he says. “You have taught the unteachable.”

And then, as Sizhui beams pinkly, and Jingyi gapes, he steps forward and settles on the ground with breathtaking grace. He sets Bichen carefully to the side, and arranges his sleeves, then holds a hand out to the nearest wakeful bunny. It hops forward to sniff him. When it nuzzles his hand, he pets it, and lifts it into his lap where it snuggles down without complaint.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, so painfully fond he knows it must be spilling over onto his face. He turns away and scratches his head.

“It’s instinctive, eh Sizhui?” he teases, when he’s got himself a little more under control.

Sizhui ducks his head, suddenly very absorbed in petting one of his bunnies, while Jingyi’s disbelieving stare turns on him and transforms to one of betrayal. While they have an entirely silent but clearly heated exchange, Wei Wuxian lets his gaze drift away. It catches on a strange dark spot against Lan Zhan’s thigh, and as he watches, Lan Zhan reaches down and carefully picks it up.

The pitch-black rabbit drapes itself over Lan Zhan’s arm.

“Where did that one come from?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Zhan glances up at him, then looks down at the little creature, his face soft.

“Somewhere. It does not matter.”

“You’re going to have rabbits of all colors, if you’re not careful. You’re going to muddy the whole clan, letting in just any rabbit out of the woods.”

“Perhaps,” says Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian watches him cradle the little thing, probably mangey, or mean, or diseased, as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. His own stillness must make him extra trustworthy, because a rabbit hops up into his lap, and stretches up to sniff at his chest. He copies what he’s seen Lan Zhan and Sizhui do, and cups his hands under its hind legs, slowly lifting it, his hands a gentle platform.

It rests against his shoulder, calm and content. It doesn’t so much as wiggle.

“Hanguang-jun,” he complains, “why didn’t you ever tell me the bunny secrets? You just wanted to keep all their love for yourself.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t look up from the little black rabbit, now sleeping under his big, gentle hands. Wei Wuxian does his best not to feel unduly jealous, as he tries not to feel most things he does around Lan Zhan.

“You were uninterested in their love,” Lan Zhan says. “Your focus was elsewhere. I would have told you any secret you desired to know, but you did not want to hear.”

Face hot, Wei Wuxian feigns annoyance. “Ah, Lan Zhan, stop badmouthing me in front of the junior disciples. How will they ever listen to me again?”

“He’s not badmouthing you, Wei-qianbei, he’s just answering your question,” says Jingyi. “I don’t get how anybody could not want this, though.”

He’s petting his bunnies again, possibly a little too hard. Still miffed at the Hanguang-jun bunny secret, then.

“The only thing I ever wanted to do with rabbits is eat them,” Wei Wuxian says.

Jingyi’s head jerks up to gape once more, this time in horror. “W-Wei-qianbei, you—”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Calm down, calm down, I won’t eat your special Lan Yi-raised bunny colony…I’ll save my tastebuds for cruder fare, don’t you worry.”

“Lan Yi???” both boys chorus.

“Ah? Lan Zhan, you never told them?”

A pause. “I never told anyone about the rabbits. Did you?”

“N-no…I didn’t.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes come up to meet his, warm.

Wei Wuxian’s heart thumps in his chest, thinking of all the moments in time that belong to just them. There aren’t many. And they’re not all good memories—the ones he still has, at least—but each one stands out in his mind, bright lanterns lining the path home. He’s fiercely, shamefully glad Lan Zhan kept some of them to himself as well all these years. Kept them secret, and safe, and theirs. It makes him think maybe, in some way, they mean equally as much to the both of them.

Relief, is what it is. It’s a relief to still have parts of Lan Zhan to himself, and parts of himself that are only Lan Zhan’s. Even if they aren’t nearly all the parts Wei Wuxian would wish for.

“Lan Yi raised rabbits?” Jingy repeats, eyes shining.

It makes Wei Wuxian smile.

“Is he as big a fan as you, Lan Zhan?” he asks.

Lan Zhan nods, that tiny, sweet smile relaxing his eyes and tugging at his lips. Wei Wuxian laughs, and turns back to Jingyi. He sighs dramatically, and shrugs.

“Who knows? Such knowledge must be lost to history…”

Indignant and shocked, Jingyi huffs, and looks to his precious Hanguang-jun for the truth. But Lan Zhan just tucks his smile away, serious and impassive once more, and gently pets his rabbits.

They stay there, the four of them, sometimes talking, sometimes just absorbing the warmth of sunshine and soft fur, for half the afternoon. It’s a lovely day for it, lounging about in the sunshine.

Suddenly, and seemingly at random, Wei Wuxian is hit with a pang of nostalgia, and then grief, sharp as new: the last days he spent like this were far away, long ago, but they come back to him now in full color. His shidis and shimeis. The lakes, and the heat, and the rare and precious lazy afternoons.

They’re dead, now. Almost every single one of them. And no vengeful young cultivator willing to exchange a life for theirs.

He can’t look at Jingyi and Sizhui, these bright young things Lan Zhan has so carefully tended. He has hope for them, Lan Zhan does. So much hope. For their whole generation. It’s why he’s doing a job he hates, every day, for long hours—it’s for them.

But Wei Wuxian can’t look at them, this close. Hope is not something he can help any of them with. In fact, he’s best kept far away from it, he thinks, for it to come to anything good.

He has the stark realization that it is long past time for him to stop imposing on Lan Zhan’s hospitality.

That evening he goes down to Caiyi. He wants to find some token there, some small reminder to give to Lan Zhan when he tells him he’s leaving. He knows it’s silly, knows they’re grown men, not young…well. They’re friends, and it’s not necessary, but he’s determined anyway. Maybe it will soften the blow. Lan Zhan’s attachment to him may not be the same tenor as his own to Lan Zhan, but it’s strong. He knows that; knows it’s been strengthened by loss and tempered by guilt, knows that his presence is some kind of balm to that deep loneliness he’s come to understand Lan Zhan harbors. And yet he’s given Lan Zhan so little. Of course Lan Zhan doesn’t mind, would never ask him for anything, but that just makes him more determined to find something. Something perfect.

It does not go as planned.

He’s browsing the market, turning over fine trinkets of lacquered wood and stone, rifling through old books and interesting rare scrolls, but ultimately finding nothing much of interest. There’s a little carving of a bunny, but it’s in ebony rather than jade, and he wrinkles his nose at it. Not perfect enough for Lan Zhan.

He’s losing enthusiasm for this venture when he spots a new sign at one of the more prominent vendors of Emperor’s Smile.

“Laoban, is this real, or a joke too clever for one such as me?” he asks at the stall.

“It’s no joke, gongzi!” the man replies. “A meticulous formulation that took years of experimentation to perfect!” He lowers his voice and speaks to Wei Wuxian behind his hand. “There’s even advanced cultivation involved!”

“Is that so?” Wei Wuxian asks. “How does it taste?”

“The very same! The same light, crisp taste of the finest Emperor’s Smile—but with no alcohol!”

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms. It doesn’t make much sense, but he’s always glad to be the skeptic proven wrong.

“None, you say. Absolutely none?”

The vendor pats a pristine white jar. “This beauty couldn’t even get a flea drunk.”

“Hmph…well.” Wei Wuxian grins. “How about a taste test?”

“Of course, of course,” the vendor says, smiling blandly. He holds out his hand. “Purchase as many bottles as you’d like to test.”

Wei Wuxian grimaces at him, and then hands over the money.

He makes the mistake of drinking an entire jar of the real stuff before trying the new version. And then, when he’s almost sure it tastes the same, he decides he needs another bottle of the original to really make sure. And then another.

By the time he’s trying to stifle his giggles as he sneaks back onto the mountain, he’s lost track. But he’s pretty sure the alcohol-free stuff is good. Which is good! Because he bought an extra one! He leaves it on Lan Zhan’s porch with a slip of talisman paper tacked onto the bottle. He tries not to cover the “NO ALCOHOL” characters, but he can’t really tell if it works. He hopes his note reading, “For Lan Zhan,” is enough to make it clear.

By morning, he forgets all of this.

It takes him a few days to get up the courage to do it, but finally he decides to tell Lan Zhan he’s leaving. He finds him that evening, intercepts him after his last meeting, and rushes up, resisting grabbing onto his arm or throwing one of his own around Lan Zhan’s shoulders only by clasping his hands behind his back. It’s so hard to remember Lan Zhan doesn’t want people touching him when all he wants to do all the time is touch Lan Zhan.

“Good day?” he asks, falling into step beside him.

Lan Zhan glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and nods slightly. “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “That terrible, huh?”

He just catches the corner of Lan Zhan’s grin. It lights him up inside, for some reason. He feels crazy with it. Every damn time.

“Well forget all that, then,” he says. “Eat with me.”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan says, and stops. “What would you like?”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t blush, doesn’t duck his head, but it’s a near thing. Such a ridiculous question.

“Whatever you’re having, it doesn’t matter, but I’m starving. Will you host me? How many times can I invite you for a meal and then make you pay for it before you stop saying yes, hm?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head, and starts walking toward his house again. “As many times as you wish.”

It takes a moment before Wei Wuxian’s legs get working again, before he can catch up with him. He pats his cheeks surreptitiously, trying to tell just how obvious and embarrassing their heat might be.

Lan Zhan’s house is quiet and still in a way that makes Wei Wuxian feel quiet and still. It doesn’t itch at his edges like some stuffy, rigid, quiet stillnesses—it settles him. Calms the restless energy of his mind. It’s almost trancelike, definitely meditative—a perfect reflection of the singular peace of Lan Zhan’s own person. Wei Wuxian wonders at it every time, trying to pin down the elements that make it so. But he can’t. It’s just the energy of the place. The peace Lan Zhan feels in his own space, suffusing it.

He wants to let it suffuse him, too. Let it fill him up with serenity and comfort.

But if he lets it really sink in he’ll probably never leave. And he can't impose forever.

He sits at Lan Zhan’s table, across from him, their food waiting hot and fresh between. He tries to decide how and when to tell him. He doesn’t want to make him sad, doesn’t want to make him think he’s not happy here, catching snippets of time together when they can—but if he tries to reassure him, Lan Zhan won’t understand why he has to go. And if he waits too long, Lan Zhan might think the whole dinner some kind of ruse to protect himself from backlash at the bad news.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, before he can change his mind. “It’s been…it’s been a while since everything happened in that temple.”

Lan Zhan, of course, is silent as he pours the tea. He nods.

“And it’s been good to have a place to gather myself, after.”

The stream of tea from spout to cup pauses, then restarts.

“But I think it’s time I…went out into the world,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Put myself to good use. The best use I can, at least.”

Lan Zhan sets the teapot down and folds his hands in his lap. His eyes stay on the table.

“You should do as you wish,” he says softly.

It hurts. It hurts, sharp and quick and blinding, deep down in Wei Wuxian’s bones. The sound of his voice. The words. He swallows hard.

“I’ll write to you,” he says. It sounds weak and hollow. “If you like.”

“I would like that.”

The silence hangs between them for another unbearable moment, and then Lan Zhan uncovers their bowls and starts putting servings of vegetables in each of them. He uncovers a small pot, and pushes it toward him. Its contents are a vivid red.

Wei Wuxian’s throat tightens and aches.

He’s certain he’s never passed a meal in more thorough silence.

Once they’ve finished eating, Wei Wuxian casts about for something to say. Something to ease the tension, to prove to both of them that this is fine.

“Is this alright?” Lan Zhan asks, holding up a snow-white ceramic bottle.

“Mn,” Wei Wuxian says, mind elsewhere. Lan Zhan’s thoughtfulness at always keeping wine for him is just another thing he can’t think too hard about, if he wants to keep to his plan.

He reaches for his cup as soon as Lan Zhan sets it down, eager for the distraction of the burn in his throat. But Lan Zhan holds out his own cup in a formal salute. Wei Wuxian blinks and copies him, and they drink together.

When the taste hits his tongue, his mind slows down and speeds up at the same time.

It’s strange. It’s Emperor’s Smile, and it’s not. The burn is absent—no, not absent, but less. Quite a bit less. It’s still—his eyes fall once more on the bottle, and suddenly, he remembers.

“Lan Zhan—” he starts.

But Lan Zhan is staring into his cup, and already beginning to sway.

Wei Wuxian curses the street vendor, and the brewers, and himself—why had he not checked to make sure there was no alcohol in it before—

Lan Zhan slaps a hand down on the table, catching himself more dramatically than necessary for the tipsy little way he’s moving.

“Is it…ah…Lan Zhan? Is it still too much? Or…”

Lan Zhan drags his eyes up to Wei Wuxian’s. They’re unfocused, lids heavy.

“Are you going to pass out this time? Cause mischief? Talk about rabbits? What do—”

He cuts off as Lan Zhan unsteadily pushes up from the ground, then makes his winding but quick way toward the door. Wei Wuxian curses again and scrambles to follow.

Chapter Text

“Lan Zhan,” he pleads, “wouldn’t you like to just stay home? We can…read. Or. Play music? Or talk? Aren’t you sleepy? It’s late now.”

But they’re already out of Lan Zhan’s bamboo gate, already on the path down toward the forest.

“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, “I’m tired! Aren’t you tired? Let’s go back, ah?”

He tugs on Lan Zhan’s sleeve. Lan Zhan tugs it out of his grasp, and keeps walking. Wei Wuxian sighs.

It’s going to be a long night.

He pleads nonetheless all the way down the path, over two small bridges, and deep into the night. Wei Wuxian is just beginning to wonder if it will ever end when Lan Zhan slips off the path.

“Ah ah ah! Lan Zhan, don’t go wandering off!”

He follows him, wishing he had his pouch and his talisman paper for some light and some direction.

“If we get lost out here, what will you say when they find us in the morning? Hm? Won’t you be embarrassed? The great Hanguang-jun lost in his own home?”

Lan Zhan stops short, and Wei Wuxian only just keeps from bumping into him. His eyes are still glazed and heavy, but his stare is chastising nonetheless. He holds a finger to his lips. Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“Why are you always shushing me?” he whispers. “There’s nobody else out here. Everyone is at home, in bed. Like you should be!”

Lan Zhan shakes his finger, emphasizing the gesture, and Wei Wuxian sighs deeply, then nods. Lan Zhan turns and picks his careful, silent way through to a clearing. The canopy above them opens up, and moonlight spills through, illuminating a strange, pale mottling across the grass.

After a moment, Wei Wuxian’s eyes adjust, and he sees them. Countless white rabbits in scattered huddles, snuffling and settling in to sleep, faintly blued by the moon. His breath catches.

“La—”

Lan Zhan shoots him a cutting glare, and he falls silent. They skirt the edge of the clearing, Lan Zhan somehow graceful and swift even as he sways and weaves. The moonlight catches and blues him too, and something about the cloth of his robes shimmers gently, though it didn’t in the lamplight of his house. His dark hair shines like flowing water, and a breeze catches at the hems of his sleeves.

Wei Wuxian realizes he’s smiling, and then frowns.

He already doesn’t want to leave. This is not helping.

Then something changes in Lan Zhan’s manner. Wei Wuxian misses the exact moment, but suddenly he’s searching, agitated, his gaze more alert as it flicks around the clearing.

“What is it?” he murmurs. Instinctive, he puts a hand on his arm. “Lan Zhan?”

“Heizi,” Lan Zhan breathes.

He takes off again, faster, beyond the edge of the clearing, searching through the foliage.

“He’s probably just gone off somewhere,” Wei Wuxian whispers loudly. “He’s a rabbit! He’s found a really delicious vegetable, or maybe—he’s got a mate, or he’s gone home, or at least back where he belo—”

Lan Zhan stops short, and Wei Wuxian hurries to get in front of him before he takes off again.

“I’m sure it’s alright! He doesn’t need us to worry about…”

He trails off, belatedly seeing Lan Zhan’s face. His brow is held high and delicately proud, but his eyes are on the ground, his lovely mouth dragging down at the corners. He looks deeply, profoundly sad. As if he might cry at any moment.

“Ah? Are you…really that worried?”

Lan Zhan turns away from him roughly, and he lets go of Lan Zhan’s wrist to take a step back. He tries to take a deep breath, but finds that for some reason he can’t.

“We’ll find him,” he says. “I’ll..I’ll help look.”

He starts peering through bushes and holding aside ferns, wishing once more he had talismans for light. Or a torch. Something. The little black rabbit will be almost impossible to see, especially once the moon goes down—they’ve got to find it before then. But where would a rabbit be in the middle of the night, if not with its friends?

He realizes it’s silent behind him. He turns. Lan Zhan is standing there, watching him, an expression of gentle confusion on his face.

“Where does he like to go?” he asks him. “Do you know?”

Lan Zhan blinks heavily, and points back to the clearing. Wei Wuxian sighs.

“Useless question. Alright, alright.”

He goes back to his search, and eventually hears Lan Zhan poking through the bushes too. He tries to peer at the dark earth with sufficient thoroughness and also keep an eye on him, which is difficult for a while, until Lan Zhan catches up. He's forced to slow down as Lan Zhan loses steam, as the lateness of the hour drags at his drunken limbs. Eventually Lan Zhan is leaning against him, but still they search.

And then, finally, finally, Wei Wuxian lifts away the long leaf of a fern, and he sees it. Inky fur gleaming in the faint light of the setting moon.

Lan Zhan makes a small, surprised noise.

"See?" Wei Wuxian whispers. "He's alright, and he's still here."

He pushes the fern farther aside, revealing the pale ball of fluff curled against it. He huffs.

"Just wanted some privacy I guess," he says, letting the frond fall back into place. "But they're not far from their friends. Happy, Lan Zhan?"

He glances over, and Lan Zhan is much closer than he thought, staring at him with a slack-jawed expression. Wei Wuxian's face heats, and he looks away, glad Lan Zhan won’t remember any of this come morning. He’d be dreadfully embarrassed.

"Time for sleep, " he says, and begins to tow Lan Zhan back through the clearing.

But some of the rabbits stir, and nose curiously at their boots. Lan Zhan halts, and drops, wobbly, to his knees. Wei Wuxian sighs deeply, and puts his hands on his hips, mouth open to urge him up, and onward.

Lan Zhan picks up one of the bunnies and gently nuzzles his entire face into its side.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t clutch at his heart, but it’s a very near thing. He watches, pained, as Lan Zhan cradles and cuddles the little thing, both of them wearing expressions of gentle bliss. After a moment, Lan Zhan glances up at him, and his mouth falls open in soft, comical surprise, as if he forgot Wei Wuxian was there. He looks at the rabbit, then back up at Wei Wuxian. He extends his arms, lifting the rabbit toward him like an offering.

“Ah, no, he’s happier with you,” says Wei Wuxian, shaking his hands at him.

But Lan Zhan’s loose expression of hope falls, and Wei Wuxian’s whole chest pangs. Defeated, he drops down beside him, and accepts the rabbit. Which immediately begins to squirm in his hands. He tries to keep hold of it, his hands a loose but secure cage, and by the time Lan Zhan has pressed his face into another rabbit, he thinks it’s begun to settle. He occupies himself trying to remember Sizhui and Jingyi’s teachings to keep it happy, instead of losing years off his life watching Lan Zhan solemnly cuddle the daylights out of every bunny in the clearing.

Eventually, the fluffy little cloud seems to be allowing itself to be lulled. Its eyes droop, and it nuzzles its head into Wei Wuxian’s palm. He huffs.

“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” he says. “I wonder if you’d let me give you a kiss now. Hmm? Would you like a kiss?”

An abnormal stillness suddenly sets off alarm bells in his mind, and he turns, quick, to see what’s wrong. But it’s just Lan Zhan, right beside him…only, he’s staring at him much more intently now, and something has changed in his expression. Wei Wuxian blinks at him, confused.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan's eyelashes flutter as he glances down, and then back to Wei Wuxian’s face. He swallows visibly. Wei Wuxian notices his ears have darkened oddly in the monochrome of moonlight, and…he nods. Wei Wuxian feels strangely hot. He’s still confused, but Lan Zhan is very, very close, and he’s still—

Lan Zhan’s heavy gaze flicks down to Wei Wuxian’s mouth, and it all hits him at once. His expression, his nod, his blush.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes, limbs buzzing and numb. “I—ah,” he holds up the rabbit. “I didn't mean…I was talking to…to the…”

In a flash, before Wei Wuxian has even registered him moving, Lan Zhan is whirling away, a froth of white disappearing into the night.

It takes longer than it should for Wei Wuxian to release the bone-cracking fear that he’s given too much of himself away. It takes even longer for him to accept the reality of what has just happened.

When at last the world stops shifting around him, he almost drops the bunny, but remembers himself and sets it down gently before chasing after Lan Zhan.

He calls out for him, half-whispering so as not to disturb all the wild, sleeping things. “Lan Zhan, come back. Where are you going? Your house is the other way.”

He catches a flash of white through the tall bamboo. He changes course and follows, winding first deeper into the forest, and then out toward the path again.

“Lan Zhan, please,” he calls. “I’m sorry! Will you just—will you wait just a moment, for goodness’ sake, I can’t see out here, can you—”

He’s brought up short by the sight of exactly one half of Lan Zhan sticking out from a stand of thick culms. He halts, torn between fondness, anxiety, and the sheer hilarity of such a hiding place. He shakes his head, and brutally smothers the slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up his throat. It’s the last thing Lan Zhan needs to hear.

“Hey,” he says, approaching warily, “what are you doing in there?”

Lan Zhan shuffles, trying to press farther in amongst the bamboo.

“I”m not…I would never make fun of you,” he says. “It was just a…a simple misunderstanding. Don’t be embarrassed. Why don’t we just go home, hm?”

A thought strikes him, then, devastating in its obviousness. His heart sinks, and he rearranges his fireworking mind into something more responsible.

“You’ll…you’ll forget about it all by morning, alright?” he says. “No need to worry.”

A soft, hitching rasp makes its way to his ears, and Lan Zhan makes no move to come out. Wei Wuxian chances a few steps closer, and realizes that Lan Zhan is not simply embarrassed.

He’s crying.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching out. But Lan Zhan flinches from the touch on his arm, turning more firmly away. “Lan Zhan. Why…”

Lan Zhan doesn’t respond.

His silence, his obvious distress, work on Wei Wuxian’s mind and memory until he’s on the edge of real panic. Even back in the temple, held hostage and helpless, Lan Zhan hadn’t fallen apart once. Or after Yi City, which obviously affected him deeply. The last time Wei Wuxian can remember seeing him this way is when he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

“Please…don’t cry. It’s alright, really, I didn’t mean to…let’s. Can we go back now? We can talk about it, we can—anything you want, Lan Zhan, but let’s go back. Please?”

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Lan Zhan still refuses to speak to him. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do to make this right. Short moments ago he was blissfully happy, and just one sentence from Wei Wuxian had ruined him. And things are never as easy to fix as they are to break.

There’s a moment of silence, and then, thick and hoarse, Lan Zhan tells him, “Go.”

“Yeah,” says Wei Wuxian, panic barely held at bay. “Let’s go.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “You go.” He takes a shaky breath, and hiccups. “Leave. Travel. Away.”

At that, it’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to flinch. He takes a step back, and a deep breath. This, at least, is something he can understand. Something he can do.

“I will, Lan Zhan, I know. I’ll do anything you want, but right now you have to come back with me. Come on.”

There’s an animal, desperate, frustrated sound that Wei Wuxian never would have thought Lan Zhan capable of making, has never heard even in his most frantic of moments, and then:

“You want.”

It takes several breaths for Wei Wuxian to understand. Then he frowns, losing patience with himself for falling back on his own insecurities instead of listening. He grinds his teeth, and tries to think. Tries to think through everything that has just happened, to what would make Lan Zhan happy again.

It’s surreal to entertain the idea that Lan Zhan might want to kiss him, but all evidence seems to point to that being the case. He holds the concept in his mind like a squirming rabbit, trying to find the angle that will calm it and make it settle into place.

Lan Zhan is lonely. Has maybe always been a little bit lonely. And they’re…close. They trust each other, now. After everything. It stands to reason that he might be…curious. About some…things. In his uninhibited, drunken state.

The thought makes Wei Wuxian indescribably sad. Lan Zhan deserves more than curiosity, and definitely more than accidental rejection. He has the errant thought that maybe, on his travels, he could see about finding someone Lan Zhan might actually—

He cuts the thought off before he can picture things that upset him more. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. Right now, Lan Zhan is the one who is sad, and that simply won’t stand.

He grimaces. He’s never been good at vulnerability. Or reassurances. But Lan Zhan needs them now, and he’ll forget it all anyway.

“I never want to go away from you, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs.

But Lan Zhan just turns his lovely, streaming eyes away. His petulance is almost endearing even through the distressing wrongness of the whole situation. Wei Wuxian wants to wipe the tears away, wants to make him smile with that same relieved softness he wore when they found the little black rabbit.

“Lan Zhan,” he goes on, “I know that you wanted—or—you thought I wanted…”

Lan Zhan curls his body away, his ears going red once more.

“But I do want to—” Wei Wuxian cuts himself off. He doesn’t know if he can say it. He reminds himself none of it will matter in the morning. “I want to…what you thought I was asking. I do.”

Slowly, Lan Zhan turns back toward him, though he still won’t meet his eye. Wei Wuxian takes hold of his arm.

“I do! I’ve always…ah, Lan Zhan, if you…if you wanted that, then I would. All the time. I just never thought you would.”

Blinking in confusion, Lan Zhan looks up at Wei Wuxian’s face. “Me?”

Wei Wuxian grimaces. The disbelief is jarring and wrong. Lan Zhan should know anybody in their right minds would want to kiss him all the time. But there’s no reason to try to make him understand now.

“Yeah…we can talk about this in the morning, Lan Zhan, right? It’s time for sleep.”

The unhappy pout on Lan Zhan’s lips deepens, and he turns back to the bamboo.

Wei Wuxian groans.

“Lan Zhan, what do you want me to say, ah? That I want to kiss you all the time? That I’d never want to be away from you, if I thought I could stay? That I want to do everything with you, always, forever? Do you want the whole confession in writing, or is this enough?”

He’s horrified as soon as he finishes, full of embarrassment and regret, but Lan Zhan is staring at him, glassy eyes wide, mouth dropped open in shock. Wei Wuxian finds he can’t look at him.

“Don’t look like that, it can’t be that shock—”

He hurries to catch Lan Zhan as he stumbles into him, never breaking eye contact.

“Wei Ying,” he says, fervent and low and quiet.

“Lan Zhan,” says Wei Wuxian, fighting not to be overcome. He shouldn’t read into this, Lan Zhan is drunk, and emotional, and it’s late. He lets himself tuck an errant lock of hair behind Lan Zhan’s ear, then steadies himself. “Will you come back with me now?”

Lan Zhan nods, blinking slowly. Heavy with sleep and devastatingly sweet.

“Okay. Alright, come on. Let’s go.”

Back in Lan Zhan’s beautiful, peaceful house, the night retreats as candles spring to life at his loose gesture. He’s leaning fully against Wei Wuxian’s side, his head heavy on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. The flat front of his guan is a chill, intermittent touch, but the warmth of his breath is constant.

“Here we are,” Wei Wuxian murmurs softly, to mask the horrible fondness in his voice. The queasiness of what he said in the forest hasn’t faded, joined by anxiety that Lan Zhan might actually remember it. “Into bed you go.”

The clumsy act of depositing Lan Zhan onto his bed almost feels familiar, now, for the third time. The secret intimacy of it, his charming helplessness. But there’s something else to it tonight. It feels…allowed, instead of stolen. Though he knows he shouldn’t let it get to him. None of this is allowed at all.

Lan Zhan looks up at him, his gaze heavy and intent as ever, a sleepy child waiting to be told the next step in getting ready for sleep. Wei Wuxian can’t help but reach out, can’t help but put a hand to the side of his dear, wobbly head.

Lan Zhan leans into it. It’s impossible not to want to keep touching him, keep taking care of him.

“How about we take this down, hm?” Wei Wuxian says, throat tight, fingertips against his hair ornaments.

Blinking slowly, Lan Zhan nods once.

Inordinately relieved and pleased, Wei Wuxian smiles and gets to work, leaning over him to see better, carefully pulling out pins and unweaving sections of hair. It’s almost meditative, the care and attention it requires combined with the fine-silk feel of the strands. Lan Zhan, to his credit, manages to stay upright for almost all of it, but when it’s finally finished, he's leaning face-first against Wei Wuxian’s stomach.

It’s heartbreaking to right him. To push him away.

“Comfortable?” Wei Wuxian asks.

The moment Lan Zhan nods is the moment Wei Wuxian realizes he’s just putting off going back to his rooms, now. Putting off saying good night.

Putting off leaving him to forget.

“Good,” he says anyway.

There are reasons he doesn’t want Lan Zhan to remember, reasons he feels scared and split open and worried everything between them could change, could sour, could disappear.

He can’t remember them, with Lan Zhan looking at him this way. With Lan Zhan reaching for his hand, and holding it, and looking at their entwined fingers like they inspire awe.

But he knows the reasons exist.

“Well. I’m going to—”

Lan Zhan is suddenly moving with renewed purpose, free fingers plucking delicately but insistently at his forehead ribbon, and Wei Wuxian watches him uneasily. He knows he shouldn’t touch it, knows Lan Zhan will be annoyed if he tries to help, but he’s wary of this altered state combined with the ribbon’s fragility. He waits, poised to pull his determined hand away and distract him.

But Lan Zhan manages it. The ribbon comes loose in his hand, and he awkwardly pulls it free, effectively distracting Wei Wuxian instead. He hasn’t seen him without it since…since the cave of the Xuanwu. He looks so strange without it, like a different person entirely, almost. A younger one, certainly. He sways, hair down, unrestrained, and Wei Wuxian tries not to remember he really is stealing this.

He looks away. Which is why he doesn’t see Lan Zhan’s intent until it’s already happening. He looks down, confused, at pressure on his wrist. Palest blue criss-crosses deepest black as Lan Zhan doggedly winds his ribbon around Wei Wuxian’s arm.

His stomach clenches. He tries to say his name, but no sound comes out.

Lan Zhan keeps working until the whole long length of it is nearly covering his wrist wrap entirely, and Wei Wuxian finds his voice again.

“Lan Zhan. That’s not…for. That’s not for—”

But Lan Zhan is tying a knot, and tugging it to test its strength, and then looking up. He meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze, his eyes large, and vulnerable, and imploring. He clasps both hands over his work.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian rasps. “Thank you. I’ll…keep it safe. While you sleep.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head, vehement, and squeezes. “Wei Ying’s."

A sensation like thousands of needles shooting into his heart makes Wei Wuxian flinch, and almost make a sound. He swallows hard. He can’t reason this away, can’t understand what innocuous meaning this might have, when Lan Zhan is looking so hopeful and resolute. He looks like he means it. He looks like he knows what he’s saying, and is saying it on purpose.

But that can’t be. It’s impossible to accept that Lan Zhan feels…that he would want…

He’s drunk, Wei Wuxian reminds himself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he won’t remember it. In the morning he’ll likely be horrified, and confused, and Wei Wuxian won’t be the cause of it. He tells himself it would be most logical to wait until Lan Zhan is asleep, and then leave it for him before he goes. He can try to think through whatever this is later, when he’s alone, and not so very distracted.

He helps Lan Zhan lie down, guides him and keeps him steady, keeps him from hitting his head on the bed frame. He does the same for his legs, lifting them into place, making sure his robes don’t tangle, making sure he’ll be able to sleep comfortably. As comfortably as he can without getting undressed, at least. Which is a thought Wei Wuxian keeps, as ever, safely at arm's length. He takes off his boots, too, and sets them neatly on the floor.

“Alright,” he says, his heart full and painful at once. He presses a hand to Lan Zhan’s. Lets himself curl his fingers beneath, to feel the texture of his palm. “Sleep now. See you in the morning.”

But Lan Zhan doesn’t let go. He folds both hands around Wei Wuxian’s one, and frowns.

“You’ve got to sleep, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees.

Wei Wuxian tries once again to take his hand back, and is denied. He huffs. “Lan Zhan…”

“You stay.”

“Lan Zhan.”

Strong fingers tighten. Wei Wuxian’s resolve wavers, but he bolsters it.

“Lan Zhan.”

“Stay.” Lan Zhan frowns harder. “You wanted.”

"...Yes," Wei Wuxian admits, pained. "But I shouldn't. In the morning…"

Slowly, Lan Zhan lets go of him. He looks down, away, and then rolls limply onto his side to face the wall. His voice is a mournful whisper.

"I will forget."

Wei Wuxian's resolve implodes.

He sits on the bed and tugs at Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Lan Zhan, it’s just that when you wake up, you won't know why there's some person here, and you'll be upset."

Lan Zhan turns just enough to peek at him. "Not Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian drops his head onto Lan Zhan's elbow and makes a sound of frustration.

"Lan Zhan…"

Lan Zhan turns away again, and presses his face down into the bolster.

Wei Wuxian sighs. He lies down behind him, not touching him but not far away, and lays his hand on his arm again once he's settled.

"Alright, Lan Zhan. I'm here. I want to stay, so I'm staying."

He can wait until Lan Zhan is asleep, and then slip out quietly, he reasons. It will be easier on both of them this way. It makes the most sense.

Lan Zhan rolls onto his back, pressing his side all along Wei Wuxian's front. They stare at each other, and Wei Wuxian sets his hand on Lan Zhan's chest. Lan Zhan puts both of his own over it, holding on, and lets out a long breath.

By the time Lan Zhan's drooping eyes close, Wei Wuxian is already asleep.

Some unidentifiable sensation wakes Wei Wuxian. He cracks his eyes open, and bright morning light streams in. He closes them again, and turns his face back into the warm dark. It’s soft, softer than he remembers the bolster being. But then, the Cloud Recesses are full of fine things. He presses his face more firmly to it, but the slip of it is odd. As if fabric, or something like it, is lying on top of it. He rubs his face against it, trying to understand without opening his eyes and losing hold of the last vestiges of sleep. But the movement makes him aware of the odd shape against him. The way his arms are situated. And—

He startles back, remembering. Lan Zhan’s open eyes fix firmly somewhere around his collarbone, hair mussed dreadfully above him, where Wei Wuxian’s face lay. Their arms are around each other, their legs intertwined. It is because of this that Wei Wuxian can feel the steel tension wrought into every sinew of Lan Zhan’s body. The muscles at his throat strain visibly, and he doesn’t appear to be breathing. His ears are deepest red.

Wei Wuxian swallows hard, pressing down against the panic rising in his throat. He knows he should speak, should explain, or apologize, but the words spark in his mind and then die in a wash of memory. Last night’s mortification is still strong, his fears even stronger.

But as he stares, and Lan Zhan does not pull away, he recognizes that his tight expression does not look shocked, or disgusted, or even dismayed. It looks afraid. As afraid as Wei Wuxian feels.

He thinks, perhaps. As impossible as it has always seemed. That Lan Zhan might not have been as out of his right mind last night as Wei Wuxian told himself.

The trouble is, he doesn’t know how to ask. How to say it all again, on purpose in the light of day.

He does what he hopes is the next best thing to speaking, to saying any of the things he can’t repeat. Slowly, movements clear and careful, he draws them together again, his face in Lan Zhan’s hair, his hand running up and down his tense back. He feels Lan Zhan’s shocked breath against his jaw, his throat.

“Wei Ying?” comes the shaky whisper. As if he thinks, somehow, they are both still asleep. That they only need to be woken from the dream to go back to normal.

“I’m only leaving because I think it’s wrong to stay,” Wei Wuxian tells him, compelled to it by the uncertainty in his voice. It’s easier, not looking at him, to say just this small part. “But that’s wrong, too. Tell me what I should do, and I’ll do it, Lan Zhan. Tell me what you want.”

It’s Lan Zhan’s turn to draw back in surprise. He stares at him, searching, for a long time.

“What…happened?” he asks.

Wei Wuxian sighs.

“You drank liquor,” he murmurs into the quiet between them, close and intoxicating. He thinks he could get drunk himself on this, on being allowed to stay so near him. Which is one of the reasons he’s so long thought he shouldn’t. “It was an accident—my fault. But we just went to check on the rabbits, that’s all.”

Lan Zhan glances down at their bodies, at their limbs, the red of his ears washing across his cheeks. Wei Wuxian wants to follow it with kisses. He sweeps a thumb across it instead. Lan Zhan’s eyes go wide, then catch on the ribbon wound around his wrist. His mouth opens on a sharp intake of breath.

“And this,” Wei Wuxian amends. He hazards a stab at gaining some kind of clarity. “Do you still want me to have it?”

Lan Zhan’s gaze jerks away, and he freezes. Wei Wuxian can tell, now, that this is Lan Zhan afraid to speak. He feels suddenly desperate to take advantage of this chance to undo at least one mistake. To rewrite Lan Zhan’s distress of the night before.

“Lan Zhan.” He takes a steadying breath. “Can I kiss you?”

There’s the smallest, barest of gasps, and Wei Wuxian’s joints go weak at the way he can feel the expansion of Lan Zhan’s chest with his own body. It holds at bay the consuming fear that Lan Zhan will see things differently now, but then he watches his eyes fall once more. To his mouth. Lan Zhan’s face takes on almost the same heavy, dreamy quality as the night before. And just as he did then, he nods.

Like the slow lapping of cool water, realization, acceptance, and relief wash over Wei Wuxian’s entire body.

Gently, he kisses him. Just a soft press of mouths and breath. Lan Zhan stays tense in his arms, and he can feel the pounding of his pulse through the delicate skin of his lips. Hands fist in Wei Wuxian’s robes, unconscious in desperation. Wei Wuxian kisses him again, longer this time, firmer, and then again, because he can’t stop now, couldn’t if his life depended on it—he kisses him, and kisses him, and Lan Zhan lets him, until he’s suddenly kissing back. Hesitant and eager at once, and then determined, almost frenzied, and Wei Wuxian loses track of kisses and limbs and time altogether.

He gets lost in the instinctive, addictive push and pull, in the flaring and fading sparks of pleasure, in the glut of touch, and tongue, and Lan Zhan’s breath in his lungs. But when he presses too far, when his body begins to get ahead of them both, he stops. He pulls back, and breathes his own air.

He has to look away from Lan Zhan’s face, from his glazed-over gaze and his swollen, red mouth. His mind is going obscene, faced with the sight of him this way, altogether inappropriate for the circumstance.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan breathes.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes. “I told you, last night,” he says. He tries to think how to explain.

“I…remember,” says Lan Zhan.

“You do?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyes snapping open.

Hesitantly, uncertainly, Lan Zhan nods. “I did not think it was a memory.”

“Oh,” breathes Wei Wuxian, through the hurt of all the ways they’ve both been holding themselves back from the truth. “Then just tell me: What do you want?”

Lan Zhan’s breath, his voice, are shaky, when finally he speaks.

“Anything you wish—” He cuts off, then starts again. “Anything you want.”

He opens his mouth as if to say more, but stops, at a loss. He’s still staring, his focus sharp yet wilder than Wei Wuxian has ever seen it. He looks almost ready to fall apart again. Wei Wuxian can’t stand the idea, especially not now that he knows he can stop it.

He winds his arms more securely around him, and pulls him close. Holds him tight.

“Everything, then,” he says, his heart light in his chest, fluttering with new, downy wings. “Always. Can we do that?”

Lan Zhan clutches him back, his breaths coming harder.

“Wei Ying. We can.”

They stay there, intertwined, late into the morning. They kiss between long bouts of disbelieving stares, and smiles, and murmured questions and answers. The day only truly begins when Lan Zhan huffs something akin to a laugh, and Wei Wuxian abruptly decides he can’t stay in bed a moment longer or he will well and truly burst into flame.

Getting up has the opposite of the desired calming effect. Lan Zhan’s soft, indulgent smile sets him off again, and he has the inspired idea to kiss it off his face.

They don’t leave the house until after lunch, which garners less disapproving stares, but more pointedly averted eyes.

Wei Wuxian can live with that. He’s still very much on his best behavior, even if he can no longer claim to be causing no trouble at all. Lan Zhan, with his hand firmly in Wei Wuxian’s, certainly doesn’t seem to mind. And that’s all that matters.

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