Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian was asleep when Lan Wangji returned to the inn.
They had intended to set off after notifying the town that the spirit haunting the water spring had been pacified – as it turned out, it was the native spirit of the spring, offended by the digging of a new well that tapped into a shared water source. They had settled the matter for the time being, but any future wells or changes in the irrigation of the town’s fields might rile the spirit again. And so, when they had returned, Lan Wangji had gone to explain the circumstances to the town leader, while Wei Wuxian had continued on to the inn to gather their things and settle their accounts.
Part of him would really have preferred that their roles had been reversed, but Wei Wuxian had correctly pointed out that the reputation of Hanguang-jun would definitely improve the odds of the townsfolk actually listening to their warnings, while the presence of the Yiling Patriarch would probably be counterproductive. One did not reverse years of malicious whispering in a month. There was a reason why Wei Wuxian was perfectly content to pass as a random rogue cultivator.
Except that the town headman would not stop talking. It never ceased to amaze Lan Wangji, how much some people loved the sound of their own voices. Which meant it had been several hours before he finally managed to escape, and when he arrived at their room, it was to see their things packed and ready, and Wei Wuxian lying across the bed, napping.
He stood in the doorway, just… looking.
It was not that he lacked for opportunities to watch his partner sleep. They might fit each other so well as to be two halves of a single whole, but at the same time they were each their own person, with their own individual preferences. Not least among those the fact that a lifetime of habit meant that Lan Wangji always defaulted to the dictated sleep schedule of the Gusu Lan in the absence of reason to do otherwise. Likewise, Wei Wuxian preferred not to sleep until the night was half gone, and to rise only when the sun was already high.
In the end, however, what might have seemed like a mismatch had proven practical. Lan Wangji would retire at his preferred hour – often in Wei Wuxian’s company. But once he was asleep, Wei Wuxian would get up again, and spend the night hours meditating and training, watching the camp or exploring the sleeping streets of whatever town they had stopped in, enjoying the nighttime quiet.
Then he would slip back to join Lan Wangji in bed, until Lan Wangji woke in turn a few hours later to practice his own meditation and train, and to make whatever final preparations they needed to set out quickly after Wei Wuxian woke.
It was certainly not the most efficient system. But they were wandering for now, with no particular destination or timetable. There was something… deeply relaxing about taking the time for each of them to treasure their own routines.
So he was far from unfamiliar with watching Wei Wuxian sleep – treasured those morning hours, in fact, understanding the trust they represented as well as giving him time to gather his thoughts in quiet. But… there was something different about this, seeing the other peacefully still and painted with golden highlights by the afternoon sun.
Wei Wuxian’s hair was a river of shining black, a small section of it tumbling over his shoulder while the rest fanned across the neatly made bedding behind him. He was lying on his side, head resting on the crook of one bent elbow, and the afternoon sun made a band of bright gold light across the side of his face.
At moments like this, the sheer enormity of it all thundered down on him in a torrent – that he could be standing here, looking at Wei Wuxian sleeping. Alive. As if the past thirteen years of sorrow and regrets was nothing but a nightmare he’d finally awakened from.
(Sometimes, it was the other way around, when he woke in a cold sweat, terrified that the past months had been the dream, and that the world would be empty again when he opened his eyes. The last time that had happened, Wei Wuxian had laughingly suggested that Lan Wangji simply carry him about for the day, like a child with a security blanket.)
(He had. It helped. Although half of that had been Wei Wuxian’s helpless laughter as Lan Wangji walked through the latest town with his partner tucked under his arm like a misbehaving kitten.)
Smiling slightly, he stepped into the room, careful not to walk too quietly – like anyone who had survived the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian reacted poorly to sensing someone attempting to be stealthy as he slept. And unlike the other survivors, he had not had the benefit of almost an entire decade and a half to blunt those old reflexes.
Crossing to the bed, Lan Wangji looked down at the man. A stray lock of hair had escaped his high tail, as usual, and was lying across the man’s cheek, and Lan Wangji’s fingers twitched with the urge to brush it away.
And he could. That was the part, sometimes, that was hardest to believe. Almost twenty years of wanting, of misunderstanding, of thinking that there would always be that final barrier that he would never cross. But he had permission, now. Permission to touch, permission to hold. Permission to stay. To keep.
The only thing stopping him, right now, was that he did not want to wake his husband.
Unfortunately, that proved to be a lost cause. As he approached, Wei Wuxian’s brows twitched down and he shifted slightly, before his eyes flickered open.
“Lan Zhan? Did I fall asleep?”
His voice was still sleep-slurred, and Lan Wangji couldn’t help the way his smile widened. “Mn.”
Wei Wuxian’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “I know, I know – shameless, right?” His eyes drifted to the patch of sunlight sliding onto the far side of the room, and then blinked, widening as he took in the color and angle. Sitting up, he blurted, “Wait, what time is it?”
“Late,” Lan Wangji said flatly. It was, perhaps, an exaggeration; it was only midafternoon still, but…
Wei Wuxian looked at his face and laughed. “Poor Lan Zhan!” he said, grinning. “Did they talk your ears off?”
“Mn.”
Still chuckling, Wei Wuxian bounced up onto his feet. “Maybe next time we should just have this Yiling Laozu terrify them into good behavior,” he suggested cheerfully, raising his arms over his head in a full-body stretch that arched his back in a way that Lan Wangji watched with open appreciation.
Although the appreciation wasn’t just pleasure. When Wei Wuxian had first returned to the living, Mo Xuanyu’s body had been unhealthily thin from years of insufficient food or care. Over the months that they had spent solving the mystery of the severed arm, Wei Wuxian had managed to at least achieve a healthy weight, but between stress and travel and injuries and the need to maintain reserves against possible dangers, outside of the time they’d spent waiting for the cultivation conference there had been no opportunity for him to work at building his new body’s strength.
But their leisurely pace in the time since the final confrontation in the temple had offered more freedom, and the results were beginning to show. Mo Xuanyu’s body was naturally slender, but his shoulders had broadened, both from new muscle and from losing the defensive hunch that must have been Mo Xuanyu’s habitual posture. His arms had hardened as well, gaining definition as well as strength and endurance he had once lacked.
There was something… deeply satisfying, seeing the physical mark of Wei Wuxian’s new body slowly changing as he built back the strength and skill that had once been his pride and joy.
Of course, as the man’s lover, Lan Wangji also found the view satisfying for other reasons.
From the sly grin as he lowered his arms again, Wei Wuxian knew exactly what thoughts were on Lan Wangji’s mind. But instead of commenting, he reached over to the bags waiting on the table. “I suppose we’ll have to camp tonight, then,” he noted, picking his own up. “There’s no way we’re making it to Dunhuang today.”
True. “We could wait.” Not that either of them objected to sleeping rough. Still, they were nearing the end of the harvest season, which meant that the bitter cold of winter could set in any day. Cold alone hardly presented a threat to two experienced cultivators, but not a threat did not exactly mean preferable.
Wei Wuxian shook his head, tossing Lan Wangji’s bag to him. “I already squared things with the innkeeper, and they’re getting ready for the last of the harvest caravans. They wouldn’t mind the money, I’m sure, but they’d rather not have us underfoot.” He paused, eyes glinting with mischievous amusement. “Not to mention, I’m sure the stables are eager for Little Apple to be anywhere else.”
…Fair.
Still. “There is no need to hurry.” Which was itself a striking thought. His time may have always been his own, as an adult at least. But every journey had implicitly included expectations of a timely return. This time, however…
Well. This time, he was quite content to stay away until they were good and ready to return. He and Wei Wuxian had already paid their fair share and more to correct the past wrongs of the cultivation world. Let the sect leaders actually solve some problems themselves for a change.
He was, perhaps, a bit bitter still.
“But it’s Dunhuang!” Wei Wuxian countered, bouncing a little as his eyes sparkled. “The Jade Gate to the western desert! The mountain passes will close soon for the winter, and then there won’t be any more traders coming through, and where’s the fun in that?” He paused, smiling ruefully. “I mean, I realize you’ve been there before…”
Yes. More than once, in fact, traveling the very edges of sect lands that rarely saw anything but rogue cultivators. And if that also meant it was far from the politics and pressures of the sects… well. There was a reason the two of them had come this way after the events of the Second Siege and Yunping, beyond Wei Wuxian’s interest in seeing distant lands.
Except…
It was nearly winter, and while storms were no great threat so close to the desert, the caravans would mostly have finished their travels for the season by now. Even if they had set out straight from Yunping and made their way here with all haste, they would still have arrived too late for the great trade markets. Wei Wuxian knew that even better than Lan Wangji did, from his experience as Yunmeng Jiang’s head disciple. But while he’d expressed particular interest in visiting the city from the beginning, he had never once pushed them to hurry there. Just as he wasn’t truly pushing now.
Lan Wangji drew in a careful breath. There was something his husband wasn’t telling him. Which made a part of Lan Wangji want to grab and shake him, because the last secrets Wei Wuxian had kept… well.
(His golden core. The fact that he was alive again.)
But…
Wei Wuxian was waiting for his response, a smile playing on his lips. But not the blindingly bright smile of artful innocence that he used to mask pain or fear (or an incoming prank). A quieter smile, small and knowing and slightly wry.
Lan Wangji huffed a little bit and yielded. So. Wei Wuxian was keeping secrets. It wasn’t exactly unusual. But at least he was willing to acknowledge that there was something he was not telling Lan Wangji – and that Lan Wangji was aware of the fact.
Wei Wuxian must have read some of that on his face, because the man’s eyes softened. He stepped close, catching Lan Wangji by the back of the head and pulling him down for a light kiss, and then drew back – but only enough to press their foreheads together.
“I’ll explain,” he promised. “Later. For now… well. I don’t even know if I’ll find what I’m looking for.”
That only made Lan Wangji more curious, actually. After thirteen years, and the revelations that had followed, it was hard to imagine that Wei Wuxian could have any significant secrets remaining – particularly in a remote outpost that he had never had the opportunity to visit in his previous life. And he had hardly had any time since his return for new secrets.
But the man only grinned at Lan Wangji’s disgruntlement – and then laughed when a far more disgruntled braying interrupted the moment.
“And that’s our cue to leave!” he said cheerfully, pulling away and turning towards the door.
Lan Wangji caught his trailing hand and let himself be pulled along behind him.