Chapter Text
The following Friday is a clear and sunny day, and Wei Wuxian enters Lan Wangji’s office at lunchtime, bearing a cup of tea and a bowl of liang pi.
“No chili oil,” he promises.
“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says, accepting the lunch.
“Also, this,” Wei Wuxian says, extending a folder toward him. He studies Lan Wangji carefully before he continues speaking. “It’s the final report on the extraction project,” he says quietly.
Lan Wangji goes perfectly still, holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze for a long, taut moment before he slowly reaches out to take the report.
“I see,” he says quietly, stomach churning with sickly dread.
“Truthfully, it should have been done a week ago, but I was dragging my feet,” Wei Wuxian confesses. “So I didn’t charge you for the last five days.”
Lan Wangji nods mechanically. “That’s very generous of you.”
“Not really,” Wei Wuxian says lightly. “Just honest. Never let it be said that I took advantage of you.”
“Certainly not,” Lan Wangji says, his heart clenching in his chest.
Wei Wuxian comes around his desk and perches on the edge, regarding Lan Wangji with soft, affectionate eyes. Lan Wangji is itching to touch him, but he holds himself back, trepidation twisting in his gut.
“I have to go, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says gently.
It’s like a knife to Lan Wangji’s heart. “To Yiling?”
“Seattle.”
The knife twists and slices upward, eviscerating him completely.
“I always intended to go back,” Wei Wuxian is saying, voice low and almost soothing. “My life is there, and I’ve been away longer than I originally planned. Things are established in Yiling now, and I won’t need to be back for months.”
“I see,” Lan Wangji says again, voice strained.
Wei Wuxian reaches out a hand, gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind Lan Wangji’s ear, and Lan Wangji turns his face into the touch, suddenly desolate, closing his eyes and brushing his lips against Wei Wuxian’s palm. He’s trying hard not to shake.
“Come with me,” Wei Wuxian whispers, and Lan Wangji’s eyes fly open.
“Come with me,” Wei Wuxian repeats, running his thumb across Lan Wangji’s cheek. “I want us to live together in Seattle. I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning. I want you to force me out of bed and make me breakfast. I want to make two portions for every dinner, one spicy and one bland. I want to kiss you every day, to hold you every day. I want you with me, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji stares at him, heart bleeding, and he thinks he might cry.
“If you don’t,” Wei Wuxian says, voice just a touch unsteady, “if you can’t, then I’ll be back every few months or so to see you. But Lan Zhan, I want to be with you for real. Not long-distance, not part-time. I want you for always.”
Lan Wangji exhales shakily, trying to collect himself.
“Please say yes,” Wei Wuxian whispers.
Lan Wangji can feel himself resettling inside his body. He can feel his nerves come alive and start to sing. He finds his voice at last.
“I will need two months,” he says. “Possibly three.”
Wei Wuxian lets out the breath he’s been holding, shoulders relaxing as his whole face collapses in giddy relief. “Lan Zhan…”
“That should be enough time to hire and transition my replacement, and I will need to sell the apartment.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, smile blossoming across his face as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Oh, Lan Zhan!”
Wei Wuxian surges forward to kiss him, leaning forward off the desk and grabbing Lan Wangji’s face between his hands. Lan Wangji kisses back until Wei Wuxian pulls away so he can pepper Lan Wangji’s face with butterfly kisses, flitting around so rapidly it almost makes Lan Wangji dizzy.
“I’m so happy,” Wei Wuxian breathes out between kisses. “Lan Zhan, I’m so fucking happy I could die!”
“Please don’t,” Lan Wangji says. “I have plans for you.”
“You do?” Wei Wuxian pulls back, eyes wet and shining with joy.
“Yes. I plan to keep you. Remember?”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes spilling over. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, pulling Wei Wuxian off the desk and into his lap.
It’s a bit of a precarious position since the chair has wheels, but they make it work, and Lan Wangji kisses Wei Wuxian, deeply and thoroughly, Wei Wuxian’s happy tears staining Lan Wangji’s cheeks.
Wei Wuxian pulls back just enough to kiss both of Lan Wangji’s eyelids, then he rests their foreheads together and inhales deeply, breathing Lan Wangji in. When he speaks, his voice is low and serious.
“Lan Zhan, I have a request.”
“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks.
Wei Wuxian pulls back far enough so that they can make eye contact, eyes imploring.
“I want you to bring your mother’s piano with you. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay for it, but I want you to keep it. You have to keep it, Lan Zhan.”
“That’s not necessary,” Lan Wangji says. “I will pay to have it shipped.”
“Let me do this for you,” Wei Wuxian insists. “I want to. I want you to play again.”
“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji, infinitely fond.
“Will you play again, Lan Zhan? Even just for yourself?”
“I think I will,” he says, and he realises he means it.
“I want you to play again,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “I want that for you so badly. Lan Zhan, it’s time you concentrated on the things that feed your soul.”
Lan Wangji just looks at him, taking him in, one detail at a time, overwhelmed with affection.
“You can do whatever you want,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Whatever makes you happy, whatever that looks like, I will support you. Even if it takes you years to figure it out, I will support you.”
“Years?” Lan Wangji says, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, years,” Wei Wuxian affirms. “I have more than enough money and business coming in to support us both.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lan Wangji assures him. “I have a considerable sum in savings. I inherited a trust from my mother when I turned 25.”
“My point still stands,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Whatever you need, however you need it, everything I have is at your disposal. I will move heaven and earth to keep you happy, Lan Zhan.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, touched by Wei Wuxian’s declarations. “You already make me happy.”
“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, kissing him soundly. “But I think you can be happier.”
“I doubt that,” Lan Wangji replies. He is so full of gratitude at this moment, so full of love, that he thinks he might burst with it.
“Challenge accepted,” Wei Wuxian grins, kissing him one more time before disentangling himself and standing up.
Lan Wangji keeps a hold on his hand, and he gives him a little tug.
“When do you have to leave?” he asks. Whatever the answer is, Lan Wangji knows he’s going to hate it.
“Monday,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “We have the weekend,” he says. “And then it’ll just be a temporary goodbye. We’re making this happen, Lan Zhan.”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. He stands as well and embraces Wei Wuxian again. “Yes, Wei Ying. We are.”
“I love you so much,” Wei Wuxian whispers.
They cling to each other for another few minutes, swaying slightly, before Wei Wuxian sighs and pulls away. He kisses Lan Wangji lightly on the lips and steps back out of the circle of Lan Wangji’s arms.
“I’d better go touch base with Wen Qing before she takes off. She’s catching an overnight flight tonight.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. “I need to take this report to my Uncle.”
“When will you tell him?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Immediately,” Lan Wangji replies, determination in his voice.
He’s done wasting time.
Wei Wuxian gives him a tentative look, and a shadow of doubt ghosts across his face.
“Do not worry,” Lan Wangji assures him. “I shall not be persuaded. Not by any means.” He takes a step forward and runs the back of his knuckles along Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “I am choosing you, Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, clutching dramatically at his chest as his eyes well up again. “My poor heart.”
Lan Wangji can feel his face softening. He can feel the edges of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I will see you tonight,” he says, voice warm.
“See you tonight, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian smiles.
Lan Wangji watches as Wei Wuxian slips out of his office, and he cradles that smile in his heart. He carries it with him as he scoops up the report and heads down the hall, feeling how delicate and precious it is. He has something to protect, he thinks.
He will not fail to keep it safe this time.
---
Lan Qiren’s face is like a stormcloud, dour and grey, the lightning lurking somewhere deep within his eyes. But it never strikes; it dissipates like mist, leaving his gaze cool and placid.
Lan Wangji stands in front of his desk, back ramrod straight, holding eye contact with his uncle and willing himself to stay calm. It’s surprisingly easy. His newfound conviction is deeply rooted; He’s at peace with his choice, and nothing his uncle could possibly say will dislodge it. He knows it with all of his heart.
Lan Qiren sighs at last, his eyes falling to the report on his desk. “You are absolutely certain?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies. “You can expect my formal resignation on your desk on Monday.”
His uncle closes his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working, but he remains calm, and when he opens his eyes again, he is regarding Lan Wangji with a tired, regretful look.
“You will be giving up so much,” his uncle says.
“I will be gaining much more,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly.
“You will have no regrets, then?”
“No,” Lan Wangji says with confidence. He is finished with regrets.
Lan Qiren drops his eyes again, face pained and thoughtful.
“I have only ever wanted what I thought was best for you,” his uncle says, voice low. “But I know you have not been happy.”
Lan Wangji remains silent, holding his breath.
“Will this make you happy, Wangji?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji exhales. “It will.”
Lan Qiren closes his eyes again, and his whole body seems to sigh in resignation.
“Very well, then,” he says, opening his eyes to fix Lan Wangji with a sad, weary stare. “You have my blessing.”
Lan Wangji’s throat suddenly feels terribly constricted.
“Thank you, Uncle,” he manages to get out.
Lan Qiren nods, then turns back to the papers on his desk. “That will be all, then.”
Lan Wangji turns to leave.
“Wangji,” his uncle suddenly calls, and Lan Wangji pauses with his hand on the door.
“I am sorry, Wangji.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t turn around.
“I know,” he says.
He exits his uncle’s office and heads back down the hall, the door clicking shut behind him.
---
The weekend flies by far too quickly, and soon, Lan Wangji is at the airport, embracing Wei Wuxian in a long, bittersweet goodbye. Wei Wuxian buries his face in Lan Wangji’s neck, inhaling deeply and shaking just a little. Lan Wangji thinks he can feel moisture on his neck.
When Wei Wuxian pulls back, his eyes are wet and luminous, a soft, honeyed smile unfurling on his face.
“I’ll message you every day,” he promises, leaning back in to press their lips lightly together. “And I’ll video call you every week. I’m going to miss you so much, Er-gege!”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, throat tight and heart aching sweetly.
“Just a few months,” Wei Wuxian says, half to himself. “It’s just a few months.”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. “I will join you as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be counting down the days,” Wei Wuxian smiles, punctuating his words with a long, firm kiss.
“Go,” Lan Wangji says, giving his arms a squeeze. “You need to get through security.”
Wei Wuxian nods, a single tear escaping his right eye. Lan Wangji wipes it away with his thumb.
“I love you,” Wei Wuxian chokes out.
Lan Wangji leans in and kisses Wei Wuxian’s forehead.
“Everything,” he whispers.
Wei Wuxian lets out a waterlogged laugh. He presses their lips together one last time, and then he pushes off of Lan Wangji’s chest and heads swiftly for security, not turning back before he disappears around the corner.
Lan Wangji takes a deep breath and heads back to his car.
He has a lot of work to do.
---
His brother is silent and pensive on the other end of the call, his face drawn and his eyes downcast. He’s so still, it’s almost as if he’s not breathing, and Lan Wangji notes the slope of his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes, and the almost imperceptible downturn of his mouth. There’s no tension there, nothing coiled or taut, just a natural submission to gravity. There’s something soft and defenseless about him, something mournful and accepting.
It looks a lot like heartbreak.
“Has he tried to contact you?” Lan Wangji asks.
“No,” Lan Xichen replies softly. “Not yet.”
There’s another long pause before Lan Xichen shifts, lifting his gaze back up to look into the camera.
“Has he persisted in his offer to you?” Lan Xichen asks.
Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I officially declined for the final time last week.”
Jin Guangyao had replied to his email with one last attempt to persuade him, but Lan Wangji had been quick and firm in his rebuttal. Jin Guangyao has not contacted him since.
“What will you do?” Lan Wangji wants to know.
His brother closes his eyes and sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping just a touch more.
“I don’t know,” he confesses. “If he called me right now, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“What do you want to do?” Lan Wangji probes.
“I want to forgive him,” Lan Xichen says, voice quiet and eyes sad. “I want to believe him. I want that more than anything.”
“You promised Nie Mingjue that you’d cut ties with him,” Lan Wangji states. “Why make such a promise if you’re uncertain of his guilt?”
“Because I cannot be sure of his innocence,” Lan Xichen says. “There are things that he’s said, things that he’s done, and pain that he’s caused that I cannot ignore. Whether or not he started the fire is almost inconsequential to me. His actions in the aftermath had such a drastic effect on Nie Mingjue. He conducted the business of selling the storehouses entirely behind his back. It was a true betrayal.”
Lan Xichen lowers his eyes again, sorrow written across his face.
“My forgiveness is not the forgiveness he needs, and I was wrong back then, when I begged Nie Mingjue to give it to him. It was selfish of me. I wanted desperately for there to be peace between two beloved friends, but I wanted it as much for my own sake as for theirs. And you cannot have peace when you do not have trust.”
His brother looks up at the camera again, regretful eyes wet.
“Affection remains, but in the absence of trust, what bond can there be?”
Lan Wangji swallows thickly, feeling a rush of sympathy for his brother. He wonders about his brother’s life, lived across an ocean in the grey streets of London. He wonders if Lan Xichen’s apartment is ever filled with spirited conversation these days, crowded with close friends like it had been in university. He wonders if his brother is lonely.
“I broke your trust once,” Lan Xichen says, startling Lan Wangji out of his reverie. “I helped facilitate great harm to you.”
Lan Wangji swallows again, his throat constricted and suddenly dry.
“It’s fine,” he says quickly, a little desperately. He hadn’t been expecting this turn in the conversation, and Lan Wangji doesn’t know if he’s ready for it.
“Oh, Wangji,” Lan Xichen breathes, his brow furrowed in remorse. “If I could ask for one thing, if I could just change one fate, it would be yours. You deserved so much more, so much better, than the unkindness we enacted on you.”
“I didn’t—You weren’t— “ Lan Wangji struggles to find the words, to speak past the sudden, unbearable clenching of his heart. “I understand why you did it,” he manages to get out.
“That doesn’t mean it was right, or that it wasn’t cruel,” Lan Xichen says. “Please, Wangji. Let me apologise. Let me be sorry. Allow me to carry my share of the guilt. You’ve shouldered it for far too long.”
Lan Wangji lets out a long, shaky breath, eyes glued to his brother’s face on the screen.
“I’m sorry, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says. “I’m so sorry.”
Lan Wangji closes his eyes against the sting of tears, holding back the tangled knot of sorrow uncoiling behind his heart. He wants to protest; he wants to assure his brother that he’s already forgiven him, that everything is fine, and that he’s done looking backward.
But it wouldn’t be true. Not entirely. Some scars have never healed, and Lan Wangji has always been afraid to examine the ones inflicted by his family. Acceptance is not the same as forgiveness, and Lan Wangji has never looked his brother in the eye and acknowledged the role that Lan Xichen had played, all those years ago.
It hurts. And it rankles, a little, to be made to stare this old wound in the face. But Lan Wangji can’t find it in himself to be truly angry. He is weary of pain and misery. He’s ready to let it all go. Lan Wangji inhales deeply, and he feels a calmness settle over him as he breathes through the sorrow, exhaling regret and reaching for gratitude.
His brother has given him a gift. It would be best to accept it.
“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says as he opens his eyes and locks gazes with Lan Xichen. “Thank you, Brother.”
Lan Xichen smiles, soft and honest and true. They sit in silence for a while, both of them adjusting to the new and delicate space between them.
“So, what happens for you now, Wangji?” his brother asks at last. “What will you do?”
Lan Wangji considers his answer. In all honesty, he hasn’t given too much thought as to what happens after he lands in America; he’s been too preoccupied with the preparations for actually getting there. Forms to sign, visas to acquire, immigration lawyers to contact and consult.
“I’m not sure,” he confesses. “I only know that it will involve music.”
“I’m so glad,” Lan Xichen says. “You’re really going to play again.”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, full of resolve.
This is his plan, and this is his promise.
He will play, and he will love.
---
In the end, the piano arrives first.
The shipping fees are exactly as exorbitant as Lan Wangji expected, and Wei Wuxian insists on paying for it, just like he promised he would. He messages Lan Wangji a picture of the piano, safely ensconced against the wall in what used to be a second bedroom. Wei Wuxian has cleared it out to make it into a music room, and Lan Wangji is touched by his efforts.
Wei Ying: She’s waiting for you!
Be sure to leave sufficient space between the back of the piano and the wall.
Wei Ying: Hahah, okay, I’ll move it!
Thank you.
Wei Ying: I’m waiting for you, too
Soon.
Soon turns out to be August, and Lan Wangji deplanes in Seattle on a grey, cloudy morning. Wei Wuxian is waiting for him at the international arrivals exit, looking vibrant and radiant, and he throws himself into Lan Wangji’s arms as soon as Lan Wangji is clear of the barrier.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes into his neck. “Lan Zhan, I missed you so much!”
Lan Wangji presses a firm kiss to his temple and holds him tight, savouring the weight of him against his body. Wei Wuxian pulls back far enough to find his lips, and they share a long, slow kiss amidst the swirling crowd of new arrivals, completely lost in each other.
“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says as he breaks the kiss to tug on Lan Wangji’s hand. “Let’s get out of here. You’re probably exhausted.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, letting himself be led. He’s tired, but he’s also elated, his senses running high after nearly fifteen hours of in-flight anticipation.
The air is crisp and clean, fresh in a way that reminds him of the back hills in the mountains of Gusu, and it comforts him as he steps out into the open, inhaling deeply and feeling the tension of the flight melt away. Wei Wuxian leads him to his car, and Wei Wuxian drives home with one hand periodically on Lan Wangji’s thigh. Lan Wangji dozes, soothed by the motion of the car. Soon, they’ve arrived at Wei Wuxian’s apartment building, and Lan Wangji finds himself riding up in the elevator with Wei Wuxian’s hand in his own.
“It’s not much,” Wei Wuxian says as he unlocks the door and rolls Lan Wangji’s luggage inside. “But it’s home.”
Lan Wangji steps over the threshold and lets the door click shut behind him.
“Welcome home,” Wei Wuxian says, smile radiant, and then he is in Lan Wangji’s arms, lips hot and body pressed tightly against him in a firm, solid line.
Lan Wangji finds that he is not too tired to fall into Wei Wuxian, to let himself be coaxed and lured into the bedroom, tumbled into the sheets, and thoroughly ravished. They grasp at each other, clinging sweetly, pouring the last three months' worth of long-distance yearning into their fervent, tender touches. When it’s over, Lan Wangji collapses into Wei Wuxian’s arms, spent and boneless, the exhaustion of travel finally overtaking him.
“Sleep,” Wei Wuxian purrs, stroking Lan Wangji’s hair, and Lan Wangji can only comply, drifting off with the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s fingers running softly over his scalp.
---
He wakes up to Wei Wuxian shaking him gently, the soft light from the window playing against the far wall.
“Hey, love,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low and soothing. “You should get up. We’ll have an early dinner and then you can go back to bed, hmm? Get you settled in this timezone.”
Lan Wangji nods groggily, letting himself be manhandled into a sitting position, loving the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s hands on him, real and solid and insistent. He comes fully awake as Wei Wuxian joins him in the shower, the two of them luxuriating in each other’s bodies until the hot water runs out.
“Let’s go out to eat,” Wei Wuxian says, doing up the buttons on Lan Wangji’s shirt. “There’s an amazing vegetarian Vietnamese place where I’d love to take you. It’s so good, even I don’t miss the meat.”
“Mn,” agrees Lan Wangji, letting himself be fussed over as Wei Wuxian picks an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. He knows Wei Wuxian is just looking for excuses to touch him, but he hardly minds.
They leave the apartment hand in hand, walking leisurely toward their destination. It’s a small, family-owned restaurant with a bright, modern interior, all white brick with natural wood, and the occasional lime green accent. It’s casual and counter service, and Wei Wuxian snags a menu off the counter, quickly scanning the list of dishes.
“Want me to order for us?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Please,” Lan Wangji says, happy to relinquish control. He’s feeling remarkably relaxed.
He’s content, he realises.
Wei Wuxian orders something called a rickety rickshaw bowl and a golden temple soup. They grab their order number and go to find a table, Wei Wuxian selecting a bright, well lit corner by the window. When the food arrives, it is fresh, fragrant and colourful. Steam curls off a light turmeric and coconut broth teeming with tofu and vegetables, and springy vermicelli noodles are buried beneath shredded beancurd, pickled daikon, Thai basil, and roasted peanuts.
They share everything, eating mostly in silence, and Lan Wangji discovers he is actually very hungry. They finish their bowls and Wei Wuxian goes back to the counter to place an order for taro chips with garlic aioli, snagging two tamarind sodas while he’s there. He comes back to the table with his spoils, and the two of them pick slowly at the taro chips, happy and unhurried.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Wei Wuxian says, extending his hand along the table. Lan Wangji takes it in his own, giving Wei Wuxian’s fingers a squeeze.
“I must have pinched myself and come in to check on you sleeping at least a dozen times,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Just to make sure you were real. That you’re here, and that this is real.”
Lan Wangji hums in agreement. He knows that feeling. He can scarcely believe it himself. But there’s a lightness in his chest, the absence of a gloomy pressure that’s been there for over a decade allowing him to feel the bright things more acutely. His melancholy is still there, but it’s no longer an omnipresent shroud. It’s beaten and tattered, and Lan Wangji is confident that with time, the shadows will begin to fade.
“I was hoping to coax you into things a little bit more gradually, but I think we’re going to have to hit the ground running,” Wei Wuxian says.
“Oh?” Lan Wangji asks, curious.
“My lease is up in a few months,” Wei Wuxian explains. “And I was thinking, we should get a new place together. That way, you wouldn’t just be moving into my place. We’d be getting a fresh start, and it would really be ours.”
“I like that idea,” Lan Wangji says, suffused with sudden warmth. The idea of really making a home with Wei Wuxian, of building it together, fills him with a quiet joy.
“In fact,” Wei Wuxian says, “I was thinking we could buy a place? Only if you want to,” he adds quickly. “I know you just sold your apartment, and you don’t have to reinvest that money right away, but I thought—“
“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies immediately, not waiting for Wei Wuxian to finish his thought. “I would like to buy a home with you, Wei Ying.”
“Really?” The hope that blossoms in Wei Wuxian’s eyes is truly beautiful. “You really want to?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji avers. “I want to.”
“That’s just… That’s just perfect, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says, eyes shining. “How are you so perfect?”
Lan Wangji gives his hand a squeeze.
“This is so great,” Wei Wuxian enthuses. “I’m so glad we got that settled!”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, overflowing with affection.
Wei Wuxian’s face becomes serious. Determined.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, voice level. “There’s one more thing.”
“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks.
Wei Wuxian digs around in his jacket pocket with his free hand, coming out with a small, black box. He places it on the table next to their joined hands, his eyes fixed on Lan Wangji’s face.
Lan Wangji blinks at him. “Wei Ying?”
“Open it,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes resolute.
Lan Wangji disentangles his fingers and opens the box. Inside is a simple ring of burnished white gold, gleaming in the diffused light from the cloudy evening outside the window.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
“Marry me, Lan Zhan.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji exhales. It sounds like a plea.
“I know it may seem sudden, but Lan Zhan, we’ve been waiting for each other for almost 13 years. We could go get the marriage license tomorrow, and I’d be ready. We’d have to wait three days to use it, of course, but the point is, I want to marry you. A lot.”
Lan Wangji stares at him. He thinks his heart might give out.
“I’d marry you right this instant if I could,” Wei Wuxian continues. “I’m done wasting time. Please say yes, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji finds his voice at last, love rushing up his windpipe, unfreezing his vocal cords.
“Yes,” he answers, a little wet, a little hoarse. “Wei Ying, yes.”
The smile that blossoms across Wei Wuxian’s face takes what’s left of Lan Wangji’s breath away.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes welling up. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no!”
“As if I could ever say no to you,” Lan Wangji says, voice earnest. “Not in this. Not in anything.”
“Careful,” Wei Wuxian laughs, eyes spilling over. “You’ll spoil me, Er-gege.”
“I hope to,” Lan Wangji says. “I would give you anything, Wei Ying.”
“All I want is you,” Wei Wuxian gushes. “Just you.”
“You have me,” Lan Wangji vows.
“I know!” Wei Wuxian crows. “Can you believe it?” He fumbles with the box, extracting the ring and slipping it onto Lan Wangji’s finger. “There!” he says, satisfied. “Now it’s official. No take backs!”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji says.
“Now I can let you out without worrying,” Wei Wuxian babbles. “Can you imagine? Letting you walk around otherwise, looking the way that you look. Someone might steal you! This is much better. Yes, better put a ring on it.”
Lan Wangji smiles, the barest curve of his lips. “Beyonce?”
“Beyonce!” Wei Wuxian declares. “She taught me well.”
“Won’t you need one too?” Lan Wangji asks.
“I have it already,” Wei Wuxian confesses. “It’s in my top drawer at home.”
“You’ve really thought about this,” Lan Wangji says.
“Lan Zhan, I’ve had three months to think about very little else,” Wei Wuxian says, smile soft and serene. “I love you, Lan Zhan. I love you so much.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. It sounds like forever.
“Kiss me, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji leans over and catches Wei Wuxian’s lips with his own. It’s a little awkward with the table between them. It’s a little salty, a little spicy from the chili oil with which Wei Wuxian had doused his dinner, and it’s all a little bit perfect.
Happiness flutters like a moth in Lan Wangji’s chest, light, and rapid, and insistent, and Lan Wangji gives himself up to the beating of his reborn heart.
---
February, 2020
When Lan Wangji is 30 years old, he steps out onto the sprawling deck of an old heritage house and takes Wei Wuxian by the hand. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide and laughing, sparking with joyful mirth.
It’s another perfect, cloudy day. The rain has held off, but Lan Wangji can tell that there’s a thunderstorm brewing. It’s a feeling in the air, a delicious tension, an electric haze that suffuses the space between the earth and the sky.
His brother is there, as is his uncle, sitting in the front row with Auntie Yu and Uncle Jiang to their left. Nie Huaisang fans himself furiously while Jiang Cheng glowers affectionately. Jiang Yanli bounces a babbling Jin Ling on her lap, and Wen Qing sits imperiously next to a sniffling Wen Ning and a beatific Luo Qingyang.
He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t falter.
He maybe cries a little.
Lan Wangji marries the love of his life, and he never looks back.
Fin