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“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says one day, watching his husband’s slender, calloused fingers deftly peel an orange for him, “let’s build a house. Just for us. What do you think?”
And Lan Zhan, gently placing the slices in Wei Wuxian’s open hands, gives his complete assent.
“We do not have to purchase the first plot of land we see, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, letting Wei Wuxian swing their linked hands together as they walk. “There is no rush.”
“I know we’re not in a hurry, but imagine it, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says, squeezing his hand. “Me, coming home with several bushels of wheat in our cart after a successful day’s work, then eating the dinner that you painstakingly prepared for us—mmph!”
Lan Zhan had swooped down to press a quick kiss to Wei Wuxian’s lips. “After which we will have a bath, then rest together until morning,” he murmurs, making Wei Wuxian rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he laughs, “you really do pay attention to all of my ramblings, don’t you?”
“Each one of my husband’s thoughts is important. How can he fault me for keeping track of them?” Lan Zhan replies, solemn, and Wei Wuxian laughs again.
They’re currently walking on a well-trodden path, following a stooped, wizened man who has several mu of land to offer them. It’s a beautiful, breezy day outside, with not a cloud in the sky. These have always been Wei Wuxian’s favorite kind of days—those special kinds that seem to offer infinite promises.
Soon, they stop by a decently sized plot. It already has a small house built on the property, and there’s a decent stable for any other animals they might have in the future. Overall, it’s not bad, but—
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, glancing down at him.
Wei Wuxian looks over the property, tilting his head this way and that, trying to visualize him and Lan Zhan trying to build a home here. It’s not like he can’t imagine it! It’s just… difficult.
What if they ended up adopting more kids? They wouldn’t be able to squeeze all of them in that little cottage! And the nearest river is several li away, too—tugging water back and forth would be tiresome, even if they could fly on their swords. It was also located a little too close to the town for his liking… sometimes a family needs their privacy!
“Ah… maybe we can see if there’s anything else?” Wei Wuxian hedges, and Lan Zhan nods.
“May we see your other available properties?” Lan Zhan asks, addressing the man, and they move on.
But even with the promised plethora of options, Wei Wuxian still isn’t sold on anything they come across. There’s always one thing that’s missing, or something that bothers Lan Zhan, himself, or the both of them.
The plot of land they’re currently surveying is introduced as their last option, and Wei Wuxian can’t help but be a little disheartened by the sight of it. Though he’ll admit it’s one of their better options, with wide, flat plains and a comfortable distance between here, the village, and the nearest water source, it’s still not what he completely wants. He rises from a crouch, disgruntled as he watches the dry, dusty earth from the current property crumble between his fingertips. It would definitely take more effort than he’d like to make the earth sustainable enough for crops. And while Wei Wuxian has grown food in the literal Burial Mounds, that doesn’t mean he wants to make every harvesting season difficult for himself!
“Do you have anything else? Anything at all?” Wei Wuxian asks, turning to their guide. He’s aware he sounds desperate, but who wouldn’t be when their longtime fantasy is so close to becoming reality?
Their guide strokes his wispy beard as Wei Wuxian anxiously waits for his answer. He couldn’t have been so picky that they really ran out of choices for their future home.
“There is one more, daozhang,” he eventually concedes, and Wei Wuxian sends a hopeful look to Lan Zhan. “I will warn you that it’s not very popular with clients due to the distance from town, and they dislike being so close to the river—”
“Please take us,” Wei Wuxian says, and then they’re off again.
The sun is beginning to set as they continue walking. Lan Zhan maintains his sedate pace, as always, while Wei Wuxian is close to bursting from his skin with anticipation.
“I think this will be the one,” he whispers, squeezing Lan Zhan’s hand once before letting go. “I have a good feeling about it.”
Lan Zhan’s lips quirk up. “As you have mentioned about the previous properties.” But before Wei Wuxian can shoot back a snarky retort, Lan Zhan is speaking again. “And yet… I also have a good feeling about this one.”
Wei Wuxian grins.
And later, the property turns out to encompass everything they’d hoped for. Their guide gives his small spiel about the land—stuff about how the sunrise on the river is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and how the soil is good and fertile—before finally letting them wander through.
Wei Wuxian knows deep within his heart that he desperately wants to live here.
It’s definitely one of the largest plots they’ve seen so far. A river forms one side of it, and small wildflowers dot the banks. Wei Wuxian crouches down to touch the soil and nearly jumps up again in excitement when he finds that their guide was telling the truth. The earth is sufficiently dark and crumbly enough, and he’s sure that it’ll be in the same state if he dug any deeper.
As he stands back up, Wei Wuxian looks across the property and idly wonders if they could build a dock over the riverbank, with a pathway leading from wherever their house would be. They could fish there sometimes, or just sit on the ledge and dangle their feet in the water.
Their fields would be close to the river, lush with vegetation. They wouldn’t have to wait for the rain to water the crops! There’s even room to build a small stable, just in case they acquire more animals to keep Little Apple company.
And if they wanted, they could make a little garden for any plants that they wouldn’t grow commercially. It would also be fun to add a tiny pond, filled with lotuses, of course—
“Lan Zhan,” he pleads, looking up at his husband with wide eyes, “this is definitely the one.”
Lan Zhan smiles gently at him. It’s one of Wei Wuxian’s favorite looks—where Lan Zhan’s eyes go all soft and the skin around them crinkles a little, and his lips slope gently upwards.
“Then this is where we will live.”
They give the landowner a downpayment on the plot right away. Though Wei Wuxian boggles at the total cost, Lan Zhan doesn’t even blink at the price as he hands over the first half. They’ll be paying the rest once they start actively building on it.
“We should’ve haggled at least a little ,” Wei Wuxian scolds over dinner later in the Jingshi. It was too late for them to prepare something fresh, but there were still some leftovers from the meal prepared for the sect. Wei Wuxian had armed himself with a large pot of chili oil in preparation. “This is your sect’s money, isn’t it? We can’t go using so much of it over something like this!”
“We are not wanting for funds,” Lan Zhan replies serenely. “And these are from my personal stores—I am permitted to do what I please with them.” The unspoken I want to spend it on you is entirely too obvious, judging by Lan Zhan’s quietly content expression.
“You’ll spoil me if you continue this way, Hanguang-jun!” Wei Wuxian huffs. “And what then?”
“Wei Ying deserves to be spoiled every once in a while,” Lan Zhan says, calmly moving a few pieces of tofu onto Wei Wuxian’s plate.
“You say that now, but I’m not sure you’ll feel the same after I continue to take advantage of your bottomless wallet!” Wei Wuxian threatens, watching Lan Zhan pile several vegetables there as well. “Consider the consequences of your actions!”
Lan Zhan, however, is unfazed. “If the consequences of my actions lead to your happiness, then I will continue to perform such actions.” He sounds almost smug by the end, and Wei Wuxian is overcome with a mixture of exasperation and fondness . Fond exasperation?
“Aiya, how can this lowly one last against such shamelessness from Hanguang-jun?” he sighs dramatically. “Where could he ever have learned that from?”
“Where, indeed?” Lan Zhan quips, making Wei Wuxian snort.
Wei Wuxian is in a fervor over the next few weeks. He drafts and discards plans for their house’s framework on repeat, and soon there are enough scrapped ideas to fill a whole notebook. Though Lan Zhan has assured him so many times that any house would be perfect as long as they could be together, Wei Wuxian still isn’t satisfied.
Do they want a courtyard? Just a single-story house? How many extra rooms should they add for guests?
He thunks his forehead against the table and whines pitifully. Unfortunately, there is no husband at the moment to comfort Wei Wuxian by wrapping him in his strong arms and ask, “What is wrong?” because Lan Zhan is also Hanguang-jun and Gusu Lan’s er-gongzi— which then means he can be called away to deal with ghosts or demons that the juniors or other senior disciples are not fully equipped to deal with.
Wei Wuxian wanted to come along too, but there were still little buns to teach and raise into talented young masters, and Lan Zhan had assured him that this was going to be a quick trip. One to two nights at most.
After scrapping yet another plan for their house, Wei Wuxian turns to potential inventory. He’s always had the idea of farm life with Lan Zhan floating around his brain, so this part is a little easier to start.
Seeds, Wei Wuxian writes. Wood. Shovels.
Is there anything else they might need? As he thinks, Wei Wuxian glances down at his robes, then to the spares stored in their wardrobe. Most of his clothing is dark, though he has accumulated a decent amount of white Lan robes as well since he married into the sect. But they are all also, Wei Wuxian realizes, very fine and expensive clothes. Not suitable for farm work at all.
New robes, he decides to add to the list, idly feeling his clothing’s soft fabric between his fingers. Maybe a few hats? Wide-brimmed, to keep the sun off their face.
“Wei-qianbei,” someone suddenly calls, and it’s only thanks to his own quick reflexes that he doesn’t upend the entire inkpot over his notes. When Wei Wuxian glances up, he’s met with Sizhui’s apologetic smile and Jingyi’s teasing grin.
“You should know better than to sneak up on your elders,” Wei Wuxian scolds as he stands and gently tugs on their ears. “What if I was working on a volatile project and you made me blow up the library? What would your Lan-xiansheng say about that?”
“Sorry, Xian-gege,” Sizhui says promptly, while Jingyi snorts.
“You wouldn’t even be in the library with something like that,” he points out, and Wei Wuxian holds up his hands in surrender.
“Got me there!” he says cheerfully. “So what brings you here? Did you need something from me?”
“Ah, just a message from Yang-laoshi,” Sizhui says, pulling a small scroll from his sleeve. “All the details are inside—it’s just a small request to be a guest lecturer for a few junior disciples in a few days' time. They’re starting their unit on more advanced talismans, and Yang-laoshi wanted to see if you were interested in providing a demonstration of some of your inventions.”
Wei Wuxian had already started reading the scroll’s contents as Sizhui spoke, and is pleased to note that he’d provided a very good summary of Yang Jinhai’s long-winded and overly formal request. Ah, these Lan lecturers never change.
He rolls the sheet back up again with a sharp snap. “Thank you for letting me know, A-Yuan, Jingyi. I’d be happy to help out.”
Sizhui beams. Though Sizhui is no longer a toddling child and rather an accomplished young master in his own right, Wei Wuxian still sometimes has the urge to ruffle his hair and give him a grass butterfly.
“So uh, Wei-qianbei,” Jingyi says then, gesturing at Wei Wuxian’s notebooks and discarded scraps of paper, “what’s all this? Did we interrupt something?”
“They look like house plans,” Sizhui adds, glancing over the desk. “Are you and Hanguang-jun adding to the Jingshi?”
“Ah… Lan Zhan and I actually bought a plot of land a week or so ago,” Wei Wuxian says delicately, because they actually haven’t told anyone about their not-so-impulsive purchase yet. “And yes, these are a few of my designs for the house. What do you think of them?”
“I can tell that you’ve put a lot of thought into these,” Sizhui says earnestly, looking up from Wei Wuxian’s notes. “I’m sure that whatever you decide on will be wonderful!”
Jingyi, though, doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Wait, does this mean that you and Hanguang-jun are moving out of the Cloud Recesses for good?” he asks, frowning, and Wei Wuxian winces.
That’s… another thing he and Lan Zhan hadn’t really discussed—both between themselves and with other people. Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to leave permanently, but he also wants to create a home for himself, and he struggles to put those conflicting feelings into words. But as Wei Wuxian tries and fails to come up with a suitable rebuttal, he can see a quiet sort of devastation beginning to fall across Sizhui’s face after Jingyi’s words.
And—gods—he never wants to see that expression on Lan Sizhui’s face again.
“We’re not leaving for good,” Wei Wuxian says quickly, and breathes a sigh of relief when Sizhui brightens. Then he admits, wondering if he’s being a little too honest with his juniors, “This is just something I’ve always wanted to do, you know?”
Sizhui and Jingyi glance at each other, something passing too swiftly between them for Wei Wuxian to pick up on, then nod in unison.
“I think,” Sizhui says seriously, “that you and Hanguang-jun should have two floors for your house.”
“And a deck,” Jingyi adds, nodding in agreement. “You like watching the rain, don’t you? You’ll stay dry if you have a nice place to sit.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart does a funny little flip in his chest as the two of them continue offering suggestions, sometimes speaking over each other in the rush to tell him their new thoughts, and Wei Wuxian has to take a moment to compose himself before speaking again.
“Hey, slow down!” he laughs, twirling his brush between his fingers. “All right—come sit down and help this senior finalize the design for his new house.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian begins later that day, glancing up from his own stack of ungraded assignments to see Lan Zhan already meeting his gaze. His expression is soft, like it usually is when Lan Zhan looks at him, and that gives Wei Wuxian the courage to continue. “Do you think it's really all right to leave the Cloud Recesses like this?”
“Are you regretting our decision?” Lan Zhan asks, misunderstanding his intentions, and Wei Wuxian frowns.
“No,” he says immediately. “No regrets, just…”
“Just?”
Wei Wuxian sets his inkbrush down. They’d been working on being more open and honest with each other, and while the thought of vulnerability still makes Wei Wuxian want to run away screaming, he’s also realized how much good it can do.
He thinks back to the conversation he had with Sizhui and Jingyi earlier, then the promise he made to Yang Jinhai to help with his class. They still had a place here. Was there really any point in leaving if they were eventually going to come back?
But the finished sketches for the layout of their future house…
Wei Wuxian wrings his hands. “This is your home, Lan Zhan,” he eventually says. “I can’t help but feel—I don’t know, selfish for stealing you away from the place you grew up. Sizhui’s old enough to not need us as much as he used to, but we also teach here. Your family is here.”
“You are also here. Anywhere is home when it is with you,” Lan Zhan tells him, gently. Wei Wuxian feels Lan Zhan’s fingers thread through his own and give them a gentle squeeze. And impossibly, as if Lan Zhan could peer inside the tangled thoughts of his mind, he continues, “We can come back to Gusu as many times as you would like. If you wish, you do not have to let go of any of your homes—they can still be yours.”
And Wei Wuxian blinks at him. Then blinks some more because— wow, seasonal allergies really are horrible and—
“Lan Zhan,” he cries, hiding his face in his billowing sleeves. Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over how Lan Zhan can say such earth-shattering words; how he can say affirmations of love and care just as easily as ordering food off a menu.
Wei Wuxian thinks of lotuses, swaying gently in the water. Of patchwork suns amidst death. Wei Wuxian recognizes that he’s built many homes for himself, and mostly out of necessity, with the amount he’s had (and lost) over the years.
And then—there’s Gusu, and Lan Zhan.
Wei Wuxian lets himself sink into Lan Zhan’s side, their fingers still interlocked, and squishes his cheek against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Wei Wuxian loves him so much.
“We can hire someone to mind the house and crops when we’re needed back in Gusu, or we can simply remain away from the cultivation world,” Lan Zhan murmurs, stroking Wei Wuxian’s hand. “It is always your choice, Wei Ying. Whatever you do, wherever you go, I will follow.”
Wei Wuxian would have trouble believing such steadfastness from anyone else, but Lan Zhan has proven—time and time again—how deeply his devotion runs. And though he knows this well, for someone like Wei Wuxian, who is still relearning to trust wholeheartedly in those who care for him, that amount of love is still staggering.
“We will have our home, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan continues, reaching out to take Wei Wuxian’s hand. “And no one will ever be able to take this from you.”
If Wei Wuxian cries a little after that promise, that’s between him and Lan Zhan.
After Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan give copies of the design to the contractors, there’s nothing to do but wait. And life, as it always does, moves on in the interim.
Wei Wuxian drops into Yang Jinhai’s class and teaches those budding young minds some skill-appropriate talisman applications, and advice on what to do if they ever want to design their own.
He tinkers in his little workshop, thinking about how he won’t have to be as careful with any explosions when he isn’t experimenting in the Cloud Recesses. He spends as much time with Sizhui as he can, not failing to notice how Sizhui’s been coming around the Jingshi more and more.
He and Lan Zhan also take dinner one day with both Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen (who, while out of seclusion now, is still looking a little wan). They’ve all had tea together every once in a while—and sometimes Lan Qiren will grudgingly agree to discuss cultivation theories with Wei Wuxian when he has any new thoughts—but Wei Wuxian still feels slightly nervous about how Lan Zhan’s family will take the news about their little farm.
As they begin stacking the empty plates at the end of their meal, Lan Zhan says, “Shufu. Xiongzhang. Wei Ying and I have something to tell you.”
Immediately, both Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen’s eyes zero in on Wei Wuxian, and he nearly flinches back from the sudden attention. Even though he knows that this situation is nothing like the memories of his childhood, Wei Wuxian is somewhat reminded of sitting at the table with Yu-furen and Jiang-shushu again. Especially as he meets Lan Qiren’s suspicious stare and Lan Xichen’s curious smile.
But his worries are unfounded as Lan Zhan begins to explain everything to his—their—family.
“Hmph. I expected as much,” Lan Qiren says after, looking thoroughly unimpressed as he refills Wei Wuxian’s empty teacup. “But a change of scenery will do you both some good, as long as you do not forgo your responsibilities to our sect.”
“And you must let us visit sometime,” Lan Xichen says, nodding. “I do not think I have visited that part of Jiangnan yet.”
If Wei Wuxian were a frailer man, he thinks he might have either wept or fainted in relief. “We’ll return as much as we can, and stay in Gusu for the length of our cold season,” he promises, reiterating what he and Lan Zhan had spoken of during one of their previous conversations. Then, he adds, feeling a bit of mischief: “Don’t think you’ve gotten rid of me just yet!”
“I would not dare to presume so, especially since you still have more of our young minds to influence,” Lan Qiren says coolly, and Wei Wuxian grins.
“Of course, xiansheng.”
“And do not become soft just because you are farming for half the year!”
“Yes, xiansheng.”
Moving day dawns on an uncharastically hot, humid day in Gusu. Having grown up in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian is intimately familiar with the slog of humidity and the promise of torrential downpour. So he isn’t surprised that it rains during the first night they spend in their newly built house.
They’d spent the better part of their day moving their belongings into their designated spots, and it’s a wonder how the concept of simple decoration could transform something so bare into a welcoming home.
Lastly, they hang Bichen and Suibian on the wall of their receiving room, while Wangji and Chenqing rest on a table below.
At the end of the day, Lan Zhan plays a few pieces on his guqin, while Wei Wuxian sits by the open window to watch the rain fall across their courtyard. The deck that Jingyi suggested was a good idea; even if they aren’t actively using it, they could still keep the window open with minimal spray indoors.
But the urge to go and do something more still niggles at Wei Wuxian’s restless frame, and he shoots to his feet.
“I’m gonna go out,” Wei Wuxian says aloud, and the soft guqin music comes to a stop.
“Let me join you,” Lan Zhan requests, already by his side.
A few minutes later, Wei Wuxian finds himself standing outside with his husband. His clothes and hair are beginning to stick uncomfortably to his skin, but he feels calmer now—the restless energy from earlier has faded, washed away by the rain.
Tomorrow, he and Lan Zhan will wake up together and officially start the newest arc of their lives. It’s fitting that the rain is here, symbolizing it.
And maybe it’s just the nature of existing during the late night hours that makes him think that way, but Wei Wuxian feels like he has the right to have sappy thoughts every once in a while.
“I think we made the right choice,” Wei Wuxian says, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to face the night sky.
“I think so too,” Lan Zhan murmurs.
To new beginnings, Wei Wuxian thinks, and lets a small smile play on his lips.
Wei Wuxian isn’t sure what wakes him the next day, but he can tell it’s early enough for Lan Zhan to still be asleep. He can probably count the number of times he’s woken up before Lan Zhan on one hand, and those moments never fail to feel special.
On most nights, Lan Zhan sleeps on his back. On other nights, like when the chill bites though the Gusu mountain air, Lan Zhan sleeps on his stomach. Wei Wuxian now knows how to best massage the thick scar tissue.
Lan Zhan has always been beautiful. It’s undeniable—and it’s this fact that leads Wei Wuxian to remain in bed until he sees Lan Zhan’s eyes flutter open. He can spy the exact moment that Lan Zhan realizes that Wei Wuxian is awake, his sleep-soft gaze focusing into one of surprise, then into warmth.
“Good morning, husband,” Wei Wuxian sings softly, reaching out to cup Lan Zhan’s cheek, and smiles when Lan Zhan leans into the touch.
“Good morning, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan greets back, his voice wonderfully raspy with sleep. “You are awake.”
“I am!” he agrees cheerfully, before pitching his voice slightly lower in an attempt to sound coy. “Are you surprised, er-gege? Will you give me a reward?”
As he speaks, he can feel Lan Zhan’s cool fingers trail appreciatively down his backside. Wei Wuxian would almost call the action absent if he didn’t know very well that Lan Zhan was a person who did not waste any movement, performing each of them with purpose and precision. He shivers as those fingers come to a rest against his tailbone, warm palm cupping the swell of his ass, thumb stroking the skin along his hip.
“Is there something you would prefer for your reward?” Lan Zhan whispers.
“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian whispers back, pressing a deliberately wet kiss on the underside of Lan Zhan’s jaw.
A fair amount of their morning has passed by the time they finally untangle and make it out of their bedroom, but Wei Wuxian is still determined to get a few things started before the day ends.
He did, however, forget just how strenuous the initial labor would be; working the soil, making sure the seeds are planted properly, the countless trips back and forth from the river…
The warm bath that Lan Zhan had prepared for him that night was truly a godsend.
“This farmer's dream of mine is finally turning me into a proper Lan!” Wei Wuxian jokes as he sits at the table the next morning. It still hurts to move too much (due to… various things from yesterday), so Lan Zhan cooks breakfast while Wei Wuxian sits with some modified freezing talismans on his tender muscles. “Who knew that I would ever willingly wake up at mao shi?”
“Shufu would be pleased to hear that,” Lan Zhan replies, and Wei Wuxian can see the faint mirth dancing in Lan Zhan’s eyes when he glances over his shoulder. “He will wonder why you did not take up agriculture sooner.”
Wei Wuxian makes a dismissive gesture. “I have, though!” he protests. “Did you not see the fruits of our labor in the Burial Mounds all those years ago? Our cute little vegetables?”
“The cutest,” Lan Zhan says gravely, and Wei Wuxian bursts into laughter.
“No, they looked horrible, but I appreciate the compliment,” he says, preening. Then, against his better judgment, Wei Wuxian continues, “I don’t remember if I told you this story, but Wen Qing, she—” He only stumbles a little on the next few words. “—she only let us grow radishes there. I wanted potatoes, but radishes were a sturdier crop.”
“She would be happy to know that her words have remained with you after all this time,” Lan Zhan says. He’s sitting at the table now, and their freshly prepared food steams gently in front of them.
“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian agrees quietly, accepting the platter handed to him. “We grew A-Yuan pretty well over there, didn’t we?”
“Mn. We can invite him over soon. I believe he will enjoy seeing the progress on our farm.”
So they send a letter, and Lan Sizhui's first visit occurs a week after. They’re closer to a semblance of a routine by then, and Wei Wuxian is surprised by how much he likes waking up early now. Who would’ve thought?
"Jingyi was going to come too, but Lan-xiansheng put him in charge of leading the juniors on a nighthunt last minute," Sizhui explains, accepting the cup of tea with a smile. “He sends his regards, as always.”
As Lan Sizhui speaks, Wei Wuxian notes the hint of wistfulness in his expression. Lan Zhan told him once that Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui have always been very close, even as early as their toddling days, and that makes Wei Wuxian wonder. Of course, they might just have that fiercely loyal kind of bond—the type that he and Jiang Cheng are slowly rekindling after all these years of resentment and political nooses had doused it—but nevertheless, Wei Wuxian is sure that Lan Jingyi will be a fixture in their little family for decades to come.
“Lan Jingyi is always more than welcome in our home,” Lan Zhan says soon after, as if he’d read Wei Wuxian’s mind. His expression softens at the spark of joy in Lan Sizhui’s answering dip of the head.
"We never really did have a housewarming party, did we," Wei Wuxian muses. He traces the rim of his teacup. "What do you think, Lan Zhan?"
"I would not mind," Lan Zhan says quietly, "but perhaps not quite as large a guest list as our wedding was."
"You, Jingyi, A-Ling, and Zizhen are invited, of course," Wei Wuxian rushes to assure Sizhui, who blushes at the sudden address. "Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren too... maybe Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang if they can get away..."
"A good amount of guests," Lan Zhan agrees.
Wei Wuxian beams. “We’ll have to plan it then!”
Lan Wangji has known about Wei Ying’s dream for a while now. He knows how much Wei Ying had longed to live a life like this, possessing a home that won’t disappear before his eyes.
His husband has suffered too much heartbreak in his first lifetime, and Lan Wangji swears that he won’t allow him to experience any more.
Wei Ying is out in the fields today to check on the health of their (still absent) wheat plants, his straw hat tied firmly on his head and long hair pulled high. His robes swept the floor when he left, but on a day like today, Lan Wangji can easily imagine the hems being hiked up to his mid-thigh and his sleeves pulled up to his elbows.
Lan Wangji sweeps up their courtyard while Wei Ying is out, and contemplates what they should have for lunch later. Though Wei Ying was adamant about being able to handle the outside labor alone, Lan Wangji still goes out to help him in the afternoons.
So he changes into more suitable working robes, dons a straw hat of his own, and strides out into the fields where he can see Wei Ying working. Or at least, where Wei Ying should be working.
As Lan Wangji comes closer, he can see Wei Ying crouching in the dirt, his back facing him. He feels a momentary flicker of concern when Wei Ying doesn’t reply to his initial call, but then he can’t help but smile fondly when he sees what Wei Ying is looking at.
There are some small green shoots, poking out from the ground.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again, a little louder this time, and Wei Ying nearly topples over in surprise.
“Oh, Lan Zhan! Is it that time already?”
“It is,” he confirms, offering Wei Ying his hand to pull him up. “I see that your hard efforts have finally come to fruition.”
And as expected, Wei Ying breaks into a sheepish, but proud smile. “I guess they did, huh. Think we’ll be able to keep this up?”
You have always put your all into everything you do, Lan Wangji thinks. Your attention to detail is impeccable. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish next.
“I would expect no less from you,” he says instead, deciding to save those other thoughts for another time. He’s learned that it might be too much for Wei Ying’s heart (even as shameless as he is) if he were to say all those things in one moment, though he does delight in the way Wei Ying tries to hide under his hat in embarrassment.
Lan Wangji gently nudges Wei Ying in the direction of “their” tree so they can eat together, and thinks—not for the first time—about constructing an outdoor table there so they aren’t always sitting on the ground. He will bring it up with Wei Ying at another time.
As he lays out their meal on the spread cloth, Wei Ying sighs happily when he sees what Lan Wangji had brought.
“When did we get oranges again?” he asks, eyes shining. “I don’t think we’ve had them since—”
The day we decided to build this farm, Lan Wangji muses, listening to Wei Ying say the same phrase aloud. Then he listens some more as Wei Ying continues to chatter about his morning, weaving more and more stories with just his voice.
Their pile of peeled oranges slowly dwindles down to nothing as they finish them, and the rest of their meal follows suit. Then they stack up their dishes, help each other pull their sleeves up again, make sure their hats are securely tied on…
“Lan Zhan?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Lan Wangji kisses him. “And I, you.”
Then it’s off to work again, on their way to grow more memories in the home they’ve built for themselves.