#softlwj

[explodingsynapses]

@gimme-a-chocolate challenge Together with you is my favorite Place to be.

The original challenge was for gifs but my talents are very limited there.

Four-part ficlet stretching across canon and post canon from Lan Zhan's POV. Missing scenes and internal thoughts. Read it below or here on ao3.

 Together with you is my favorite place to be

Library Pavillion: transcribing rules as punishment

Lan Zhan stares at the slumped, slumbering form of Wei Ying a few chi away from him. His head had dropped to the desk, the ink has stained the scroll where he was copying the rules.

Considering Wei Ying’s atrocious penmanship is a mockery of the art of writing, the stain does little to hurt the poor shape of the scroll.

Lan Zhan knows he should not let him sleep. This is a punishment.

Even in his waking hours, he has been dawdling or chatting off Lan Zhan’s ears.

Lan Zhan also knows that despite transcribing the rules around sleep several times, Wei Ying does not sleep at night. He does not need to catch the wayward disciple each night to know that.

The yawns and bags each morning have been enough of an indicator.

He skipped lunch today. He had missed breakfast. And he had been picking on his dinner yesterday.

His various bemoaning monologues about eating grass have informed Lan Zhan sufficiently over his aversion to GusuLan food. Lan Zhan doesn’t condone the entitlement.

But if he lets Wei Ying rest a little longer, hearing to the soft, barely-there snores; then he is not being indulgent. He does need to care for the health of his charge. If he has been allowing this for several days, well Wei Ying will simply have to spend more days in the library wrapping up his punishment.

Lan Zhan does not even pretend to try to work. Once he had thought that the first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang would be less of a distraction if he was quiet or sleeping.

The past few days have corrected him of the misguided notion.

It is not the snores. And perhaps, it is also not the fault of the person slumped in front of him.

It is not him that is allowing the breeze the ringlets of his hair across the cheek. It is not him who humphs and scrunches his nose deliberately. It is not him who is presenting his hand spread wide, each finger open to the inquiry of Lan Zhan’s eyes. It is not him who smudges ink on the side of his lips. It is not him who constantly compels Lan Zhan to ogle at the mole under the lower lip, or sleepily swat his tongue down at it.

He drools sometimes. Sometimes, there is no snoring. There is just a gentle rise and fall of Wei Ying’s chest that tells him that the man sleeping like the dead is in fact in deep slumber. It is hypnotic, that movement.

Sometimes the smooth lines of the face furrow, the eyebrows bunching. Sometimes the fingers stiffen, perhaps a nightmare. Until they smoothen out slowly.

Lan Zhan has long thought that Wei Wuxian smiles like the sun.

It is this time, a shichen in between the discipline in the library that the light is not merely in the smile. Something about Wei Ying alights things, and Lan Zhan just basks.

He hasn’t been so content merely by the presence of someone for so long.

****************

In the aftermath of The Tortoise of Slaughter

His leg is throbbing. His palms and fingers sting with the cuts that using Chord Assassination against the Tortoise of Slaughter has left.

Wei Ying is passed out in his lap. Lan Zhan has passed him spiritual energy. He has hummed his heart out at his zhiji’s request.

He does not think Wei Ying would remember. He is not even sure if both of them will survive this cave.

They are injured, have very little spiritual energy, no food, no clean water.

Wei Ying is running a fever and he is not letting go of that sword he found somewhere inside the shell.

It reeks of resentment.

Wei Ying is delirious and has nightmares. His face contorts in agony and the one hand free of the sword grabs at Lan Zhan’s robes, clenching hard as if trying to hold on.

Lan Zhan hums the song in that instance. It’s his first instance of comforting someone. He uses his sleeve to wipe away the forehead. He threads his fingers through Wei Ying’s matted hair.

And he speaks aloud, saying his Zhiji’s name in a soothing tone. He tells him that help is on the way. He tells him that he is not alone and whatever darkness is chasing him, Lan Zhan would fight it for him.

When Wei Ying is calmer, Lan Zhan thinks of his home, his brother, his uncle, his sect.

He thinks of the time they have been given.

He understands his mother a little better in that cave. He had often wondered why she had remained in Cloud Recesses, why she did not fight for more time with them. Why put up with it all?

He looks at Wei Ying’s sick, delirious form, hears his soft whimpers and movements.

He would want Wei Ying to be in better health. He wanted a lot of things for Wei Ying, with Wei Ying.

But in the absence of them all, this time still was a treasure.

Wei Ying was here. That is all that mattered.

Perhaps that is all that had mattered to mother too. Any time with people you love is better than no time at all. Any place with people you love can hold fond memories.

*****************

In the Jingshi: After the Sword Spirit attacks Lan Qiren

Wei Ying never sleeps early, so Lan Zhan expects him to be loitering in Jingshi on his return.

He finds the lamps dim, almost fizzled out, and panic grips him.

Surely, Wei Ying wouldn’t just leave. He barges in the door and finds him sprawled near the dinner table.

Dead, no, he can’t be dead.

Wei Ying’s back rises and falls.

Just asleep then. So much weight leaves Lan Zhan’s body that he staggers and slinks down silently on his knee. He just wants to wrap Wei Ying and hide him away and…

It is a familiar enough sight, Wei Ying sleeping away on a desk. It makes him feel hollow. And it makes him feel so full.

Lan Zhan does not need to taste his tears to know that he is crying, but he tastes the salt all the same.

Over time, he has made peace with his tears. He sheds them freely for Wei Ying, always has, indifferent to the reproach of others.

It is hard to reconcile this. For the longest, everything around him has been marred with unadulterated, indelible, ubiquitous grief for this one man.

His Wei Ying, his Zhiji, his …..

For sixteen years, Lan Zhan had tried to hold on to the peace and the light being near Wei Ying had brought to him. He remembers grasping at faint traces of it even as pain and darkness shrouded him and giving it all to A-Yuan.

He had forgotten the feeling of being able to see this gentle rise and fall. He had forgotten the music of those soft snores. He had forgotten what it felt like to have Wei Ying living, breathing, near him; and not being hostile or distrustful.

Lan Zhan had probably hoped for this very sight for ages, murmured it in quiet prayers, strummed in longing tones of their song, and now Wei Ying was right in front of him and Lan Zhan did not know what to do.

He had never thought he would feel alive like this again. He had never thought that one moment every instance of his life would not need to be in memory of Wei Ying.

This isn’t a mere memory. Wei Ying is here, alive. He is gaunt, the cheeks have sunken since the library pavilion. There is weariness in the body. But those are the same fingers, and there is the same mole under the lower lip.

The eyebrows are furrowed. This Wei Ying does not know how to rest peacefully. That luxury was taken away a long time ago.

He is still the brightest light of Lan Zhan’s existence.

The night after Wei Ying turns around on the hill with his crinkly smile

The inn room is comfortable and warm. That’s good. Lan Zhan knows by now that Wei Ying feels colder in the absence of his core.

Wei Ying does not look worse for the wear. That is a relief.

He is still thin. His hair is still messy. His body cricks when he moves. There is dirt under his fingernails. His skin is getting dry and taut. His clothes are clean but worn, and not nearly warm enough for the weather.

Lan Zhan is making a list of all the things that need taking care of.  

Wei Ying may be made of brilliance, but he is hapless when it comes to his own needs.

It does not matter. He is still Wei Ying.

Wei Ying pads out from the bath beyond the privacy screen in his threadbare inner robe. His feet are wet and they leave stains behind as he drags them across the room.

If Lan Zhan had put in relaxing herbs in the bath and might be to blame for the sleepiness in that gait, well he happily takes all the blame.

Wei Ying sleepily gets to the table, sleepily talks away as Lan Zhan serves him food, pours him alcohol.

The inner robe clings to the slightly damp body, and the hair is a mess of tangles. The eyes still sparkle through the haze of sleep, and that tongue is as much a tease as it ever was.

Wei Ying dozes off as he is sitting, once he is done eating. One moment he is regaling Lan Zhan about the flavors of a distant town and one moment, his eyes are drooping, his mouth is hanging slightly open and his body is starting to slump.

Lan Zhan catches him, stands behind him, and pulls Wei Ying’s head against his own abdomen.

He moves his fingers through the hair. They are a mess, but they are a soft mess.

And he clicks out in disapproval, “You need to comb and braid this so they don’t tangle.”

Wei Ying is half dozing and he makes a small noise of confusion but there is no protest.

Lan Zhan pulls out his oil and comb from the qiankun pouch. He needs to fix his zhiji’s hair.

His fingers thread through the tresses, pouring oil into the roots. He hears an appreciative hmmm as Wei Ying leans further into him.

The hair is combed and braided.  Wei Ying had taken to steadily humming their song somewhere in between, but it stops once Lan Zhan’s hands have stopped touching him.

“I did not know the Chief Cultivators could take night hunts, Lan Zhan? How long are you here for?” Wei Ying asks.

“Not a night hunt,” He responds, as he starts to clear the table and place the tray outside their room.

When he turns around, Wei Ying is slightly more awake and staring at him in some confusion.

“I did not know there was sect trouble in these parts. I swear I am very well informed about the gossips here.” Wei Ying says, a little put out.

“No trouble,” Lan Zhan shakes his head, then adds after a pause, “Only Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying does not need Lan Zhan to speak to understand him most times, so Lan Zhan is not surprised by the shocked widening of eyes and an immediate, incredulous inquiry, “You came to see me?”

Lan Zhan hmms in affirmation.

Wei Ying gets into a tirade of how he has behaved, there should be no one complaining to Lan Zhan about him, how sorry he is.

“Wei Ying,” He says with great patience, “I simply missed you. Besides, if someone had the gall to complain, they would find themselves being corrected.”

“Miss me?” Wei Ying whispers in the same incredulous tone, “But you did not have to come all the way here Lan Zhan. You should have taken a decree out and ordered me to show myself to Cloud Recesses.”

“You do not like Cloud Recesses. You left for a reason. I will not make you do things you do not wish to do. Other people have spent a lifetime doing that. You deserve better.”

Wei Ying is opening and closing his mouth for several moments, and then he takes a deep breath and says, “I left for a reason, yes. Cloud Recesses is your home. It is your favorite place. It has your brother, uncle. It has A-Yuan. It has rabbits. And now it is your seat as the Chief Cultivator. The Yiling Lazou does not make sense there.”

Lan Zhan blinks and stares at Wei Ying and then closes his eyes to compose himself, “Wei Ying, tell me you did not leave because you thought there was no place for you there.”

Wei Ying is starting to say something and before he says something rattled with wrong assumptions and non-sensical, Lan Zhan grabs his shoulders lightly and forces him to look into Lan Zhan’s eyes, “I let you go that day because I thought out of everyone you deserved freedom. Cloud Recesses is not my favorite place. It is home, yes. It has everyone and everything, maybe. It does not have you. Together with you is my favorite place to be. It always has. There is no one else whom I dearly want to be with all the time.”

He sees tears slide down the cheeks of his zhiji, but Lan Zhan doesn’t waver in his meaningful gaze. Wei Ying needs to understand the weight of his confession.

Wei Ying grabs the front of his robe and bunches his hands, and looks away slightly, “I don’t know when it happened Lan Zhan. Maybe when they first threw me in burial mounds or before…I…you are my safe place. Even in my head with all the resentment, the things that made me hold it together were Shije and you. You are my zhiji, the one who has tried to hold me as I fall, you are my safe place, you are also my favorite place to be.”

Lan Zhan presses his lips on his hair, and Wei Ying encircles his arms as he hugs Lan Zhan’s through his middle. Lan Zhan replaces his hands to cradle Wei Ying’s head instead.

He says gently as he feels hot tears against his robes, “Then, let’s not walk separate paths or go to different places, shall we?”

******

Fin

#mdzs fanfiction #the untamed #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #fytheuntamed #canon compliant #softlwj #intimacy #myfics #moreshowthanbook