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Lan Wangji woke up with the 30th hit of the discipline whip burning across his back. He rolled on his bed, groaning. His ability to hold his voice back had been shattered long ago. Not even the Second Jade of Lan, the man known as made of ice and bearer of an unreadable expression, could have avoided shattering.

His vision blurred as the 31st hit came down. He could feel the blood running on his skin, the shaking of his limbs, the eyes of his clan on him.

All he knew was dark, distant. The 32nd hit cut through the air. His Sect was silent. His family was quiet. Only his broken voice and the cracking of the whip were sharp and overwhelming.

Wangji knew he might die. If anything, death was the most likely outcome. No matter how good his cultivation was, surviving these many hits of the discipline whip was too much.

He didn't know if he wished to survive.

He had raised his blade against his clan. He would do it again, with no hesitation, for the man he loved.

By all means, he deserved such punishment. It had been a sudden, terrifying realization. How far would he be willing to go for Wei Ying.

If Wei Ying had accepted him, would have him stood alongside him, on a mountain of corpses, would have him slain every cultivator that tried to take his beloved?

Wei Ying pushed him away. As he had done for the past few years. Wei Ying stood alone, against the whole world, and Wangji was punished for loving him.

"Great news! Wei Wuxian has died!" The people sang through the streets. A great evil had been vanquished. A terrible villain had been defeated.

Wangji cried.

The 33rd hit knocked the little air left out of his lungs. His world went dark, his conscience faded into something between sleep and death. His light had finally slipped forever out of his reach.

Selfishly, Wangji wished he could see his smile one more time.

During the war, maintaining the Lan Sect’s sleep schedule was hard, but it was an effort Wangji had made. And yet, when he rose very well past the break of dawn, most soldiers didn’t give him much more than sympathetic looks that never lasted more than a second. A face of jade, raising late from his tent, was very useful when it came to masking his confusion.

Wangji’s back hurt, but there were no wounds, no blood and no scars. He had the weariness of war but still little more than the reminder of his once broken leg marking his body.

Waking up in a tent, far from the Cloud Recesses had been a shock. The slow realization that he was back at the Sunshot Campaign would have been panic-inducing should his mind be in any less from a daze. The discipline whip still burned, under his skin.

There was movement, preparations. During the war, there was always moving. Tending the wounded, sharpening the weapons. Marching forward or falling back. If Wangji stood still it was because this war was over. Had been over for years.

Soldiers were discussing the next ambush over breakfast. Talking about killing the Wen-dogs in all the anxiety and fear masked as anger that so often anticipated battle.

Wangji thought of little A-Yuan, hiding in a mountain of corpses while the Great Sects laid their siege and his stomach turned.

"With Hanguang Jun and the Yiling Patriarch, there is no way this will go wrong."

"Some of us won't even have to raise our swords, you'll see."

"Will finally turn this around! Finally, these damn Wens will get what is coming for them!"

Suddenly, there was silence in the camp. The kind of silence that spread in ripples from the one stone being dropped on a still lake.

For all the bravado he brought the army, Wei Wuxian was equally feared by their men. It was hard to laugh while the idea of being raised as one of his corpses was imposed by his mere presence.

Not even those who found safety in rank and birthright dared to speak when he walked during war time.

Wangji's thoughts had been running in circles, trying to gather the clues and solve this impossibility (- his back burned without blood his beloved was attacked hurt killed he failed to stand by his side failed to stand by his sect war was over for the victors to pick another target war was happening against the sun in the sky-), but they all came to a screeching halt the moment Wei Ying came into view.

Grounded steps, head high and eyes very few dared to meet. It was impossible to ignore him. Not a single part of Wangji wanted to.

He stayed frozen, as if his bones had been turned to ice. He wanted to reach out, to touch his face, to hold him close. To beg him to allow his presence at his side.

He feared that, if he tried, his memory would all melt away.

Wei Ying smiled as soon as he saw Wangji and ran over to him. "Lan Zhan!" He called from afar, not minding the lack of response.

Wangji stood, dazed. He had left Wei Ying in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, bleeding and furious, to face his own death alone. "Get lost" echoed in his head, the whole way from the Burial Mounds to the GusuLan Ancestral Hall. It still echoed as Wei Ying, alive and well, spoke.

"Lan Zhan, are you okay?" Wei Ying waved, trying to get a reaction out of him and his expression turned into a frown when he didn't. Wangji nodded, too slowly to be convincing.

Wei Ying looked around, one glance being enough to drive off the curious eyes that fell on them. With a soft movement, he grabbed Wangji's wrist (too gently, so kind that he didn't need to put any strength to trap him) and pulled him back to the tent.

One swift movement and he shut away from the outside. Wangji simply followed.

"Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying began, "I… Heard about the night terrors. Let me make you some tea?"

He led Wangji to the makeshift bed, only letting go when he had sat down. He did so slowly, not breaking eye contact until it was clear he was simply heading towards the area he had reserved for brewing some tea for himself.

Seeing Wei Ying move around his tent (- Wei Ying in his tent humming and making tea and looking back at him charming smiles and there and alive -), Wangji could stop. He needed to recenter himself, to stop his runaway heart.

He couldn't close his eyes, couldn't take them off Wei Ying.

This was impossible, wasn't it? He couldn't be there, could he? Back at the war, back before Qiongqi Path, before the siege-

The water boiled and Wei Ying picked the leaves from the wooden box with utmost care. Wangji watched, knowing it was counterproductive to the breaking of illusions and dreams.

There was no blurring at the edges, no sound too sharp, too faded, too out of place. Wei Ying had felt solid, present, (- alive -).

He could push through the haze, and every one of his senses told him this was real. He felt the warmth of the cup Wei Ying put in his hand, the dip on the bed when he sat beside him, the bittersweet but masterfully blended tea.

Perhaps, he had died. This may not have been what he expected of it but…

Looking at Wei Ying, who was waiting for his opinion on the tea with bright eyes, Wangji couldn't help but think it wasn't bad at all.

"It is good," Wangji said, letting the tea warm him up.

Wei Ying shone with the praise, and if Wangji would go blind from his smile, then so be it.

"Glad it's up to your tastes, Lan-er-gege! Maybe I should open a tea house if it's good enough to please even Hanguang Jun! Feeling better?"

Wangji nodded. Wei Ying's shoulder brushed against his, the touch light, playful and casual, sending another shock through his whole body.

During the Sunshot campaign, Wei Ying had never been this close. He had been all burning rage and deadly fury. His voice always carried an edge, a promise of danger and a song of power.

The Wei Ying at his side wore the same black robes, carried Chenqing at his waist and shadows under his sleeves, and yet…

A part of Wangji wanted to try again. To ask Wei Ying to come to Gusu with him. A deeper part of him wanted to take Wei Ying's hand and run. Leave this war, leave this future, go somewhere so far away their past had no chance of reaching them.

If he asked again, Wei Ying would push him away again. Even if this was death, he could not risk it.

Wei Ying raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? We're not departing until tomorrow, you can take a nap. No one wants to see Hanguang Jun even more tired."

Napping was not allowed by his clan's rules. Unless one was ill, rest should be kept to its proper time.

A nap was really tempting.

Wangji shook his head. "More sleep would have the opposite effect."

"Okay, sure," Wei Ying said, with a sigh that betrayed how little he expected anything else. He was close, so close Wangji could feel his ears burning. Wei Ying was delighted by his embarrassment, "Alright, then. Will Hanguang Jun join me for lunch later? Ah, maybe not lunch, what about dinner? I'm sure they'll have something a bit better than-"

Wei Ying was interrupted and they both turned their attention to the front of the tent. A Jiang disciple (or, perhaps, should they be called recruits at this point in time?) pushed aside the fabric so he could enter and, after a moment of being completely ignored, tried a light coff. The moment their attention fell on him, the disciple gave a bow, avoiding all possible eye contact.

“Apologies for the interruption, Hanguang Jun, Y-young Master Wei. The, hum, request Young Master Wei made…”

“Ah, right,” Wei Ying stood up, leaving the space beside Wangji painfully empty once again, “I gotta go, Lan Zhan. Preparations to make. Dinner later?”

Wangji nodded, the plea for him not to go tied and choking in his throat. With a smile and a wave, Wei Ying thanked the disciple and followed him out. And, like that, he was gone, and Wangji was alone in that tent. For the rest of the morning, he stayed alone with his thoughts.

During the Sunshot Campaign, there was rarely time to be idle or meditate. Not long after Wei Ying’s departure, Wangji found himself walking through the camp. A variety of preparations required his attention and he ended up involved in a couple other matters.

Wei Ying had left to prepare fierce corpses for their next movement. Digging graves and stirring resentment. Gossip ran quickly and unrestrained. It did little to ease the anxiety, and was often unreliable but, in Wangji's situation, it proved… Rather useful.

Mostly in that it gave Wangji a frame of reference as to where and, more importantly, when he was.

It was too clear to be an illusion, too long to be a dream. He was in the past.

He was given a chance to avoid the tragedies that followed. Perhaps Wangji should be more skeptical still. Perhaps he shouldn’t have it put past being caught in a spell or array in his weakened state.

But, on some level, it felt right. He was given a chance. It rang simple and true.

Wei Ying was back at digging graves and raising corpses. He had not arrived in time for lunch- Of course he hadn't. Wei Ying had once explained that taking his time to prepare allows even the corpses of farmers and merchants to stand their ground against well trained cultivators. Back then, Wangji had argued against the disturbance of resting souls and voiced his worries about what demonic cultivation would do to Wei Ying's heart.

His worries were still there, more present than ever. He saw where the demonic path had led Wei Ying, he wanted to avoid that end but…

Wei Ying, who proved how willing he was to sacrifice himself to protect others, would not step down and do nothing while he could do something. Trying to convince him after the war was won had been similarly pointless, but doing so when he knew the war might as well have been lost…

The Sunshot Campaign had been won on the backs of Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao, through methods righteous cultivators wouldn’t even think of.

Wangji knew he was running out of time already, if he wanted to be able to change anything. Sitting still was becoming quite a torture, so he kept himself busy, and focused on locating himself.

They wouldn’t move until the next day, they had to wait for Nie Mingjue’s troops to join them. He still remembered the meeting that followed. While the Jins had not yet officially joined the war, and wouldn’t until Wen Xu was dead, the other Sect Leaders would regroup and adjust the plans according to variables.

Brother arrived a few hours before sundown.

Wangji would never forget how the war had worn out his brother. Too many people were too far in their own heads to notice, but it was there, present in the tension in his shoulders and in the strain in his smile. Still, brother carried himself with the burden of reassuring every soldier that their fight wasn't lost just yet.

He never wanted to see his brother like that again, hanging by the thread of hope Jin Guangyao's information provided.

The Sunshot Campaign was over. They won, Wangji wanted to say.

Instead, he greeted him like always.

"I'm glad to see you well, Wangji," Brother said, with the brief relief that came whenever they met again. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Wangji answered. It wasn't a lie, but, from his brother's expression, it wasn't quite believable either. "I slept poorly."

"I see…" Brother nodded, not entirely convinced. "Be sure to get some rest tonight. Do you wish to be excused from the meeting?”

“There is no need.”

"Is Young Master Wei doing well?" Brother asked, with no malice in his voice.

The promise for dinner rang in his ear ( - as the smile flashed through his mind along with the question of when would be the last chance to see it - ). “We talked this morning. He has been busy since.”

He hoped it was enough. That his brother would not chase his thoughts for a moment, while he was uncertain how to express them. Often it helped, but the matter was still far more complicated than he could put it in simple words without reigning in his feelings and turmoil.

Brother hummed and changed the subject. They didn’t have much time in the end, Nie Mingjue arrived not long after and Jiang Wanyin appeared when the first stars came into view. The camp got busier, soldiers were allocated for the night. Chatter got louder, spirits were rising as news of the other fronts were more about victories than about losses.

Soon, Wangji was following his brother into the next strategy meeting.

The final notes of Rest faded, and the last wisps of resentful energy faded against the night. The corpses, Wens, their soldiers, the commoners dragged from their graves, all laid perfectly still. Wangji placed his hand on top of the guqin's cords.

The graves were being dug by their soldiers. Even battle tired, it was an important job to do. Even after taking all precautions, fierce corpses would raise eventually and have to be dealt with. Rest was the difference of having to deal with them in a year rather than in a week.

Wangji had gotten the title of Hanguang Jun for being one of the few cultivators willing to go out of his way to deal with the corpses that then turned to attack the local population.

Some of his arguments with Wei Ying came from there.

Wei Ying had played Rest with him. Chenqing and Wangji made for a mournful duet. Not even Wei Ying could smile after such a bloodshed.

Smaller skirmishes were rather one-sided when Wei Ying was involved. This one had ended quickly, the corpses managed to catch the Wen camp completely off guard and Wangji led their men after the confusion had set.

(War is not glorious and it is not fair. Wangji had never expected it to be. Perhaps, he had still been filled to the brim with disgust by all that the first time around, but now he counted the living while Wei Ying counted the dead.)

Wei Ying stayed by his side while they went through the post battle motions. Wangji appreciated it. For most of the day, they had different duties and moved at different paces. If he could keep Wei Ying close always, without a moment of hesitation, Wangji would.

The fact that Wei Ying actually followed him into his tent instead of saying goodbye at entrance only registered in his mind while he was already going through the motions of taking off his hair piece. Wangji caught his breath, frozen as a true jade statue as Wei Ying unceremoniously took out his outer robe and-

Ever since joining the Sunshot campaign, Wei Ying dressed himself with only the bare minimum to be decent. His outer robes, while still too open in the front, were just enough to keep his almost indecently short inner robes mostly safe from dirt and blood. It was still not appropriate to sleep in, as it seemed like he intended to do.

On Wangji's bed.

Wei Ying followed Wangji to his tent, discarded his outer robes and tossed himself face first on Wangji's bed.

Wangji's hand hovered over his hair piece as he stared at Wei Ying, heart thundering in his chest. Wei Ying mumbled something utterly incomprehensible and shifted to a slightly more comfortable position.

By all means, Wangji should wake him up and direct him to his own tent. At the very least, he should remind Wei Ying that he should clean himself before going to sleep.

After too much back forth within his own head, Wangji steeled his heart and approached the bed. He shouldn't allow Wei Ying to sleep there. With each step, he recited each of the rules he grew up with to himself. The ones about propriety first. Then, the ones about himself.

Wei Ying didn't return his feelings after all. It was cruel of him to keep feeding that hope.

He tried, but words came short and he couldn't bring himself to shake Wei Ying awake.

"Aren't you tired?" Wei Ying mumbled, turning his body around and words blurring together. Lazily, half asleep, he reached out towards Wangji.

"Mm," Was all Wangji could say. He wanted to run away.

He could sleep on the ground, or meditate through the night.

"Come to bed, sweetheart…"

Wei Ying grabbed at the edge of his sleeve, tugging gently. Wangji was going to pull away, this wasn't about him.

It was about Wei Ying, soft smile seeking companionship in the period he was the most lonely. Wangji swallowed dry and sat at the edge of the bed. This wasn't about him, it was about not letting Wei Ying fight alone to the end of his life.

Wei Ying kept pulling, mumbling, until Wangji relented and laid beside him, both cramped in a bed made for one. After a drawn-out struggle to get rid of his outer robes with someone clinging to him and while avoiding combusting, Wangji managed to settle.

Only then did Wei Ying sigh, content. Wangji made his peace with the fact that he wouldn't be able to get any sleep that night and, as Wei Ying wrapped his arms around him, finally felt the exhaustion crashing upon him.

"Lan Zhan… Stay with me?"

His eyelids had gone heavy, his mind drifting away to sleep already.

Yes. This time, he will.

At some point, in the middle of the night, Wangji woke up to the utter silence of camp, by the unfamiliar movements on his bed. Wei Ying had somehow snuggled closer, tangled their legs together and buried his head in the crook of Wangji's neck.

This wasn't a dream Wangji wanted to wake up from.

Wangji woke up properly at 5 am, Wei Ying still clinging to him. While his routine usually came in sharp, mechanical motions, this morning his awareness came as waves lapping at the shore.

First, it came as a lazy contentment, only barely resisting the lull of sleep. So uncomplicated. It would have been so easy to stay in it. Forever, if he was allowed.

Second, came the heat. The knowledge of how close Wei Ying, how his breath tickled his skin and how his light snore filled the tent burned his ears. Panic came sharp and sudden- Wei Ying, asleep, had his body pressed to his.

Third, came the guilt clawing at his chest. Wei Ying had been tired, and Wangji, who craved this closeness more than anything, had taken advantage of that. He needed rest, he needed peace, he didn't need to be burdened by feelings he couldn't return.

Wangji took a deep breath and tried to leave the bed. Wei Ying's response, even though he was still asleep, was almost immediate. He tightened his grip around Wangji's torso.

The idea that Wei Ying is just like a baby monkey should not surprise Wangji, and yet- It's endearing, makes it harder to fight the already powerful impulse to stay in bed a little longer.

But it was against the rules, so Wangji could find it in himself to actually get it.

The fourth wave rose along with Wei Ying, slow, beautiful and threatening to crash Wangji against the sand.

His bed hair was sticking in the shape of the pillow, his eyes were half-lidded, his robes were sliding off his shoulders… Wei Ying yawned and stretched under the first ray of morning light that made it into the tent.

Wangji got up faster than he believed was possible, and turned away, trying to put as much distance between them as he could.

He could only hear, Wei Ying's startled noise, the rustling of the sheets as he sat up straight.

"Lan-er-gege…" Wei Ying whined, drawing it out like he wanted to savour it.

"Wei Ying," Wangji tried to keep his voice firm, "Don't mess around if you don't mean it."

Please. Please, don't do that.

Wei Ying went silent.

He shouldn't- By all means, Wangji should not push Wei Ying away. That was precisely where he went wrong, and yet-

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying called, voice soft and Wangji still couldn't bring himself to look.

There was a sigh, and, from the corner of his sight, Wangji caught a glimpse of what Wei Ying was doing. Gathering his discarded outer robe and dusting it off as if it was enough to clean it.

"Lan Zhan," He called again, and Wangji, still untangling the knots in his heart, could not ignore the request to look at him.

The outer robe was folded over his arm (or was supposed to, if one could call that folding), and his gaze lingered on it for a moment before he met Wangji's eyes.

He looked as if he wanted to apologize.

Wangji teased up ever so slightly. Instead, Wei Ying asked:

"Lan Zhan, do you trust me?"

His response should have been an immediate yes, with no room for doubt. Hesitating, overthinking, those were the things that stopped him before. Being too deep in his own beliefs that he didn't actually stop to hear.

The answer was yes. He trusted Wei Ying.

But he had never seen Wei Ying holding himself like that. Truly apologetic, holding back something Wangji couldn't quite decipher. Something vulnerable even. It was brief, soon covered by a smile.

"Come to Yiling with me."

Flying to Yiling was… Challenging, to say the least. Yiling and the surrounding area was still under Wen control, even if they had cut about half of their supply lines. It seemed as if Wen Ruohan was not too invested in keeping. Between the Burial Mounds and the location, it didn't offer too much in regards to strategic advantage when launching any offensive troops.

There wasn't any effort in taking it for their side either.

For Wangji and Wei Ying, it meant that they had to take advantage of early dawn darkness to leave camp unnoticed, and fly low to avoid being spotted by Wen soldiers.

"Besides, one sword is better for that," Wei Ying stated, just to close off his list of arguments as to why he would not fly on Suibian. Others included the fact that he was tired (but then, why wouldn't Wangji be?), that Bichen was in fact, strong enough to carry both (it was but that was beside the point) and that he had forgotten it (the one argument that begged the follow up question of why).

(Wangji didn't voice any of them. The memory of how he reacted to these was still rather fresh.)

Wei Ying jumped on Bichen, body turned to Wangji's, one foot the closest to the sword's tip, the other between Wangji's.

The sword wobbled and then almost fell even though they were barely above the ground.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying yelped and laughed, a bit quiet. He held Wangji by the waist and threw his weight back until they found some balance.

Wangji wasn't sure he would survive the ride all the way to Yiling.

The whole way, Wangji could only look forward, and to the directions Wei Ying pointed. He tried to not overthink it, to not show his embarrassment and keep his mind from wandering into directions that would lead to his body betraying him.

If he could avoid it, he would rather not have Wei Ying teasing him for that. He wasn't sure his heart could withstand this type of mockery from him.

It never came. Wei Ying pushed closer and didn't draw back, never left on a word to shatter his hopes again. It was odd.

It made every doubt Wangji had resurface. Wangji wanted nothing more than to shove them down, lock them down in a little box and enjoy whatever Wei Ying was willing to give.

How could something feel so wrong and so right at once?

Wei Ying was Wei Ying. He was sure of it. But he was still very much unlike how he had been during the war. He saw glimpses of the feared Yiling Patriarch in the meeting and battlefield, and it had never been so easily disarmed.

It helped that Wangji hadn't brought up any of the topics he insisted on every time they met during the war, but it would still beg the question of whether this was simply how he would have responded back then or if something else had changed.

Perhaps…

Something else had changed.

And Wangji was missing just what it might have been. His first guess had been that Wei Ying too had returned somehow, but it didn't quite match with what he was seeing.

“Get out” rang in his head. This Wei Ying invited him step after step.

They sneaked through the town, in back alleys and through whichever path they could avoid being seen. Wei Ying joked about all the lotus stealing being a great training for this. Jumping over walls was not how Wangji had expected this to go, but there they were.

Nor was invading the Yiling Supervisory Office, heading straight towards the inner lodgings. A Wen soldier spotted them, and promptly turned his face to the other way and pretended to not notice them. It wasn’t subtle, not the least. He simply kept walking along his patrol, even as Wei Ying waved.

For a moment, Wangji frowned, he wanted to ask Wei Ying what was that. But then, it dawned on him. That man seemed familiar, but in farmer clothes and a painfully wounded leg that would never fully recover, working on the fields of radishes and potatoes.

Wei Ying’s eyes still said “trust me”, as he took Wangji to Wen Qing’s office.

“Lady Wen!” He waved at her and offered her a bow, who stared at them with the same amount of disbilief Wangji dared not to express.

“Wei Wuxian, what are you doing here?” She asked, putting down the herbs she was preparing. Unsaid went the question of what Wangji was doing there with him.

“Nothing much, I just wanted to show Lan Zhan the place!”

“I see,” she said, not sounding like she was buying it that much, but regardless, she got up and offered Wangji a bow, which he returned, “Hanguang Jun, I hope you have not come here with intentions to further this war.”

“I have not,” Wangji stated. It was merely the truth.

She measured him openly, making her own assessment of how much of a threat he was. Wangji would have been doing the same, if the memory of their last encounter hadn’t been burned into his memory.

There was a woman willing to give up anything for her loved ones, and once, she had done so for Wei Ying.

“Has Wei Wuxian explained anything?” Wen Qing asked, and then looked at Wei Ying, who had a very guilty expression on his face, “Anything at all?”

“Not yet.”

“To be fair, I hadn’t gotten the chance.” Wei Ying said, ignoring all the times in which the two of them were alone, including the time it took for them to arrive in Yiling.

Wen Qing sighed. “It’s better if you are not seen here, we are still trying to not raise suspicions, so it is better if you don’t show up here often” she gave Wei Ying another pointed look, “but the men here are loyal to me first. They won’t report anything back to the Nightless City. We have been lucky to be able to stay outside this war and we hope it stays like that.”

She spoke with all the certainty of someone who would do anything to guarantee that it would be the case.

“Lady Wen’s family saved me and Jiang Cheng after the attack at Lotus Pier.” Wei Ying said, his tone much more somber. “Wen Ning recovered Uncle Jiang’s and Madam Yu’s bodies, they hid us until we could get back on our feet…”

He was about to continue, when there was a knock on the door. Wen Qing and Wei Ying tensed up. Even if the people around were trustworthy, the time was such that they couldn’t really let their guards down for long.

“Excuse me, Lady Wen…” An elderly voice came from the outside and both relaxed almost right away. The old lady opened the door slowly, “I don’t wish to interrupt but…”

“Xian-gege!”

The child sprinted towards Wei Ying, who dropped all the seriousness and dropped to his knees to catch him into a hug.

“A-Yuan,” Wen Qing called, in a tone that meant “don’t forget your manners”, but with the shadow of a smile threatening to show.

“Sorry, he heard Young Master Wei was here…” The old lady apologized, more fond than truly sorry.

Wangji couldn’t blame her, seeing how easily he lightened up the mood.

“Is A-Yuan being naughty?” Wei Ying teased, picking the child up, bouncing him up in his arms.

“I’m not!” He tried, laughing.

“I don’t know…” Wei Ying pretended to ponder about it, “Lady Wen, has A-Yuan been a good child?”

“You certainly have not been any good influence around here.”

“So mean!” Wei Ying pouted.

“Xian-gege, are you staying today?” A-Yuan asked, full of hope.

“Well, I don’t know. Lan Zhan, do you think we can stay for a little?”

And seeing such a scene, there wasn’t any way Wangji could have said no.

They had a lovely morning. Not much could be discussed with A-Yuan around. Not that he wasn’t a good child, despite the early interruption. It is a silent understanding that no one present in Wen Qing’s room wants to burden him with matters related to the war any more than they absolutely have to.

Instead, Wei Ying asked about Wen Ning, who was currently on his way back from the Nightless City, this time to stay, should everything occur according to plan. Granny has been in good health, and Yiling continues peacefully forgotten for the time being. The price for radishes have gone down and Wei Ying suggests that they could try planting A-Yuan if that’s the case.

They got kicked out of Wen Qing’s office before Wei Ying could suggest getting some drinks to go with the conversation. But it was fine, since A-Yuan agreed to show Wangji all his favorite things in the inner lodgings, which included his favorite people. Aunts and Uncles and his grandmother, with whom Wangji had had a passing familiarity from his brief visit to the Burial Mounds. Even if he couldn’t memorize all their names, he would commit to memory the smiles they put for a child, past all the uncertainty the future had.

Wei Ying complained that he wasn’t included in that list. A-Yuan felt bad and offered him one of his toys but Wei Ying just turned around and said he didn’t want it.

“You don’t need to. I know Wei Ying.”

After that, Wei Ying dramatized this terrible betrayal for the whole morning while A-Yuan clung to “Nice-gege” instead.

Once they ran out of people to talk in the courtyard, they spent the rest of the morning playing with A-Yuan away from the people still working. His grandmother thanked them for looking after, it wasn’t often that she got time to rest and her bones were tired, she said.

“Young Master Wei visits whenever he can slip away from the fronts,” she told him, while Wei Ying was engrossed in telling A-Yuan some ghost story.

Wangji was pulled to aid in the storytelling soon after, and although he doubted he could make it any more entertaining, Wei Ying didn’t miss a beat in playing with his usual intonation and wording to give it more life.

He was not entirely sure what to make of the odd roles Wei Ying made him play and the additions he made to those tales but A-Yuan seemed to have enjoyed them.

Lunch came and went, and while they had to stay away from the eyes of the more wary people and from the ones who didn’t fully trust Wen Qing yet, they had a pleasant meal. It wasn’t too lively, with storm clouds in the distance always in sight, but the closest family didn’t take long to offer Wangji a place at their table too.

Wei Ying seemed content to share a drink with these people anyway. When Wangji lowered his defenses, it was hard to not get swept away in the mood.

A-Yuan was taken for a nap not long after, and Wei Ying took the opportunity to fill Wangji in with his worries about the people that had helped him and his family before, that even with a war being fought against their Sect at large, he couldn’t sit by and leave them to their luck, not when they had risked so much for him and Jiang Wanyin.

“I won’t be able to speak for them all the time, so Wen Qing can’t just declare that she is joining the Sunshot Campaign when they barely have any combatants.” Wei Ying shrugged, defaulting to trying to pass it as no big deal, “I can’t tell this to anyone else. Jiang Cheng would go crazy if he knew.”

Unsaid went that still he brought Wangji. The beginning of the afternoon went over a cup of tea and a jar of fruit wine, an unspoken trust laid bare between them. Wei Ying didn’t ask Wangji to keep a secret, and Wangji didn’t have to question much further. He knew how far Wei Ying would go to protect these people, and Wangji had been offered a chance to stand beside him.

By the time A-Yuan returned, they were able to put the war aside for a while longer and play pretend until nightfall.

They stayed for dinner, as neither had the heart to leave while A-Yuan was awake.

Which might have accidentally led to A-Yuan being more stubborn about going to bed than usual.

Wen Qing took one look at the situation and told them it was them to get A-Yuan to sleep. At a reasonable time, she added, giving Wei Ying a very pointed look.

“Maybe we’ll just hide in A-Yuan’s room and let him have all the fun he wants,” Wei Ying suggested.

Wen Qing just turned to Wangji instead, very much not willing to take part in this particular discussion.

“A-Yuan must be tired,” Wangji argued.

“Are you sure? Does he look tired to you?” Wei Ying countered, pointing to a very clearly sleepy A-Yuan. The child was trying his best, however.

He barely noticed that, while Wei Ying and Wangji discussed whether A-Yuan should stay awake longer, they had been taking him to his room.

Wei Ying placed A-Yuan on his bed. The child was tired, but still fought a bit against the sheets. His efforts to stay awake were met with more laughter, with getting his hair ruffled again.

"But I'm not-" A-Yuan tried to say between yawns, "tired…"

"You sure aren't if you can kick around like this. Want to know a secret? Everyone in Nice-gege's Sect goes to sleep super early!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, they go to sleep at 9 p.m. and wake up at 5 a.m. Every single day!

"I can wake up at five too!"

"But without any afternoon naps. Can you really do it?"

"No naps?"

"None at all."

A-Yuan yawned again. This time, pulled his blanket a bit closer, as if he wanted to hug it. Sleep was winning, slowly but surely.

"Is it true, Nice-gege?"

"Mn," Wangji nods. "A-Yuan should go to sleep early if he wishes to have more energy to play tomorrow."

"Okay!" A-Yuan said, immediately closing his eyes tight. Wei Ying scoffed (A-Yuan listened to Wangji easily but always argued with him, at least a bit.)

Wei Ying lifted his hand, looking over to Wangji and counting on his fingers from one to two to three.

"Xian-gege…" A-Yuan whispered, opening just one eye as if it could hide him from Wangji this way. Wei Ying looked around, pretending to cover for him before gesturing to him to keep talking.

The knowing glance he gave Wangji was enough for Wangji to play along and turn his face away with a small smile on his face.

"Can you play the flute? Please?"

"Of course," Wei Ying answered, and pulled Chenqing from his sash. He opened a mischievous smile and whispered something to A-Yuan. The child giggled and pulled to covers up to hide while Wei Ying pulled back and turned to Wangji, "So, Lan Zhan, for no reason at all, would you be willing to play with me?"

"Mn," Wangji silently pulled his guqin from his qiankun sleeve and set it on his lap, "I fear it will wake up A-Yuan."

There was a tiny gasp from under the blanket. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s so deep asleep already he won’t even notice. What should we play, Lan Zhan? We can’t play any lullabies…”

Wangji pondered for a moment, but before he could find any suggestion or witty reply, he saw the rise of an idea show up on Wei Ying’s face. At first, it came full of joy, but then was pulled into a halt. He saw those eyes look at him, almost asking for permission. It threw Wangji back a little, since Wei Ying seemed somewhat nervous.

He nodded to him. Whatever it was, Wangji wouldn’t deny it.

Wei Ying brought the dizi to his lips and Wangji placed his hands above the strings, ready to follow whatever melody he decided to play.

The first notes of WangXian flowed and Wangji found himself short of breath. It must have shown, somehow, on his face, because when he met Wei Ying’s gaze, his eyes, focused solely on Wangji, said “I know.”

It took a moment before Wangji joined the song on his qugin. In a small room in Yiling, they played together, from beginning to end, caring not for the war. It was just them, and the little one they spent the day playing with. Wei Ying had called him, shared with him so much, and now, gave back to him his song.

“I know,” his eyes said, throughout the whole song, not missing a note.

From Wangji’s sheet, from his guqin, it sounded like a wish, like a dream of a peaceful life, safe from the hurts of the world. It came with longing for someone always beyond his reach, with all the words he couldn’t speak.

Wei Ying took his song and turned it into a promise of home. The whistles from Chenqing guided the familiar song into something impossibly softer and warmer. The dizi filled the soul of the song with what was missing. It was as much an answer as it was a duet.

They played it, even after A-Yuan had already fallen deep asleep, and let the song reach its end.

Wangji was about to call his name, to ask, when Wei Ying brought his finger to his lips in a request for silence. He looked over to A-Yuan and smiled. Without much of a hurry, he fixed the blankets over the child’s sleeping for and got up, signaling for the door. Wangji hesitated to leave that tiny room, as if this dream would end just beyond the door.

Soon, they would have to leave Yiling, return to the war front, where Wei Ying couldn’t smile like that, where things began to go wrong.

Outside, Wei Ying waited for him, and Wangji carefully closed the door behind them.

“Wei Ying-”

“Lan Zhan-”

They started at the same time, then stopping to hear what the other had to say. Wei Ying just laughed at that but Wangji was still too breathless to have any coherent answer.

“I should have asked but- I don’t think anyone else heard it. It can stay between us,” Wei Ying said, and then waited for an answer.

With all the eloquence he could muster, what Wangji could say was just, “You remembered.”

“Ah, that’s- A bit of an oversimplification but… Yeah.” Wei Ying scratched the back of his head, “I know I haven’t given the clearest signs back then but, Lan Zhan, I’m not messing around for nothing now. I mean it.”

“I mean it,” he said, and Wangji’s heart felt about to implode.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying called, worry starting to creep into his voice. Wangji looked at him, even if his eyes had never strayed from him, and saw what seemed to be an apology reach his lips.

Wangji interrupted before he could hear it, “Is this a dream?”

He had gone over this already. He truly had. Everything indicated that it wasn’t but his reality, the reality he knew was far harsher, far more cruel. Why? How could this be possible? The whip still burned on his back, opening wounds. How could Wei Ying look at his with so much more affection when-

“Lan Zhan, this is going to sound weird, if it’s too weird, just ignore it, okay?” Wei Ying reached for his hand, slowly and carefully, “What is the most recent thing you remember?”

The question went like lightning through his spine. Wangji answered before he could think twice.

“The siege. Of the Burial Mounds.”

(He thought of his punishment, of course, but he couldn’t tell, not that.)

Wangji had expected some other reaction to that. Shock, perhaps, a frown. Perhaps, some reassurance that that has not happened. Perhaps, he wished Wei Ying would brush it off with a joke, after all, why would anyone lay siege to a mountain of corpses?

Instead, Wei Ying held Wangji’s hand more firmly, all gentle and comforting.

“Ah, Lan Zhan…” He brought it up to his own face, leaning into Wangji’s touch while keeping him grounded. His voice had the smallest hint of a tremble, “I’m here, Lan Zhan, I- It has not happened yet. I’m here with you. We’re here.”

Wangji took a sharp breath.

“Wei Ying…”

“I know, I died. I left you behind. But I’m serious about this, Lan Zhan. I love you. I want to be with you,” Wei Ying stepped forward, closing the distance between them, “I want to spend my whole life with you, and I don’t want it to be short.”

“How… Did you…?”

“It’s a long story,” Wei Ying chuckled, “Would you let-”

Wangji pulled Wei Ying into a kiss before he could finish, all urgency and hunger. It was clumsy, Wei Ying had gasped and almost stumbled onto his chest, but opened up, held on to him, kissed back with equal desire.

If it had been a lapse in judgement, a moment in which his self-control faltered once again, then Wei Ying grounded him in the reality of it with matching passion. Wangji felt his hands through his hair brushing against his forehead ribbon, his heat and his everything.

He ran his hand down his body and ate up every little noise and Wei Ying pressed closer, inviting him to explore more.

From the other end of the hallway, Wen Qing cleared her throat.

They broke the kiss but didn’t part any more than necessary. Wangji spared a moment to take in the breathlessness and swollen lips.

“I don’t care if you’ve finally solved whatever that there was between you, but I’ll not have you being this indecent out in the open in my office.” She crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

Wei Ying pouted. “Lady Wen, let me have some fun with my husband, will you?”

“Try to not kill him before you can have a proper wedding,” She shot back, looking at Wangji as if she was judging whether he would be in need of treatment or not. Wangji felt like he might, but words failed him again.

“What?” Wei Ying replied with fake outrage, “I would never! Besides, Lan Zhan is too strong to be felled by little old me.”

“Then you might be interested in remembering that neither of you are supposed to be here, and if people notice you’re gone, you’ll get everyone in trouble. Or at the very least get a room if you’re going to be all over each other anyway.”

“Alright, alright…” Wei Ying sighed, taking a step back but holding Wangji’s hand still. He gave him one look, full with the intention of never letting go. “Thanks, Lady Wen. For the afternoon too.”

“Don’t mention it. A-Yuan gets upset if you take too long between visits,” Wen Qing dismissed, “Are you going to take a room or leave?”

“We’d better get going. Lan Zhan and I have a lot to do, don’t we?”

Wangji replied with a “Mn” that had Wei Ying squeeze his hand while Wen Qing did her best impression of wanting to be anywhere but in front of those two.

“Take care,” she still said, seeing them out in the dead of the night.

“We will,” Wangji promised.

“Husband?” Wangji finally asked, as they soared through the night.

Wei Ying laughed, delighted under the stars, “We do have a lot to catch up on.”