As Wei Ying poked listlessly at the dregs of his meal, body half sprawled across the table and head balanced on his knuckles, Lan Wangji quietly cleared up his dishes and stacked them on the tray he’d placed on the floor earlier. Having completed his task and seeing that Wei Ying had moved onto a cup of tea, still absently holding his chopsticks in his free hand, he peered into Wei Ying’s bowl. Only a few bitter greens remained in the bottom of it, never Wei Ying’s favorite no matter how many spices, oils, or pastes were used to alter the taste. Biting back a smile, Lan Wangji rose, rounded the table, and knelt behind his husband. His fingers wrapped around Wei Ying’s, the both of them now clutching the chopsticks. He guided the chopsticks into the bowl and then to his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
It wasn’t so bad, though he coughed around the delayed heat. Over the years, he’d grown more used to the flavors Wei Ying preferred. He welcomed the fondly put upon expression that bloomed on Wei Ying’s face, liked it very much, in fact.
“Lan Zhan!” he scolded, leaning back against Lan Wangji’s chest. That, Lan Wangji liked, too: the scolding and the closeness both. For either, he was greedy, but in tandem, they were special to him. “You don’t always have to do that.”
“Mn,” he answered. “It’s only fair.”
“What’s fair about it? When did I ever eat something of yours you didn’t want to eat? Lan Zhan, I’m pretty sure I’d remember…” Wei Ying tensed against him. Sighing, he closed his eyes and bowed his head forward. Voice low and unhappy, he asked, “I did, didn’t I? When?”
Lan Wangji swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, his guilt made manifest. “I spoke in haste,” he said. In truth, he hadn’t thought anything about it, the words falling indelicately from his mouth. In their early days, once he fully realized that Wei Ying wasn’t forgetful because he’d been careless with his first life, he’d become careful to avoid just such a slip. It seemed he was getting sloppy; such a thing, he couldn’t abide.
He hadn’t truly even been thinking about the incident in question when he spoke the words. It was just another fact that made up the weft and warp of Lan Wangji’s life, a singular moment that he treasured from a time where there were few such moments to treasure.
In isolation, it was a fine memory. It was only in context that it lost its shine and it was only in knowing it hurt Wei Ying in the remembrance of it that it rotted entirely.
“When, Lan Zhan?”
“At Jinlintai,” he said. “You once drank for me.” Back then, he’d been so unbending. What would it truly have hurt for him to drink the alcohol that was offered to him? His brother hadn’t had any issue with doing so, but it had meant something to Lan Wangji that Wei Ying had seen his discomfort and stepped in. It was important to hold such things close. Every other person, even, he suspected, Jiang Wanyin, only remembered Wei Ying at his worst in those days, but Lan Wangji wanted to do better.
In and of itself, it was the kind of thing that could be easily forgotten by anyone. Lan Wangji might have forgotten, too, if not for the near pathological need he had in those days to seize hold of Wei Ying, though then it was merely a figurative embrace, and never let go. Many years on, it remained a terrible habit.
Lan Wangji hadn’t always been kind about Wei Ying’s inability to remember. He regretted much.
“I don’t…” Wei Ying clutched at Lan Wangji’s thighs, fighting the skirts of his robes as he parted Lan Wangji’s legs so he might sneak between them, like if he could get close enough, he might unlock the memory of it for himself.
Locking his arms around Wei Ying’s torso, he nosed aside the chaotic fall of his husband’s hair and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. His skin tasted of sandalwood beneath Lan Wangji’s lips. “Wei Ying, it’s alright.”
“It’s not,” Wei Ying said. He refused to budge, not loosening up at all no matter how many kisses Lan Wangji dusted across his skin. His fingers dug into Lan Wangji’s kneecaps, almost painful, until Lan Wangji laced them with his own. “What else have I forgotten?”
They would have to scour their pasts for an answer Lan Wangji did not want. Wei Ying loved him and their past mattered, but there was no point in litigating this. It would only make them both feel bad, Wei Ying because he saw it as a failure of his own devotion and Lan Wangji because he hated to see Wei Ying in pain.
“Lan Zhan.”
“Wei Ying,” he said, “it is of little import. I didn’t mean—I would just like to do for you what you’ve done for me. There is no more meaning to it than that.”
It might have taken a minute for Wei Ying to relax or hours. As Lan Wangji held him, he didn’t know or care how long it was. They could stay here forever if that was what Wei Ying needed.
“But you deserve—”
“I have what I deserve,” Lan Wangji said, “and what I want.” Wei Ying’s cheek was soft beneath his lips, but this kiss, as with the other kisses, did nothing to lift Wei Ying’s mood. Wei Ying didn’t pout once about Lan Wangji’s thoroughly meandering path and how neglected his lips felt as a result of it. “Let’s go to bed.”
Wei Ying extricated himself and strode over to the set of shelves where a variety of their things were stored, spare paper and ink, their personal library, a few incense burners, vases, and the like. “I’m not ready yet, Lan Zhan. I’ll be along in a bit, okay?”
When he awoke in the morning to find Wei Ying stumbling out of bed at the same time he did, mumbling about needing to do research, he wasn’t surprised, though he was disappointed.
He could only hope it didn’t become a preoccupation. Though if it did, Lan Wangji knew who was to blame for it.
Lan Wangji passed the day as he usually did, though Wei Ying was rather less present throughout it than he was used to or enjoyed. How he’d survived the long years of their separation was beyond his understanding and grew hazier with every day that passed in much brighter fashion. When more than a few hours passed without Wei Ying flitting across his field of vision, he grew nervous and unhappy, bereft without the sweet words and kisses Wei Ying usually bestowed before rushing off to teach a class, prepare a group of juniors for a solo night hunt, go off to spoil the rabbits like he pretended he didn’t do, whatever moved him at that particular moment.
It was a quiet sort of day almost to the end of it. To match it, the sky was gray and blandly serene.
At least, it was gray and bland and quiet until Jingyi sprinted up to him, robes and ribbon flying, shouting like a demon was chasing him. “Hanguang jun! There’s—”
Lan Wangji quelled him with a single glance.
Abashed and red-faced from exertion, he bowed in apology. “There’s something you should see.”
Lan Wangji’s heart, as it always did when danger presented itself, slammed against his chest. And, as it always did, his first thought bent toward, “Wei Ying?”
Jingyi nodded, biting his lip.
“The library.”
“Yes.”
This time, Lan Wangji didn’t scold him when he rushed down the path that led there.
Lan Wangji followed at what could barely be called a more controlled pace, overtaking him within a handful of meters of the entrance.
What he found—and his mind, in the meantime, had conjured plenty of gruesome possibilities—didn’t register immediately. When it did, Lan Wangji was flabbergasted.
A pool of robes and, sitting in the center of it, a wild-haired child. Impossible.
Lan Wangji would recognize the night black tangle cascading down that too-small back; he would recognize the sparkling slate gray of his eyes; he could not, no matter how much he stared, recognize the nearly motionless body sitting in that mess of fabric, red ribbon falling over his bony shoulder.
Across the surface of the desk before him, paper was scattered across the surface. A brush spilled a spreading pool of ink across a stack of pages, warping from saturation.
Wei Ying flinched as Jingyi tumbled through the doorway and turned wide, somber eyes on them. Absently, Lan Wangji caught Jingyi’s robe and pulled him upright before he fell on his face and further disturbed Wei Ying.
Nobody else was here currently so there was no way to tell when this might have happened. If Wei Ying had been this quiet the whole time, it wasn’t surprising that no one had yet noticed what was going on. Why Wei Ying hadn’t cried out or otherwise drawn attention to himself was a mystery.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked to be around three or four, though it was difficult to tell with how slight his frame was, as though he was malnourished.
He hoped, no matter what else had happened, that Wei Ying would recognize him.
“That’s me,” he answered, voice high with a child’s pitch. “Who’re you?”
“Lan Wangji,” he answered, keeping the disappointment from his voice. It wasn’t Wei Ying—at least not this Wei Ying’s—fault. As he approached, he read the pages he could see. As he might have expected, they seemed to relate to memory, though how these notes resulted in this were beyond Lan Wangji’s comprehension. Crouching, he studied Wei Ying’s face. “Or Lan Zhan.”
Wei Ying offered a lopsided smile. “Pretty shushu.”
Behind him, Jingyi choked. Lan Wangji could not be certain why. Wei Ying said more shameless things than that on a daily basis. “Jingyi, you will take care of my duties for the rest of the afternoon. Let my brother know there has been an incident, but that I’m taking care of it.”
“Hanguang—”
“Please, Jingyi.”
After stammering a few times, Jingyi said, more decisive, “Sure, yeah. I can do that. I’m not just Lan Jingyi, barely old enough—”
“Jingyi, you will be fine. If it is too daunting, my brother will help.”
“Right. Zongzhu. He’ll help.” Jingyi’s voice caught, but when Lan Wangji looked back at him, he appeared determined. “I’ll do my best.” Departing with another slight bow, he said, under his breath, “Why couldn’t Sizhui have been here to find him instead?”
During his flight from the library, he nearly tripped again. Lan Wangji magnanimously ignored the colorful curse that fell from Jingyi’s mouth as he regained his balance. At these antics, Wei Ying laughed, a trilling, sweet little sound that heartened Lan Wangji. Despite Lan Wangji’s concerns, Wei Ying didn’t seem to be suffering from his misadventure. “Silly gege.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji said in agreement. “He is very silly. Would you like to come with me?”
Wei Ying tilted his head, mouth pinched as he thought over this question. “Okay.” When he tried to stand, his legs and arms tangled in the voluminous robes around him. Stymied, he plopped back down again in the center of them, looking around and around himself. “Hm.”
The expression on his face was almost the exact same one he wore when he was caught up in a problem he didn’t yet know how to solve. Picking at the fabric, he sniffed haughtily and hummed again, more annoyed.
A smile tugged at the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth at this display of wounded dignity. “May I help?”
Nodding, Wei Ying held up his arms. Plucking free a sash from the pool of fabric, Lan Wangji managed to wrap Wei Ying up in his innermost shirt in a way that looked somewhat ridiculous, but protected his modesty. He couldn’t really walk on his own, but he tried, taking hold of Lan Wangji’s hand before finally giving up. “Shushu?” he asked, shy, as he held his hands up. “My legs hurt.”
“Your legs?”
Wei Ying nodded, ducking his head.
Scooping him up, Lan Wangji carefully looked them over for injuries. There was no sign of any wounds that he could see. Only the jut of his kneecaps and the lack of fat around his calves and thighs disturbed Lan Wangji. “What kind of hurt?”
Wei Ying blinked and then scrunched up his face. “Like when I have to run too fast,” he said finally. “They hurt.”
Lan Wangji frowned, but accepted Wei Ying’s word as the truth. “I’ll bring you to the physician,” he said. It was probably a good idea anyway. Whatever had happened to him might have caused other damage, too.
“Physician?” Wei Ying asked, suspicious, pronouncing the word with slow disbelief.
“They will help with your pain.”
Wei Ying hummed with more cynicism than any child his age should have. It made something clench, vice-like, in Lan Wangji’s chest.
As he walked down the path that led to the medical pavilion, Wei Ying seated ridiculously on his hip, many of the disciples looked on with curiosity. At first, Wei Ying seemed fine with the scrutiny, mumbling hellos, but eventually he tired of it and instead hid his face against Lan Wangji’s neck.
The rest of the walk, too long in Lan Wangji’s estimation, passed uneventfully.
Like this, Wei Ying was too quiet.
The physician examined Wei Ying for such a long time that Lan Wangji was beginning to get nervous. Wei Ying suffered through it with more decorum than he ever expressed when he visited the physician as an adult, but by the time the physician was done, he seemed strained, too, his lips thin and eyes wide. His face was pale and he kept throwing looks in Lan Wangji’s direction.
“Wei gongzi is fine physically. I believe the pain is just from the sudden change in his bone structure and musculature,” the physician concluded some minutes later. It was somewhat to his credit that he didn’t complain about Wei Ying’s antics this time. More weeks than not, Wei Ying was forced to come to take care of some injury or other. The physicians all disdained him to one degree or other for darkening their doorstep in this way. Few of them understood Wei Ying’s need for work and felt that he was wasting their time when he brought injuries on himself with his experiments. They saw him as careless, when often it was the opposite. He merely studied that which hadn’t been studied before. Along the way, Lan Wangji had learned to accept it as long as Wei Ying showed caution in his undertakings.
They should rightfully blame Lan Wangji for Wei Ying’s overabundance of care. If it were left up to Wei Ying, Wei Ying would never come to them for assistance. That was the bargain they’d struck that allowed Lan Wangji to feel at ease.
Lan Wangji looked again at Wei Ying, so quiet and still, like he wasn’t there with them at all. He might not have known Wei Ying was in any pain by his expression and bearing, not so very different from how he acted when he was an adult. “Is there anything you can do?”
“It should resolve itself soon enough,” the physician said. “His access to spiritual energy has been restored. That will assist. If he’s still in pain in the morning, I will give him something.”
It seemed impossible to him to imagine Mo Xuanyu had such early training. Lan Wangji studied Wei Ying’s face again. “He’s too young now, surely?”
The physician shrugged. “His body appears to have reverted to its state when he was four years old or so. He must have had some training by then because he has one and his body knows what to do with it. He might be more tired than normal for the next few days, Lan er gongzi, but he’ll be fine until this is resolved.”
Then it wasn’t Mo Xuanyu’s body he was occupying now. It was his own. It was the only thing that made sense.
His mother had been an accomplished cultivator; she must have taken great care with him before she passed. His father, too, would have helped him. All that potential was already there. It made Lan Wangji feel sick to think of how this had been lost.
“How long?”
“I should think you would know your husband’s brand of mischief in greater detail than anyone else in Cloud Recesses,” the physician said plainly. It wasn’t, he thought, that the physician wanted to be unkind in particular. Of course, that didn’t stop him from seeming callous in his manner toward Wei Ying. As with the other elders, Lan Wangji tread a careful line, fighting the urge to chastise them whenever they found fault with Wei Ying’s methods. The only thing that stayed his tongue was knowing Wei Ying would not appreciate becoming the grounds by which Lan Wangji was made to seek punishment.
Lan Wangji swallowed, knowing he would not get a better answer here. “Thank you.”
He scooped Wei Ying into his arms, careful to avoid jostling him too much. From the tiny sound he made, Lan Wangji was not entirely successful in shielding him from further discomfort. Even so, Wei Ying wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, settling like he was meant to fit in his embrace.
It was only once he returned to the jingshi, Wei Ying asleep against his chest, that he remembered that Wei Ying would need clothing suitable to his size. Sending off a messenger spell, he asked Jingyi to bring suitable robes.
Before Jingyi arrived, Lan Wangji attempted to place Wei Ying on their bed multiple times so he might better rest. Whenever he tried to put Wei Ying down, Wei Ying whimpered and clutched harder at the collar of his robes. Finally, he simply reclined on the bed himself. Though he was anxious to begin working on this problem, he couldn’t interrupt Wei Ying’s rest.
Jingyi’s knock finally rang out. Wei Ying didn’t stir once. “Hanguang jun?” he called through the door in a harsh, overloud whisper. “May I come in?”
“Come.”
Encumbered by far more than Lan Wangji had requested, Jingyi awkwardly stepped into the room. In his hands, there was a tray filled with more food than Lan Wangji knew what to do with. Tucked under one arm were the robes Lan Wangji had requested. Under the other was roughly four or five books as well as the haphazard collection of notes Wei Ying had been taking when this mistake befell him.
“I wasn’t sure what you might need,” Jingyi said, defensive.
“You may place the books and the tray on the table,” he answered, gesturing toward the other corner of the room. “Did you bring sleep robes as well?”
Jingyi was quick and efficient, if jumpy, and, most importantly, was careful as he put down the notes, books, and tray. “Yes, Hanguang jun. Can I bring you a cup of tea since I’m here?”
“No need. Just bring the sleep robes for now.”
Jingyi nodded in assent, stopping only long enough to make sure the robes Wei Ying would need to wear during the day were appropriately folded. On the one unoccupied corner of the table, he left them behind. “Here,” he said, holding out the second set as he approached. “Do you need help getting them on him?”
Though it would be a trial, Lan Wangji shook his head. He didn’t believe Wei Ying would appreciate it when he came back to himself. “I will take care of it. Thank you, Jingyi.”
Jingyi remained frozen to the spot. “This is weird.”
“Mn.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?”
“You’ve done enough. Go rest. I may need more assistance over the next few days.”
“Right,” Jingyi replied. “Of course. I’ll—whoa.” As he backed up a few steps, he again nearly tripped over himself, this time the hem of his robes. “I’ll be ready. Whatever you need. When Sizhui’s back from his night hunt, I’m sure he’ll want to help, too.” Jingyi still didn’t retreat, hands fidgeting as he stood by the door.
“What is it, Jingyi?”
“Wei qianbei will be alright, won’t he?”
“The physician said he would be tired as his body adjusted to the change. He will be alright.” There was no other choice in the matter. Lan Wangji would solve this. It wasn’t permanent.
Lan Wangji woke up at mao shi and felt something was wrong. As he blinked his eyes open, morning light already spilling into the room, it became immediately apparent what the problem was.
Wei Ying was awake, sitting upright and staring down at him. Tears filled his wide, expressive eyes and his mouth trembled. Except for that, he was deathly still and too quiet. Rousing himself, Lan Wangji said, “Wei Ying?” When he reached out to touch Wei Ying’s face, Wei Ying flinched back. Though Wei Ying forced himself again to stillness after that, he couldn’t entirely control how his body now shook, leaflike and just as fragile. “Wei Ying, what is it? Did you have a dream?”
“Pretty shushu was hurt,” he said. “He wouldn’t move.”
Lan Wangji sat up. “I’m not hurt. I was just sleeping.”
Wei Ying’s face scrunched in confusion.
“I promise you,” he said, wishing for once that he wasn’t such a heavy sleeper. It was a blessing when Wei Ying got it into his head to stay up half the night—he didn’t know what he would do if he slept as lightly as Wei Ying did, who would wake for any reason at all, though he’d gotten good at falling back asleep immediately instead of torturing himself with restless nights—but now it felt like he might have scared Wei Ying. That thought, he couldn’t countenance. “Were you trying to wake me up?”
Wei Ying shook his head, repeating, “You didn’t move.”
Wei Ying’s meaning could be opaque at the best of times, but through a child’s filter, it was even harder to parse. “I don’t move when I sleep,” he said, remembering the times Wei Ying used to tease him about being stiff as a board when he rested. He’d been told even his breathing was as slow and quiet as death. Perhaps Wei Ying hadn’t been able to tell. He laid back down and closed his eyes in demonstration.
Wei Ying cried out in protest, short and quickly cut off.
“If you need to check,” Lan Wangji said, tapping his fingers against his chest, “you can place your ear there.”
“Ah?”
“Go on.”
Wei Ying crawled closer and crouched by his side, dipping his head to press his ear where Lan Wangji had indicated.
“Do you hear?”
Clutching at Lan Wangji’s robes, he stayed there, ear pressed to Lan Wangji’s chest. It couldn’t have been comfortable, folding himself up like this, but he didn’t seem interested in moving either. Eventually he pushed himself up again and stared at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji sat up again.
“Wei Ying,” he asked. “Have you seen people not moving before?”
“Nice yeye went to sleep and stopped moving,” Wei Ying said.
“Nice yeye?”
Wei Ying blew out an exasperated breath, affronted in the way only a child could be. “He paid attention to me and shared food.” He fiddled with his hands. “He didn’t laugh at me or throw things or yell.”
Despite having heard each of Wei Ying’s words, delivered too earnestly to feel like exaggeration or a conflation of the truth with nightmare, Lan Wangji couldn’t actually fathom what he was hearing.
Swallowing bile, feeling an obligation to fully understand Wei Ying, he parsed the meaning beneath Wei Ying’s words. Revulsion curled, vicious and slick, around his throat and threatened to choke him.
Wei Ying never spoke of his childhood to anyone, claiming he didn’t remember much of it. Now, Lan Wangji hoped that was true.
It wasn’t even that he didn’t know it would have been difficult for an orphan trying to survive among the callousness of those who chose not to help and the crushing despair of those who couldn’t, too impoverished themselves to be capable of offering assistance. But knowing and seeing, they were two entirely different things.
“He saved me from a dog,” Wei Ying continued. “I liked him.” Tears welled in his eyes again, tears Lan Wangji uselessly brushed away with his thumb. In truth, he wanted to cry, too. Why was it that Lan Wangji was so incapable of protecting Wei Ying? How could he have teased Wei Ying about his memory when there was so much in his life that ought to have been forgotten? “I don’t want pretty shushu to be like nice yeye.”
He saw himself in Wei Ying, then, the child he’d been, too, only wanting his mother and not understanding what had happened and why she wasn’t there anymore. Lan Wangji had been a little older than Wei Ying then and still hadn’t understood. He could not fathom how much more overwhelming it might have been to Wei Ying, losing his parents at an even younger age, no other family there to take him in.
“I won’t,” Lan Wangji said, vicious enough that Wei Ying jerked back. “Wei Ying, I won’t. I promise. You won’t lose me.” Lan Wangji touched his cheek again, skin innocently soft and warm beneath his fingertips. “Do you understand?”
Though a dubious frown crowded his small, bowlike mouth into a pout, he nodded.
“Tell me.”
“I won’t lose pretty shushu,” he said, dutiful and toneless.
“Nothing will happen here. Not to me or you.” He stroked Wei Ying’s cheek one last time, erasing the tear tracks, and tugged once at Wei Ying’s ear in the hopes of earning a smile. He did not. “You must be hungry.” He considered the meal Jingyi had left behind last night and whether any of it might be salvageable. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Wei Ying behind to retrieve breakfast.
Wei Ying nodded, shy.
After showing Wei Ying where to relieve himself and perform morning ablutions, he left him to a small degree of privacy as he surveyed the items on the table.
As expected, the meal from last night wasn’t terribly appetizing. He would have to—
“Wow.” Wei Ying rushed over to the table to stare at the congealing spread and fell to his knees next to the table. By the time Lan Wangji’s brain caught up with what he was witnessing, Wei Ying had already shoved one of the buns into his mouth and was about to stick his fingers into the bowl of thinly sliced vegetables.
Lowering himself to his knees, he snatched Wei Ying’s hand away. “Wait,” he said, wishing Wei Ying would spit out the bun he was eating and complain about the flavor. “Wei Ying, this isn’t safe to consume.”
That was, strictly speaking, not the whole truth, but he wanted Wei Ying to stop. Rather, he wanted Wei Ying to expect better.
Brow furrowing, Wei Ying swallowed. Confused, he studied the tray. “But it tastes good.”
Frustrated tears prickled in the corners of Lan Wangji’s eyes. Jingyi had brought the normal Lan Sect fare, items Wei Ying would have turned his nose up at, too used to Lan Wangji’s intervention now to suffer the indignity of inferior flavors. At no point in time should Wei Ying think it tasted good. It did not. It was serviceable, bland and bitter in turn, as it was meant to be. Lan Wangji preferred it, many fond memories associated with the taste. For Lan Wangji, familiarity had long bred appreciation, but Wei Ying absolutely needn’t ever feel the same.
As he sat back onto his bottom, away from the table, he curled his arms around his knees, a half-eaten bun still clutched in his tiny fingers. His lower lip wobbled precariously. “Wei Ying—”
A gentle knock at the door startled them both. In his currently flustered, unhappy state, Lan Wangji snapped, “Who has come?”
The door slid open just enough for his brother to poke his head inside. “Me, if you’ll allow me entrance,” he said, kindly. “I hear there’s been a situation.” His gaze immediately fell upon Wei Ying. Though his expression often cooled in Wei Ying’s presence, he was always cordial enough. Today, however, it softened immediately. Concern turned his gaze warm and affectionate, almost as though they were youths again, Xichen gently cajoling Lan Wangji into giving Wei Ying the time of day. “A-Ying. How are you?” He looked again at Lan Wangji and held up a tray filled with every possible foodstuff Wei Ying or Lan Wangji could want loaded onto it. “I’ve brought breakfast.”
Wei Ying could only stare, attention falling on Lan Wangji, then Xichen, and then back again. “Pretty shushu.” The bun fell from his hand. Instinctively, he swiped it back up and clutched it close. His brows furrowed as he looked at Xichen for a second time, examination more thorough. “Pretty… shushu?”
“This is my older brother.” He did not give voice to the thought that he didn’t like his brother being called pretty shushu.
Wei Ying frowned, suspicious. “You’re pretty er shu?”
Lan Xichen’s eyes widened and a smile bloomed on his mouth. Lan Wangji would never, ever know another day of peace in his life. “Why don’t you call me Lan shushu instead? Wangji can be pretty shushu.”
His brother would pay for this, Lan Wangji thought. “Wei Ying, do you need help getting dressed? Perhaps we should prepare for the day. It’s already grown late,” he said, shooting a venomous look at Xichen. He’d been so relieved to see his brother just moments ago. It was funny how quickly things changed.
Wei Ying agreed with a nod, shoulders slumping as he rose to his feet. He deposited the half-eaten bun on the tray, giving it a long, lingering glance.
“I’ll leave this here,” his brother said agreeably as Lan Wangji hustled Wei Ying behind the privacy screen, “and take the leftovers from yesterday. I’ve already spoken with shufu. Your duties are being delegated as we speak. Until this is handled, you’re free to remain with Wei Wuxian.”
“Thank you, xiongzhang.”
Wei Ying fussed with his sleep robes, losing himself in a tangle of fabric. “Help.”
Lan Wangji made quick work of the various ties Wei Ying had had trouble with and exchanged them with the other set of robes Jingyi had brought. The clothing was still a little big for him. The trousers and robes skimmed the floor, leaving only his toes exposed, but he could walk more freely today than yesterday. Except for the wildness of his hair and the lack of forehead ribbon, he could pass for a Lan Sect disciple.
His brother was gone when they emerged from behind the privacy screen.
“Breakfast?” Wei Ying asked, toddling toward the food, still getting used to the outfit. He probably hadn’t worn anything quite this cumbersome after his parents died and maybe not even before that.
“Eat as much as you wish,” Lan Wangji said, “but not too quickly.”
Lan Wangji expected something of his husband in the way Wei Ying took the direction—i.e. that he would not and that he would be mischievous about it—but he sat appropriately and quietly at the table, struggling a bit to stretch his arms far enough to reach. He took one large bite of a steamed bun and then turned and looked at Lan Wangji, swallowing quickly as he ducked his head.
His next bite was much smaller.
Lan Wangji sat at the table alongside Wei Ying, watching carefully as he ate and ate and ate, more even than he usually did as an adult. He remained quiet and thoughtful throughout the meal, occasionally peering up at Lan Wangji. By the time they were both finished, it was probably the most rule-abiding meal that had taken place in the jingshi since Wei Ying arrived.
Lan Wangji could not say he enjoyed it.
Without being asked, Wei Ying wandered back behind the privacy screen to clean his hands and face. He turned and offered Lan Wangji a wide, heartbreaking smile when he was done. “Thank you, pretty shushu.”
As Lan Wangji cleared up what remained of their meal, he found himself at a loss. He needed to study Wei Ying’s notes and he needed to devote his full attention to it. But keeping Wei Ying cooped up here all day couldn’t be healthy. He was already fidgeting and wandering around the room. His attention lingered on the shelves. Though he never actually touched anything he found there, he kept looking at it all, frowning.
Perhaps he could tire Wei Ying out and then bring him back to take a nap. While he slept, there would be time to look over them.
“Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying turned toward him. “Pretty shushu?”
“Would you like to meet the rabbits?”
His eyes widened impossibly, almost shining. “To eat?”
Though Lan Wangji knew better, knew that Wei Ying probably wouldn’t be able to kill one, yet alone eat it while Lan Wangji was there, he couldn’t stop from feeling viscerally horrified by the thought. And Wei Ying, who usually laughed at him when he said something like this, flinched back instead, taking a few steps and swinging his head around as though searching for an exit that wouldn’t take him past Lan Wangji.
“These rabbits are not for eating,” he said gently, careful in his approach. He did not want Wei Ying to run and possibly trip, hurt himself or somehow escape. Crouching down, he touched Wei Ying’s hair, still half a horror and tangled from sleep. “Some are.”
Though Wei Ying stared at him, somber and sad and suspicious, he nodded. Lowering his gaze, he said, “Sorry, shushu.”
“It’s alright.” Needing to touch Wei Ying, he curled his hand around Wei Ying’s bird-thin shoulder and squeezed lightly, consoling. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I made pretty shushu upset.”
Were children always this aware of what went on around them or was there something about Wei Ying in particular that made him so observant? He didn’t remember Sizhui being quite this insightful.“I’m not upset,” he promised as Wei Ying frowned dubiously. “Your question startled me. That’s all.”
“Because they’re not for eating.”
“That’s right. They’re…” He could not admit that they were pets even though that was the closest concept that Wei Ying might understand. “They are under our care and protection. We enjoy their company and keep them from being harmed by predators.”
“No eating pretty shushu’s rabbits.” He lifted his hand, three fingers pressed together. Lan Wangji’s heart squeezed in recognition of the gesture. No matter how different Wei Ying seemed, he was still Wei Ying. “Promise.”
“Shall we go now?”
Wei Ying nodded.
“Do your legs hurt today?”
Wei Ying tilted his head, a serious expression on his face. He stamped his feet a few times and looked up at Lan Wangji. “They don’t hurt.”
Before he allowed Wei Ying outside, he combed his hair and pulled it into a bun, unable to fully master the wispy hairs around his temple and the back of his neck. The whole time, Wei Ying hissed under his breath, but didn’t cry out or tell Lan Wangji to stop. By the time he was presentable, his whole body was shaking. “Rabbits,” he said, more to himself than to Lan Zhan. “Rabbits are friendly, right?”
“They can be.”
“Will they bite?”
“As long as we’re nice to them,” Lan Zhan replied, “they won’t bite.”
“Okay.” Wei Ying drew in a deep breath and held it, cheeks puffing out. “I’m nice. They won’t bite me. I’ll be nice.”
“I know you will.”
Though Wei Ying did his best to walk at Lan Wangji’s purposefully slowed pace, the walk still took far longer than Lan Wangji expected. Wei Ying insisted on walking the whole way, despite the difficulties he had with some of the terrain even with Lan Wangji holding his hand, as stubborn as he’d always been. When they finally arrived, he scrunched his face up in discomfort and threw himself into the grass rather dramatically. It was not funny, not really, but it was so cute that Lan Wangji was forced to stifle a laugh behind his hand.
It reminded him of his Wei Ying, this behavior.
“I don’t see rabbits,” Wei Ying said, rolling over and sitting up. The meadow was on the large side and the grass was tall in some places. Lan Wangji saw many of them, but they’d all hopped away when Wei Ying flopped into the dirt.
He bent and gathered some of the clovers and greens he knew the rabbits especially favored, bringing them to Wei Ying’s chosen resting place. If he’d planned this outing better, he might have taken some vegetables from the kitchens, the kind of fare the rabbits rarely enjoyed out here. Should they have the opportunity to come back before Wei Ying was better—Lan Wangji hated thinking Wei Ying would be stuck this way for a while, but he needed to prepare himself for the possibility—Lan Wangji would make certain their favorite treats would be included.
Lan Wangji sat next to Wei Ying and placed the majority of the bounty into Wei Ying’s lap. “We have to be very quiet. They will come to us.”
Wei Ying’s mouth pinched shut as he nodded once, decisive and determined. Lan Wangji didn’t know how long it would last, this silence. Instead of being proud or impressed by Wei Ying’s ability to follow instructions, he found himself sad. Wei Ying’s way of being silent made him seem so small, smaller even than his already small frame allowed. He was too good at it, Lan Wangji decided.
If Lan Wangji allowed himself to think about what a child version of Wei Ying would be like, his first thought was: exuberant. This easily terrified, easily cowed waif would never have crossed his mind, as different from the Wei Ying Lan Wangji cherished, outsized, grandiose personality and all.
Were this his Wei Ying, he would already have decried the rabbits’ betrayal of him, saying that they played favorites and that they were too stingy with their affections. Lan Zhan, they definitely would already be swarming if I wasn’t here.
The grass finally rustled. Wei Ying’s attention was elsewhere; he didn’t notice. “Look over there,” Lan Wangji said, pointing at a small white tuft of fur hopping toward them, “but remember they’re easily scared.”
Like you, he tried not to think.
Wei Ying couldn’t control his gasp, loud and exuberant. His hands clapped over his mouth as soon as it fell from his lips. Wide eyed, he looked at Lan Wangji, perhaps for confirmation he hadn’t done anything irredeemably awful.
“Quiet,” he answered, gentle. “They’ll come. Remain still.”
After a handful of seconds, the rabbit hopped forward, sniffing the air.
“Rabbit,” Wei Ying said, awed, voice low enough that the rabbit didn’t seem to notice as it approached.
“Hold out one of the clovers,” Lan Wangji said.
Wei Ying carefully, somberly chose one from the pile on his lap. It was not long before the rabbit was almost close enough to touch. Not much later than that, the rabbit was nosing at Wei Ying’s leg, front paws on his thigh.
“Shushu,” Wei Ying said. “Can I pet it?”
“If you are very gentle,” Lan Wangji said. “This one likes to be stroked between the ears and down his back.” He demonstrated using one finger to press lightly between its ears and over its spine. Wei Ying repeated the gesture, a little less careful and coordinated, but nothing the rabbit seemed unhappy with.
“It’s soft,” Wei Ying whispered, as though surprised.
“Mn.”
Finally, the rabbit hopped into Wei Ying’s lap, flopping over onto the pile of clovers there. Wei Ying’s hands hovered over its body. His expression, fearful, froze in place before a smile spread across his mouth, showcasing a sudden paroxysm of delight. How he managed to control the energy threatening to burst from within him, Lan Wangji couldn’t say, only that he was happy for Wei Ying and pleased to have found something that brought childlike wonder to his eyes.
More and more of the rabbits approached, curious and hungry, and most of them focused their attention on Wei Ying, who held out bits for each of them. His head turned his way and that, like he wasn’t sure where to look or for how long. The first remained flopped on his lap, staring lazily at the others.
They remained like this for an hour, Wei Ying never once getting bored as he asked how each liked to be petted and then did his best to replicate it.
Slowly, the rabbits had their fill of attention and hopped away one by one. As each one left, his mood lowered, gaze following sadly, but it wasn’t until the one on his lap roused itself that he cried out, gathering it to his chest when it rose. “Don’t go,” he cried. It kicked its feet against Wei Ying’s chest as he squeezed it too tightly. It squirmed, vicious and scared, out of Wei Ying’s grasp and darted off. The violence of its disappearance startled Wei Ying into silence.
“Wei Ying.”
But Wei Ying didn’t hear him or wasn’t listening. Pulling his legs up, he wrapped his arms around them, sniffling into his knees. When Lan Wangji touched his shoulder, he jerked and curled himself into a smaller shape.
“Wei Ying,” he said, “you’ll see the rabbits again.”
Wei Ying made a sound of disagreement, shaking his head. “No.”
“You will. I promise.” Uncertain, he rose and held out his hand. “We should go back.”
But Wei Ying didn’t move, stubbornly remaining where he was.
“Wei Ying, please.”
“No.”
Grasping Wei Ying under the armpits, Lan Wangji lifted him. Wei Ying didn’t fight it, though Lan Wangji half expected him to. Rather, he went boneless against Lan Wangji’s shoulder, the fight going out of him as he tucked his face against Lan Wangji’s throat. Though warm, wet tears tickled his neck, Wei Ying didn’t scream or sob or shout.
His only rebellion against Lan Wangji’s handling of him was in how little interest he showed in being held. He neither grasped onto Lan Wangji’s robes, nor attempted to wrap his legs around Lan Wangji’s waist. The whole walk back, Lan Wangji worried Wei Ying would slither right out of his grasp, disappearing like so much mist burned off by the sun.
Throughout the rest of the morning, Wei Ying remained sluggish and disinterested in anything Lan Wangji offered. All he chose to do was sit on the edge of the bed and watch Lan Wangji with betrayal in his shining eyes. It made Lan Wangji feel awful, like he’d done something wrong, and though Wei Ying was behaving in such a way that Lan Wangji could probably work from Wei Ying’s notes, he still couldn’t concentrate.
“Would you like to play?”
Wei Ying shook his head.
“Are you hungry?”
Another shake.
“Do you want to rest?”
No.
Lan Wangji sighed, abandoning thoughts of working for now. Sitting next to Wei Ying, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling free the ribbon holding it back. Gently, he smoothed the tangles out as Wei Ying sat there. “What do you need, Wei Ying?” he asked, more of himself than Wei Ying.
Wei Ying just looked up at him. That sort of question was too big for a child to answer. Even Lan Wangji didn’t know how to answer it for himself a lot of the time.
“Do you understand that something’s wrong?” he asked.
Though Wei Ying started to shake his head, he nodded instead. “I don’t remember coming here,” he said plainly. “I was sitting on warm dirt. There were lots of people, but they didn’t see me.” He spoke with a child’s blunt dignity. “And then I was here. I thought it was a dream, but when I tried to go back, I couldn’t do it.”
Lan Wangji swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. He must have made a sound, because Wei Ying patted his knee.
“I like it here,” Wei Ying said. “It’s cold, but pretty shushu is nice. The bunnies are nice. I’m sorry I was a baby.”
He couldn’t bear to acknowledge the last thing Wei Ying said right now, but he could address the first. “You’re cold?”
Wei Ying ducked his head, but finally nodded. Yet another thing Lan Wangji had gotten wrong since this had happened. Of course Wei Ying would be more used to the climate in the interior. It wasn’t like living in a mountain retreat where even the summers could carry brisk, cool winds.
“I will get you thicker robes.” In the meantime, he stood and crossed the room, grabbing one of the spare blankets from the storage space they kept. Though it wasn’t a child-sized blanket, he wrapped it around Wei Ying’s body until he was cocooned in it, only his face and little hands exposed as they clutched the fabric. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest?”
This time, a yawn exposed the truth. Even though he fought it, within moments, he was pliable, listing over, letting himself be lowered into a more comfortable sleeping position. With his eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, he seemed like any normal child, carefree and secure in the knowledge that they were safe and beloved, that they could let things out of their sight without fear they’d never see it again.
Wei Ying wasn’t truly one of those well-loved children. He didn’t know he could trust Lan Wangji to protect him.
Because Lan Wangji didn’t know how long Wei Ying would remain asleep, he had to work quickly and quietly.
Once he’d read through Wei Ying’s notes, he thought he had a slightly better idea of what Wei Ying had been thinking, though he didn’t quite know how his original line of inquiry—if empathy could be done, why couldn’t something similar be done to one’s self—resulted in a physical transformation.
It seemed more like a curse than anything else. Perhaps this was backlash at work?
Lan Wangji stared down at the pages. If it was a curse, there would be an implicit logic at work that required recompense. Until the requirements were met, Wei Ying might not come back. But what requirement would need to be met? The notes didn’t say because Wei Ying didn’t think he was working with a curse. Presumably, it would involve some memory or other since that was what had spurred this on, but why would it require him being this age rather than, say, the age he’d been during the incident that instigated this or any other age in point of fact?
A headache churned behind his eyes, a thick roil of clouds presaging a storm.
There was little else that could be gleaned from Wei Ying’s notes that he could see. He would need to construct his own solution to the problem, never the easiest thing for him. His mind just didn’t work that way.
If only he could consult Wei Ying. Surely they could have worked it out together. Perhaps there was one way he might.
A knock on the door startled Lan Wangji from his reverie, thoughts melting away at the precise, frantic rap of knuckles against wood. “Hanguang jun.” It was Jingyi’s voice, high-pitched with excitement. “Hanguang jun.”
He rose and quickly crossed the room, sliding the door aside. Around him, the jingshi was in disarray.
Jingyi and Sizhui were standing there, abashed. In Sizhui’s hands was a tray of food. In Jingyi’s, toys and clean robes. Jingyi couldn’t stop staring at the room. “Hanguang jun, is everything alright around here?”
Lan Wangji glanced back at Wei Ying, who hadn’t yet woken up, and then at Jingyi and Sizhui. He’d already fixed his plan in place. He truly only needed to retrieve a few things. “Are you able to remain? I won’t be long.”
Sizhui nodded. “Of course.” Unlike Jingyi, he didn’t sound remotely frantic. He appeared as calm as Lan Wangji wished he could be. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come see him sooner. I’m still working on my night hunt report.”
“No matter.” Distracted, Lan Wangji let them in, told them quickly where everything was in case Wei Ying needed anything. “I won’t be gone long,” he promised.
He returned, far later than expected, armed with the incense burner—he couldn’t actually fathom how it had ended up in the library, but there he’d found it, abandoned under the desk Wei Ying had been using when he was found, strange, impossible, when it should have been carefully packed away in the sect’s Chamber of Ancients—and the hope that nothing had gone wrong in the meantime.
His hopes were dashed the moment he stepped into the jingshi. “What happened?”
Jingyi jumped at the noise and even Sizhui flinched.
“Hanguang jun,” they both said, almost in unison. Guilt crossed their features as they looked at one another and then stared at the floor.
“I was going to come find you,” Sizhui said. “Only… we weren’t sure…”
“He woke up a little while ago,” Jingyi blurted. “And then he looked around and asked for pretty… pretty shushu and…”
“All Jingyi said was that you’d had to go, but we would take care of him. He didn’t—”
Lan Wangji crouched in front of Wei Ying, all but unresponsive to his approach. Nothing appeared physically wrong with him, but he was clutching a small doll made of a cloth and one of Wei Ying’s ribbons wrapped around it to shape a head and arms and legs. With the red shade of the ribbon, it looked a little morbid. Lan Wangji wanted to take it from him. “Wei Ying?”
He didn’t reply, his eyes tightly closed as his breath rattled within him, body shaking with each inhalation.
“Did you give him the doll?”
Both Jingyi and Sizhui shook their heads. “He made it.”
Lan Wangji sighed. His heart hurt just to look at Wei Ying like this. When he touched Wei Ying’s shoulder, he didn’t react. “Did you try to play with him at all?”
“Yes, Hanguang jun,” Sizhui said. “He wouldn’t let us. We didn’t want to upset him so we stopped trying. We’re sorry for…”
But what could they be sorry for? They hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Lan Wangji who’d done wrong here by not thinking through how Wei Ying might feel in his absence. “Thank you for your assistance. I shouldn’t have troubled you so.”
They gave their acknowledgment and disappeared out of the room, taking the trays left from earlier.
Once they were gone, Lan Wangji stroked Wei Ying’s hair.
“Wei Ying, look at me, please.”
Wei Ying shook his head, which Lan Wangji supposed was better than nothing.
“I’m sorry.” He covered Wei Ying’s hands with his own. They were so small beneath his palm, fragile and thin, too thin. The nails, soft, had been chewed at some point today. He didn’t remember them being so ragged. “I should have told you I was going.”
“No one tells me,” Wei Ying said in a small voice.
Lan Wangji’s heart turned itself in his chest.
“You’re not pretty shushu,” Wei Ying continued when Lan Wangji couldn’t speak.
“I am,” he said, gentle, determined to pry Wei Ying’s fingers free of the doll. It didn’t work.
“Pretty shushu won’t come back,” Wei Ying insisted. “Nobody comes back.”
The thing Lan Wangji sometimes forgot—apparently at his own peril—was that Wei Ying had experienced so much loss, too, and in the exact same ways that Lan Wangji experienced it. It was too easy to remember Wei Ying’s death instead and see that as his greatest tragedy because that was Lan Wangji’s greatest tragedy.
He always thought, when he thought about it, of Wei Ying as having left him, the same way his mother had left him.
But Wei Ying’s parents died, too. His entire life was marked with the loss of loved ones. Until now, Lan Wangji had always been the one who’d stayed. Like this, Wei Ying couldn’t know that. Lan Wangji certainly hadn’t proved it to him.
“Wei Ying, please,” he said, knowing it wasn’t fair to plead with a child. He didn’t even know what exactly he was pleading for. Understanding? Forgiveness? A chance to explain? He touched Wei Ying again and this time, Wei Ying swayed into it, letting himself be pulled into Lan Wangji’s lap
He still didn’t cry and though he still held the doll, he wrapped one hand around Lan Wangji’s waist.
“I went in search of an object that’s meant to help you,” Lan Wangji said. “That was why I left. You were sleeping so soundly. I didn’t want to disturb your rest. I thought I would return before you woke up.”
Wei Ying trembled against his chest, but showed no sign of acknowledgment or understanding.
“I’ll always do my best to come back to you,” he said, hoping at least Wei Ying would understand that. “And I won’t leave again before this is resolved.” Whatever Wei Ying had done could be undone and Lan Wangji was already formulating a plan. “Do you understand?”
Wei Ying made a small sound of complaint and rubbed his face against Lan Wangji’s chest.
“Wei Ying.”
“Pretty shushu won’t go,” he said stubbornly. It wasn’t entirely believable, the way he said it, but if it got through to Wei Ying even a little bit, that was what mattered.
After a few minutes, Wei Ying began squirming around, wriggling until he was out of Lan Wangji’s lap and on the floor, quietly considering the doll in his hands. After a few minutes, he began dancing it around on the floor as he hummed, making it perform sword forms Lan Wangji didn’t recognize. It was charming to watch. The more he played, the more his expression lifted.
He was so mesmerized that he didn’t notice Wei Ying waving the doll in his face until he spoke.
“Here,” he said, imperious, waving it around even more violently when Lan Wangji didn’t take it.
“It belongs to you.”
“No.”
The first thing he ought to have done was gather real toys for Wei Ying.
Finally he took it, much to Wei Ying’s evident pleasure if his smile was anything to go by. There was only one problem. It was so small and light. The ribbon, though tightly wound and tied around the cloth, might be undone at any moment. He couldn’t trust himself with this. “What should I do with it?”
“He’s a cultivator like pretty shushu.” Wei Ying stared blankly at him. He reached out and held the doll upright, pinching its arms to make it move. “Now you.”
Lan Wangji wasn’t imaginative in the same way Wei Ying was and hadn’t been even as a child. He didn’t remember playing with anything, only studying. Practicing with wooden swords was the closest he probably ever got to playing. He certainly didn’t have dolls. He still feared causing it to fall apart.
He copied Wei Ying’s actions, taking hold of the toy’s floppy arms and setting it on the floor. He wasn’t quite as good as Wei Ying at making it move with his hands, but he got a better idea, one that would probably break a rule or two for being frivolous.
Flicking his fingers, he lifted the doll into the air using his spiritual energy to guide it, little wisps of power that swirled around the doll and spun it. He worked it through one of the easier sword forms he knew and discovered that it was actually a little challenging to manipulate the doll and keep the flow of his spiritual energy as easy and as fluid as necessary to make it look real.
Wei Ying’s eyes widened with delight, mouth falling open as the doll fought a nonexistent enemy. “It’s shushu.”
The doll fell, arms splayed, a little sad and limp, as Lan Wangji’s concentration faltered. Wei Ying cried out and crawled over, scooping it up.
“Wei Ying, why did you make the doll?”
“I didn’t want to forget you.” His hands clenched into fists around it. “I made some for baba and mama, too, but I don’t know where they went.”
Pain squeezed Lan Wangji’s heart until the pressure made him fear it would burst from the strain.
Wei Ying stared down at the doll in his hands, lost. “I don’t want to forget them.”
Though Lan Wangji tried to continue working, he failed again and again until finally he couldn’t stop himself from gathering Wei Ying into a hug. When Wei Ying asked him if he wanted to play some more, there was only one answer he could give.
“Yes.”
Wei Ying slipped more easily into rest tonight as he curled against Lan Wangji, ear pressed to his chest. It took a while, but his breathing evened out into little puffs that Lan Wangji felt against his neck. Lan Wangji hoped that meant Wei Ying felt comfortable and unafraid, that he would finally take respite through the night.
It wasn’t to be. Though Lan Wangji rarely woke during the night, he found himself suddenly roused from sleep, mind clouded with worry. When Lan Wangji blinked the sleep from his eyes, Wei Ying was staring down at him, his arms wrapped around the doll.
“Wei Ying, why are you awake?” His voice was rough, unfamiliar to him.
“I didn’t want shushu to go.” The soft, translucent skin under his eyes was deeply purpled and his hair was a mess. Lan Wangji could only guess at how long he’d been awake. “I had to watch.”
“I will not go,” Lan Wangji answered, frustrated again by his lack of care and consideration. “Please go back to sleep.”
Wei Ying’s voice shook with the certainty of his belief. “Shushu will go.”
“You need rest. I promise you I will go nowhere else without you.”
Wei Ying’s lower lip protruded. Lan Wangji could almost see the disagreement threatening to form and did not know how to head it off. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The adult version of him also didn’t like sleep, but he didn’t fight it the way Wei Ying was fighting it now.
Would it be so terrible to let Wei Ying remain awake? Surely he would tire himself and sleep eventually. It was close enough to morning to rise. “Come, then. Let’s have breakfast.”
Wei Ying was stickier today than he had been yesterday or the day before. If Lan Wangji dared shift even minutely, Wei Ying’s eyes followed somberly. If he moved, Wei Ying moved.
At no point did he seem to tire, no matter that he usually liked to doze after eating.
After clearing away breakfast—he would have to take the plates and trays back to the kitchens later or throw himself on the mercy of the juniors or his brother—he gathered Wei Ying’s notes and sat at his desk. Wei Ying, of course, plastered himself to Lan Wangji’s side.
Before he used the incense burner to solve this, he wanted to ensure nothing in Wei Ying’s notes suggested it would be a bad idea.
In truth, he feared what he might find within Wei Ying’s dreams. The last time he’d gone into one, Wei Ying had wanted a simple, lovely life. He didn’t want this version of Wei Ying to experience such a thing only to be torn from it if Lan Wangji’s instincts were incorrect. Though he’d already scoured Wei Ying’s notes thoroughly, he was afraid he might have missed something important.
It was fine when he was just reading, to have Wei Ying holding tight to his arm, but it became terribly inconvenient once he needed to write his own notes, commit to memory the questions he wanted to ask Wei Ying when he ventured inside. Even then, he refused to move, settling himself against Lan Wangji’s side while Lan Wangji held his arm at an awkward angle to accommodate him.
After a time, Wei Ying finally lost his struggle against his need for rest, body listing. Scooping Wei Ying into his arms, he earned a belligerent little whine for his troubles, only to hear him hum, content, when he deposited Wei Ying in his lap. It didn’t seem to matter that Lan Wangji was occasionally forced to shift around and shuffle pages; Wei Ying continued to sleep.
Eventually, the doll Wei Ying had been clinging to fell out of his hand and wound up on the floor. Lan Wangji was not sad to see him let go of it.
As Lan Wangji tidied Wei Ying’s notes, Wei Ying yawned and clasped his arms around as much of Lan Wangji’s torso as he could reach. “Shushu, can we see the rabbits?”
“Let me finish cleaning this up and then we can go.”
Wei Ying waited patiently, watchful, as Lan Wangji put away Wei Ying’s notes and even graciously allowed Lan Wangji to layer his daily robes over the sleep robes he was still wearing. When they arrived at the meadow, Wei Ying was more careful and even gathered some of the clovers they favored for himself.
Plopping himself down in the grass, he sighed and pulled up clumps of it that he tossed as he waited for the rabbits to show up.
“Wei Ying?”
“I wish I could see,” he said.
Lan Wangji blinked. He did not know what to say. He asked, finally, “See what?”
But Wei Ying didn’t answer.
The request sat with him, though, as Wei Ying fed the rabbits.
“Wei Ying, what do you want to see?”
Wei Ying, he thought despairingly, wasn’t going to answer, but in retrospect, the answer should have been obvious.
“Mama and baba. I don’t remember them anymore.”
All thought of only using the incense burner to show him a grown Wei Ying, one who might be capable of solving this, flew out the window the second Wei Ying gave utterance to those words. It would be selfish to deny Wei Ying this chance.
Lan Wangji sat on the bed and invited Wei Ying to join him as he fussed with the incense burner, ensuring it was close enough to the bed.
“I’m not tired,” Wei Ying said, stubborn.
“You don’t have to sleep,” Lan Wangji said, not precisely a lie.
Though Wei Ying was suspicious and reluctant, he came anyway, situating himself against Lan Wangji’s side. Lan Wangji missed the weight of him, fully grown and sprawling across Lan Wangji’s body from shoulder to ankle. This small, he fit within the curve of Lan Wangji’s arm. “I won’t sleep,” he warned Lan Wangji.
“You needn’t,” Lan Wangji assured him. “Just think about your father and mother.”
The scent of the smoke was cloying, already starting to tickle at Lan Wangji’s nose and throat. Wei Ying sneezed and rubbed his face against his sleeve. Though Lan Wangji might have corrected the behavior otherwise, sleep pulled at him already.
It was too late to do anything about it.
When he awoke, he was standing on the side of a wide dirt path. Wei Ying was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, arms tight about his neck. Though he took shuddering breaths against Lan Wangji’s throat, he stayed quiet. This wasn’t anywhere that looked familiar to Lan Wangji.
The road seemed to stretch forever, lined with dusty shrubbery and brown grasses. The air shimmered with heat and the sun beamed down brightly from overhead. If this wasn’t Lan Wangji’s dream, it must have been Wei Ying’s.
“Wei Ying,” he said, nudging him lightly. “Where are we?”
“I dunno,” Wei Ying replied, petulant, too quiet. He refused to look, but when Lan Wangji pressed again for an answer, he lifted his head and peered over Lan Wangji’s shoulder. When that wasn’t enough, he twisted around. “I…”
“Is it familiar to you?”
“Dunno.” Still, he’d perked up with curiosity and pointed. “Let’s go that way.”
Lan Wangji began walking and Wei Ying, at no point, asked to be let down.
“This is a dream,” Wei Ying said, craning his neck. “Why is it hot?” He screwed his eyes closed and his mouth pursed in a cute little frown. Nothing happened, only causing his frown to deepen. “It should change.” He grew panicky, squirming against Lan Wangji’s hold. “I can’t change it.”
“You can change your dreams?”
Wei Ying’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t like dreams, so I change them. I’m not dumb.”
Lan Wangji choked on a laugh and squeezed Wei Ying in a hug. “I didn’t think you were.”
Wei Ying made a noise of satisfaction and let himself continue to be carried. They didn’t pass anyone and the road remained the same no matter how far they walked. The trees, too, remained the same, what trees there were. The sky was just as hot and clear as when they’d started. It felt like they were walking in circles except the road didn’t even curve.
Lan Wangji ought to have made an effort to move into his own dreamscape, but he was as curious about this world as Wei Ying was. There had to be a reason they came here.
After a time, Wei Ying yawned, struggling to remain awake as he nuzzled under Lan Wangji’s chin. His skin was sticky and warm with sweat. His robes probably clung to his body in much the same way that Lan Wangji’s did.
“Wei Ying, you must stay awake,” he said, jostling Wei Ying’s body.
“Mama and baba aren’t here,” he said sleepily, rubbing his cheek against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “They won’t come.”
“Do you remember being here with them?”
“They won’t come.”
“Wei Ying,” he pressed. “Is that why we’re here?”
“I don’t know.” He yawned again. “Doesn’t matter.”
Wei Ying’s lack of belief shouldn’t have surprised him. “They will, but you have to look for them.”
“They won’t come back. Pretty shushu is…”
“Is what?” Lan Wangji asked. “What am I?”
“No.” He spoke in a whine and shook his head. “I won’t look. They won’t come. I don’t like this dream. I want to go back.” Though lethargic, he struggled and wriggled out of Lan Wangji’s grasp. He raced off on chubby legs.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji called out to him. It wasn’t in his nature to run, but he didn’t want to lose Wei Ying, not even here. As was the nature of dreams, strange things happened. For one thing, Wei Ying was able to outrun him. “Wei—”
Ahead, there was a small blur—not Wei Ying—and a smaller, closer one that probably was. He took a tumble into the dirt, but didn’t cry out. Sprinting, Lan Wangji caught up. The small blur became a donkey, became a man guiding a woman who was holding a child. Though they were still too far away to see properly, they were laughing, none more than the child, who was giggling in sheer, unabashed delight.
“Wei Ying?”
Lan Wangji fell to his knees behind Wei Ying, pulled him back against his chest, arms wrapped around him to keep him from fleeing again. With his heart pounding away against his sternum, he couldn’t be sure whether he squeezed Wei Ying so tightly because he wanted to ground Wei Ying or because he felt the need to tether himself to Wei Ying.
“Mama,” he said, struggling against Lan Wangji’s hold. It would be too selfish to keep him here, but Lan Wangji didn’t want to let go.
He buried his face in the wild tangle of Wei Ying’s hair and breathed deeply.
This was a dream. It was safe. He could let go of Wei Ying for this. It would be selfish not to.
“Wei Ying, come back,” he whispered, releasing his hold.
Scrabbling forward, Wei Ying nearly fell, catching himself on his palms before rushing forward afresh, uncaring of the pain of skin scraped raw by the dirt. He ran and ran until he was as small as they were. Lan Wangji did not follow. This was private, something entirely for Wei Ying. He turned away to ensure that privacy.
Later, he could share it with Lan Wangji if he was successful in getting Wei Ying back.
Footsteps crunched over the pebbled dirt. Each stride was long and assured, not a stride that belonged to a child. A shadow fell across Lan Wangji’s shoulder and stretched far down the dirt road. The hair was a tangle even only in shadow.
“Pretty shushu,” Wei Ying said. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Lan Wangji released a pent-up breath and turned. Kneeling as he was, Wei Ying towered over him. “Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying smiled and held out his hand.
Lan Wangji woke to a sprawl of limbs and a heavy weight against his stomach and a Wei Ying who was hissing and swearing, rolling off of Lan Wangji and falling off the edge of the bed with a thud as he tore at the fabric constricting him. Relief and happiness flooded Lan Wangji’s body.
“Ah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying called, half caught in the remnants of the child-sized robes he’d spent the last few days wearing. Most of it had fallen away already, but a few stubborn bits remained to constrict his thighs and arms especially. These, he tore away. “Too cruel.” Though Wei Ying was laughing, Lan Wangji couldn’t find anything funny about it as he helped Wei Ying get out of the remnants of the robes. “Lan Zhan!”
It was only now that Lan Wangji truly realized that Wei Ying was stripped to nothing. Lan Wangji took him all in, the entirety of him, the broad expanse of his skin, flushing under the scrutiny, and his wide, wild eyes. He’d missed his Wei Ying so much, the muscled breadth of his shoulders, the torso that no longer showed his ribs with every inhalation, the strength and shameless beauty of him.
“Lan Zhan, listen. We’re still asleep.”
“What?”
“Lan Zhan, time to wake up.”
“Wha—”
Wei Ying flicked him in the middle of his forehead. “Wake up.”
A phantom tap jolted Lan Wangji from slumber. He rose, finding Wei Ying slumped over his desk, incense burner—the incense burner—knocked to the floor, ash spilling across the ground. “Wei Ying?” he called, fearful, scrambling to his feet as Wei Ying groaned.
Startling upright, he said, “Hold that thought,” and threw himself at one of the cubbies where Lan Wangji kept spare paper and brushes. Though Lan Wangji was eager to ask questions, the answer came soon enough.
Wei Ying was painting a woman and a man that Lan Wangji didn’t quite recognize, but as Wei Ying worked, familiar shapes formed on the page. Wei Ying even rendered a donkey and a child. “Your mother and father?”
Wei Ying nodded, not stopping even with the distraction Lan Wangji provided.
He worked quickly but with apparent accuracy if the pleasure on his face was anything to go by. His skills were second to none in this respect. With a flourish, he finished the drawing and closed his eyes, sighing in relief. “Ah, Lan Zhan. You’re so smart. Do you know how smart you are?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You figured it out,” Wei Ying said. “From within my stupid dream. What did my notes even say there?” He held up the real world equivalent, far fewer notes scribbled down than Lan Wangji recalled. “I remember I was trying to come up with a memory charm, but it wasn’t working. I got so annoyed that I told myself I’d dream my memories and then wake myself up. Just as I was going under, I thought about my parents, I think, and then I woke up a four year old and couldn’t remember what I was actually trying to do. We could’ve been stuck there and you never would’ve known. I never would have—”
“Was that intended?”
“No, are you kidding? I could absolutely live without being a four-year old gremlin where you and anyone could see it.” Wei Ying scrubbed his palm over his face. “Heavens, that was embarrassing in retrospect. Good thing it was a dream. I’d never live Jingyi down. Putting him in charge of me, Lan Zhan? That was too cruel to him. He’s a better boy than that. I scared him so badly even he stopped talking. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“That had to have been troubling to you,” Lan Wangji said. “I’m sorry for my part in…”
“Pfft. Lan Zhan, really. I was a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing. It doesn’t reflect on you or us. You were trying to help me and you were really kind.” He grinned and touched Lan Wangji’s chin. “Thank you, Lan Zhan. For putting up with that. I really… I was clingy back then.”
“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji took Wei Ying’s wrists between his hands. “You are allowed to be upset by what happened. It was upsetting. You were a frightened child. Nothing you did was out of line.”
“I think it’s what I deserve for trying to pull a stupid stunt like that. I honestly didn’t think the smoke could reach that far. I really did think I’d be in and out before you woke up.”
“You could have woken me. We could have done it together. If you still want—”
Wei Ying slapped his hand over Lan Wangji’s mouth. “Lan Zhan,” he said, leaning in. “Hold that thought.” Removing his hand, he replaced the touch with his mouth, kissing Lan Wangji deeply, palm cupping Lan Wangji’s chin delicately. “Ah, that’s better. What was I saying?”
Lan Wangji captured Wei Ying’s wrist before Wei Ying could pull away. “Tell me later,” he said, fiercely missing Wei Ying’s touch and taste and even the scent of his body. When he dragged Wei Ying over to the bed, Wei Ying wriggled happily and smiled, hooking his fingers in the collar of Lan Wangji’s inner robes.
“At least I know I won’t ever forget this.”
Needless to say, they ate breakfast later than normal that morning. Wei Ying chattered away about his plans for the day while Lan Wangji drank tea. It was comforting to listen to and even better when Wei Ying rested his weight against Lan Wangji’s side, so much more substantial than it had been in his dream. “Ah, Lan Zhan. Remember when you bought A-Yuan those grass butterflies? And the sword?” He elbowed Lan Wangji. “And the little pinwheel toy?”
Lan Wangji placed his teacup on the table. “Of course.”
“How come you didn’t give me any when I was his age? Lan Zhan is too unfeeling to his Wei Ying. Very stingy. I was such a cute kid. I think I deserve something from my greatest benefactor.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. “I shall have to rectify it as soon as possible. We should go to Caiyi tonight. I will buy you whatever toys you wish to have” He hesitated, considering his next question carefully. “You remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten everything, you know. I still haven’t repaid my debt to you for that meal.”
Wrapping a finger in Wei Ying’s hair, Lan Wangji tugged him close and kissed his temple. “There is no debt.” Inhaling, he nuzzled at Wei Ying’s hairline before speaking again. “You don’t usually bring up the past like this.”
Wei Ying hummed in agreement, a little shy. “I thought…”
Sometimes, it helped if Lan Wangji pushed. Sometimes, it didn’t. Lan Wangji had gotten quite good at telling the difference. This time, he waited. He was rewarded with Wei Ying’s honesty.
“I thought it might be good if I tried to remember things from back then. It’s not fair to rely only on you to keep track and it wasn’t even all bad. But it should be remembered. It was my life, you know? And you were a big part of it. Everyone was such a big part of it. They deser—”
It was not polite to interrupt, but Lan Wangji found he didn’t care when he knew where this was going. “Wei Ying, this isn’t something you should feel the need to force.”
“I know, I know, I know. Lan Zhan, I know, but I still think it wouldn’t be bad to try. The things I forgot weren’t even the worst of what happened, I don’t think. There’s no reason I shouldn’t.”
Lan Wangji could think of plenty of reasons, most of which boiled down to ensuring Wei Ying’s happiness. Getting bogged down in the past wouldn’t improve that hard-won joy. But when he looked at Wei Ying again, he saw his determination and feared what it meant. “What do you intend to do?”
He imagined every possible answer he thought Wei Ying was capable of giving and was caught off guard by the answer anyway.
Though Wei Ying’s gaze had been direct a moment ago, it slid away. “Can we talk about it sometimes?”
Surely he’d misheard. “Wei Ying?”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to tiptoe around discussing things from my first life and I don’t want to avoid it anymore either, so: I’d like to talk about it.”
He’d expected Wei Ying to say he wanted to use the incense burner again and dreaded the possibility, but in some ways, talking about it seemed like it would be even more difficult. Still, he remembered what led them to this moment, the way Wei Ying had asked what else he’d forgotten and Lan Wangji wouldn’t answer. “We can discuss anything you want to talk about.” He didn’t think he had to be afraid any longer of what they might or might not find in such a discussion.
The tension in Wei Ying’s body, tension he hadn’t truly realized Wei Ying was carrying, bled away as he plastered himself against Lan Wangji’s side again, scooping up his tea cup and holding it to his lips. “You don’t want it to get cold, Lan Zhan,” he scolded.
Lan Wangji drank the rest and took hold of Wei Ying’s hand again. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to go over now?”
Wei Ying’s eyelashes fluttered coquettishly as he looked up at Lan Wangji. “There is one thing.” Smiling mischievously, he dove in for a hug. “You carried me everywhere in my dream, Lan Zhan. Both of them.”
“I did,” he agreed.
“Shouldn’t you be embarrassed about indulging me so much? I was allowed to be so lazy. Now I’m going to be expected to walk everywhere. It’s truly unfortunate. You got me accustomed to a certain level of treatment, Lan Zhan. I think you should take responsibility.”
“How would you have me take responsibility?”
Wei Ying tapped his chin and turned his gaze to the ceiling, pretending he was deep in thought.
Rolling his eyes, Lan Wangji reached down and grabbed Wei Ying by the back of the thigh, twisting him until he was facing Lan Wangji before gracefully scooping him up and rising to his feet, Wei Ying pressed against him. How he’d missed Wei Ying, this Wei Ying, the utter shamelessness of him.
“Oof,” Wei Ying said, quickly scrambling to wrap his arms around the back of Lan Wangji’s neck. Wei Ying’s laugh, sparkling with delight, cascaded directly into his ear. As Lan Wangji walked him over to the bed, he played with Lan Wangji’s hair. “You’re a brute. A menace! Hauling me around the jingshi like this!”
Lan Wangji made a noise of slight disagreement. He was not a brute nor a menace and Wei Ying liked to be hauled around. He liked even more to be tossed onto the bed and pressed into it. Lan Wangji’s hair spilled across his shoulders; he carelessly flicked it aside. It seemed as though Wei Ying’s many plans for the day would be delayed a while longer. “If there’s anything you want to remember…”
Wei Ying’s gaze was soft and the tone of his voice, when he answered, was even softer. “For right now, let’s make some new memories, huh?”