Chapter Text
The frown on Nie Mingjue’s face as his remaining disciple was eliminated was brief, but clear from his point high in the stands. To his disciple’s credit, Yu Zhe had by no means made it an easy victory for Jin Zixuan. The pair were very evenly matched, using the full five rounds of combat to find a victor. Jin Zixuan wore a quite relieved expression as he returned to the sideline; now the only Jin representative remaining in the competition. Wuxian had observed the match with precision focus. Provided he won his match against Lan Fanghua, the ‘Peacock’ would be his opponent in the semi-final. With a quick good luck jab in the arm from Jiang Cheng, Wuxian skipped back into the arena and threw a tooth filled grin at his opponent.
“I hope you’re prepared to tell me what you did to that young man,” he smirked, as he took his place opposite in the ring. The young Lan disciple merely smiled. “You are going to have to earn that privilege, Wei Gongzi,” to which she took up position, ready to strike once the signal was given.
“I intend to, Lan Guniang.”
Lan Fanghua’s talent was not as graceful or refined as Lan Wangji’s, but she was still very much a powerhouse. Her conservation of energies and swift, efficient movements were emblematic of the Lan technique and quite the challenge to boot. Wuxian found himself grateful for his practice with Lan Wangji the day previous, as that preview was proving invaluable for this fight. Lan Fanghua had quickly taken the first point, but lost ground when Wuxian scored two successive points in the following rounds. By the end of the fourth round, they were sitting on a tie.
As soon as the signal to begin was given, both combatants moved cautiously to the center, not wanting to give any easy advantage to the other. As soon as he had reached within sword's reach, he swung for Lan Fanghua’s middle, to which she blocked, then spun her body in his direction, while bringing in her jian towards his throat. The breeze that followed her swing blew through his hair as he ducked and dodged at the last moment. In the split second he had to right himself, Lan Fanghua’s jian came sweeping for his torso, only to be met with a loud echoing clang as it clashed with Suibian. With victory and placement in at least the top four on the line, neither gave the other quarter as the round went on block for blow. The match had been going long when Wuxian saw Lan Fanghua’s jian swinging wide, his shoulder seeming to be the target. Scrambling, and taking a leaf from the Lan handbook, used his energy to sidestep just enough to get out of her blade’s path, and connect Suibian with her stomach.
Victory.
Lan Fanghua’s smile was quite bright as she bowed in congratulations at the match’s conclusion. Wuxian quickly pulled her in for an exchange of hands before she headed off to find a seat for the rest of the contest.
“Lan Guniang, you made a promise,” he grinned, to which a red flush appeared on her cheeks and her smile went slightly coy. She acquiesced with a head nod and explained, “When the fight ended, I gave Yu Pengxi permission to court me.” His eyes went incredulous, flabbergasted at the explanation and stammering.
“You d-did what?”
“What I just said,” she explained. Another smile and a bow for courtesy, then she made her way up into the seats, where she quickly joined the Nie disciple she had bested earlier. Wuxian could see that he was still sporting a very wide grin as she sat down next to him, and discreetly laced his hand with hers.
“Lan Zhan, just so you know,” he began as he rejoined the other three back on the sideline, “should I win, I will not be giving you permission to court me to soften the blow.” ‘Priceless’ was the best way to describe the expression that flew onto Wangji’s face. So much so, it sent Wuxian into a hysterical fit.
“Wei Ying!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Lan Zhan,” he cheerfully said as he wiped away a small laughter fueled tear.
“Where…wh…why would you say that?” Wangji managed to stammer out after a moment, as Wuxian continued to lightly chuckle.
“It seems that Lan Fanghua gave her previous opponent permission to court her.” Wangji raised an eyebrow then cocked his eyes to the stands, seeming to hunt for the Lan in question.
“Did you know about them?” Wangji shook his head slightly in answer, as he had zeroed in on Lan Fanghua sitting with who could be assumed her eventual intended. Her smile was just as bright as Yu Pengxi’s as she subtly leaned into his side. “Well, in any event, they do look cute together.” Wangji responded with his signature quiet “Mn.”
The sun was making a home in the mid afternoon sky when Jin Zixuan, Lan Wangji, Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian walked onto the stage for the semi final round. The Tingshan He judge called the spectators to attention as he stepped to the center, carrying a shining, lacquered bamboo container of Guan Yin sticks. “Cultivators and spectators gathered here,” he shouted above the din so that he could be heard, “the penultimate round of the competition is about to begin!” The crowd responded with a brief round of clapping with some shouts of encouragement to the four remaining. Jiang Yanli let out a loud squeal of encouragement for her brothers. They both scanned the crowd for her and quickly sent a wide smile and a wave her way.
“For the next round of competition,” he held up the canister of Guan Yin sticks for all to see, “we will let fate decide the matches.” Wuxian shared a quick glance with all of the remaining combatants, confusion made their way into their faces at the change to the roster that was being presented. “The cultivator who draws the highest number, will receive the chance to draw their opponent for this round, and thus setting up the matches for the remainder of the contest.” Wuxian swallowed as he looked towards Jiang Wanyin, who was taking the darkly lacquered canister into his palms. He held his breath as he listened to the gentle sound of the thin bamboo sticks hitting against each other as they moved through the air, and the collective loud thunk of them hitting the bottom of the container as it shook in his brother’s hands.
This surprise had changed everything with how he thought the afternoon competition would proceed. He glanced at Jin Zixuan, the person who was supposed to be his opponent for this round. The difficulty of fighting Jin Zixuan would be high. Jin swordsmanship was flamboyant in nature, a spectacle to observe, and was always a crowd favorite. But in its’ flamboyancy was its power; distracting enemy combatants. Wuxian would have to be on the top of his game if he was his opponent. Now however, who knows. It could still be Jin Zixuan after everything was said and done, but by the same measure, it could be Lan Wangji or Jiang Wanyin. The odds were good that his opponent would not be his shidi, but…still. A soft clink of a stick hitting the ground and the shaking stopped. Wuxian let out his breath when his brother picked up the stick and read the number out loud.
“Sixty-three.”
The judge quickly adjusted the remaining sticks back into the container before passing it into his nervous hands. The large cluster of numbers in tiny elegant script stared back at him as they rested in the canister, ready to bestow his fortune for the rest of the competition. He held his breath again and began to shake.
Clunk.
He had to get a higher number than Jiang Wanyin.
Clank.
He wanted to be the one left standing.
Clunk.
If only fate was kind…
Clink.
One of the sticks had fallen to the ground. He paired a resigned smile with a shrug for the crowd as he said aloud, “Twenty-Seven,” and passed the fateful canister back to the judge. Who was he kidding? Fate was in control here. None of the finalists had any power over this contest, only the illusion of it. He put on a brave smile and nudged his brother with his elbow. Provided fate was unkind to Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji, Jiang Wanyin would be the lucky one to set the bouts for the remaining competition. Wuxian tensed in anticipation as Jin Zixuan began to shake.
Clink. Wei Wuxian heard his brother hold his breath as Jin Zixuan picked up the stick from the ground, which was summarily followed by a loaded sigh when he heard Jin Zixuan say, “Eighty-four.” Alright, that would be a hard number to beat, but maybe fate would smile on Lan Wangji, as he watched him take the container and begin to shake. Taking into consideration his bout with Wangji yesterday, they were evenly matched, barely. But if he were to lose, it would probably be a match he would enjoy losing though, then he could then spend the rest of the competition cheering him on along with Jiang Wanyin. Soon the collective thunk was joined by a light clink as fate landed on the ground at Lan Wangji’s feet.
“Thirty-five.” Wangji quietly read. Wuxian could hear Jin Zixuan let out a quiet breath from either relief or possible apprehension, judging from the look on his face. Another judge stepped forward with the wooden box that had helped to set the bouts for the entire competition two days ago, and held it out expectantly to the Jin heir. The crowd was deathly quiet as Jin Zixuan closed his eyes and drew a name from the box. The sudden drop of Wuxian’s stomach was immense when Lan Wangji’s name was read aloud. That meant… His eyes shot to his shidi, who was also staring at him with the same levels of apprehension and dread if not more. Jiang Wanyin’s expression danced from shock to hardened, almost angry determination before walking past him, back to the sideline. As they exited, Wuxian observed his brother flick his eyes up towards the top of the stands once or twice, the area reserved for sect leaders, where his mother and father were seated. Jiang Fengmian looked rather pained at the realization that his son and ward would be fighting each other. But Yu Furen? Shivers from her icy terrifying stare ran up and down his spine when he made eye-contact with her, and he threw his sights to the ground to better calm the nerves raking up and down his body from what fate had prepared for them.
Tenseness settled between them like heavy air before a thunderstorm, a strange prickly sensation of calm before the heavens opened up in divine fury. Frustratingly, Jiang Wanyin was keeping his eyes fixed on the fight that was happening, if he was paying attention though, it was unclear. He and Jiang Wanhyin had sparred and fought enough over the years to know each other’s moves backwards and forwards. They both also knew that Wei Wuxian was the superior soldier, and also how much that fact galled Madam Yu. If he won, there was no question as to whether or not he would be on the receiving end of her wrath. But if the son of Jiang Zongzhu, the next in line to be leader of the Jiang sect lost to his first disciple, in front of the entire cultivation world no less, Jiang Wanyin would also be feeling his mother’s fury in more ways than one for the foreseeable future.
Wuxian swallowed. He could throw the match, lose. He had done enough to earn the right to go to the celebration that evening as himself, which was all he really wanted anyways. With his skill, making the loss look convincing would be nothing, and no one in the audience would be the wiser. His loss would also be good from a narrative perspective; the Yunmeng representative in the final match should be the heir, and not the first disciple. The tension that was steadily pooling in his chest and head dissipated as he realized the relative ease of the solution. Jiang Wanyin was still watching the match with apparent intense attention, when Wuxian broke the tension that was still hanging in the air between them.
“Jiang Cheng, I think that-”
“You had better fight with all you have got, Wei Wuxian,” he quickly interrupted, still not pulling his gaze from Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan battling out for placement in the final match.
“Jiang Cheng, you-”
“Fight. I will win or lose based on my own merit,” he tersely explained as he finally pulled away from the arena and turned in his direction, eyes steely and more determined than Wuxian had seen in a very long time. “You will not interfere in that.”
“What about-”
“Do it, Wei Wuxian,” he held his gaze for what seemed an interminable length of time in his own intense one before he finished, “Or I will not forgive you,” then returned his attention ahead to the arena.
Shit.
Wei Wuxian looked directly ahead, but his mind went frustratingly blank save one thought, “What do I do?” He was mulling over his options with such intensity, he barely noticed a deep voice quietly calling his name.
“Wei Ying?”
“Oh, Lan Zhan. I see you won your match,” he smiled readily, quickly masking the dilemma playing out on his face.
“Mn. It is time for yours.” He replied, with a small nod towards the stage. Wuxian could see that Jiang Wanyin was already determinedly making his way towards the circle. With a quick huff, Wuxian gripped Suibian and made his way to face his shidi, his mind still furiously sifting between his options. By the time he found himself face to face with Wanyin, he still had no idea how the match was going to end; only that any outcome was going to be difficult.
It was the slowest start to any of the matches that had happened that day, with neither of them wanting or wishing to be the first to make a move. Questioning murmurs from the crowd finally spurred Wanyin to hesitantly start to circle the arena’s edge, slowly making his way in his direction. Wuxian leveled his gaze, knowing that if he broke eye contact for a moment, Jiang Wanyin would take that opportunity in an instant. Part of Wuxian wanted to give him that advantage, to let him win and present to everyone else a show. The other part of him wanted to give his shidi what he had ordered him to do; fight. Give him his best, even if it meant Wanyin’s defeat and Yu Ziyuan’s outrage. For the moment, he held his martial brother in his sights. If he wanted a fight, he would give him one for the time being.
Wanyin was quite close now, holding his sword Sandu in a defensive manner across his torso and neck, but clearly ready to strike should he find an opening. Gently, Wuxian stepped within touching distance of Sandu and brought Suibian up to meet her. In a move that was pure drama, and entirely for the audience, he slowly moved Suibian up and down the length of Sandu as he circled Wanyin, creating a grating sound of metal against metal, before coming to a stop in the center.
In the breath of a moment, the air in the arena went from uncomfortably tense to explosive, as Wanyin brought Sandu into a massive swing towards Wuxian, knocking Suibian out of the way and clearing a path towards his middle. Seeing Sandu coming towards him, Wuxian immediately righted himself and stepped backwards, giving himself time for a counter block, Suibian making loud contact with Sandu as he moved. Using a fair amount of his strength and Wanyin’s momentum, he used Suibian to push Sandu fully towards the ground, and his shoulder slamming into his brother, sending him more than a few steps towards the circle's edge. The sudden collective gasp of the crowd was a sure indicator of how close to out of bounds he had actually gotten. Wuxian needed to be more careful; he had no desire for the match to end soon.
In a heartbeat, Wanyin was on him again, trying to find targets with probing swings and lunges with his sword. Wuxian connected on each blow, remaining on the defensive, giving Wanyin every opportunity to try and find an opening. Wanyin knew exactly what he was doing, and the anger was growing steadily on his face as the match went on.
“Damn it, fight back!” He spit out when an exchange brought them close enough to share some minimal words.
Fine.
Expertly, Wuxian pushed him away then with a spin brought Suibian down into the opening he had made, right on Wanyin’s neck.
Point.
Wuxian did not bother to look at his martial brother as he took up position back at the circle's center for the start of the next round. However, he could not help but look up at the top of the stands, back towards Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. To anyone else looking, Madam Yu’s face betrayed nothing as she observed the match between the two Jiang representatives. But Wuxian could see the cold fury behind her eyes. Her piercing gaze was not directed at him however; it was squarely on Wanyin, indignant, immovable, and furious.
Decision made.
It may have been from his own frustration at the match, but caution seemed to have gone to the wayside slightly as Wanyin boldly strode his way over to Wuxian for the first exchange of the next round. He met him in the middle, swinging Sandu masterfully for Wuxian’s legs and catching him off guard with the unconventional choice of target. In less than a heartbeat, Wuxian quickly dodged, took a measured step backwards and brought Suibian down in a forceful block. There was no time to breathe as their swords clashed together then sprung apart as Wanyin brought Sandu’s edge barreling towards Wuxian’s arm. In a flash of speed, Wuxian had brought Suibian up to block his shoulder then swung his blade towards Wanyin’s front. It was a move that was well practiced and powerful should it connect with its target, but unfortunately opened up Wuxian to an easy attack. Wanyin took the bait, and slammed him hard with the full force of his body, sending Wuxian backwards a few steps.
A glimpse of the arena’s edge came into view as Wuxian quickly righted himself, and prepared for the next exchange. Wanyin’s skills in matters of warfare were amongst the best of their generation, but like all other practitioners he had his weak points. Emotions and letting them get the best of him were his. When confidence was high, it influenced his choices to become more brazen and less guarded, leaving him open to his opponents. Frustration caused the opposite to occur. The tenseness in his movements was evident, as Wanyin moved back into range. His moves were tight, not as fluid as they would normally be if he were more level headed. His tells were subtle, but thanks to their years of practice, Wuxian could easily see his brother’s thoughts, the slight telegraphing of his moves as the match went on.
Back on the defensive, Wuxian swung Suibian up to meet a wide swing downwards from Sandu. The blades crashed together then Sandu slid downwards, resulting in a loud metallic scraping sound, sending Wuxian stepping backwards once more, and causing a very loud cacophony of gasps and cries from the stands.
“Match, Jiang Wanyin!” Wanyin’s eyes widened at the declaration, the questions of “What?” and “How?” clearly expressed on his face. Another judge stepped forward and explained to the entire arena, “Wei Wuxian has stepped out of bounds. As a result, the fight is forfeit to Jiang Wanyin.” As they bowed to officially end their bout, Wuxian could easily observe the tightness of Wanyin’s face and the subtle clenching of his fists. He quickly mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before exiting the arena, and putting some distance between them.
Wanyin’s frustration and tension followed him into the final round of the competition, and if it had any influence on Wangji, it merely made his victory arrive slightly faster. Wanting to delay the inevitable argument that was coming, Wei Wuxian quickly slipped out of the stands with Nie Huaisang and Wen Qionglin following closeby.
Wuxian threw on a quick ready smile to mask his disappointment as Nie Huaisang congratulated him. “Wei Wuxian, well done today! You really put on a show out there.”
“Thank you,” Wuxian quickly replied. On matters of combat, Nie Huaisang despised it when he had to participate, but in terms of spectatorship however, he was an expert.
“Your match was quite the spectacle. It’s a shame that you got knocked out of bounds.”
“Just not my lucky day I guess.”
“Did you not see the circle's edge, Wei Gongzi?” Wen Qionglin asked in a quiet voice. “It’s not like you to make a mistake like that.” Wuxian shrugged. “Like I said, just not my-
“Wei Wuxian!” A familiar voice bit out. Wei Wuxian had a breath to register that his brother was calling to him, before he was quickly and painfully grabbed by the shoulder and dragged off. It was as if Wanyin’s fingers had become a vice; Wuxian tried every twist and push he could as they moved into a secluded nearby area. His brother’s grip refused to budge.
“Jiang Cheng! What are you- Let go!” Unfortunately, if anything, his complaints made that grip on his arm worse, and Wuxian winced at the sharpness of fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric of his sleeves. If Wanyin noticed that Nie Huaisang and Wen Qionglin were following closely behind, he made no show of concern as he proceeded to grab Wuxian by the collar and press him up against a wall with a thud and a hiss as the back of his head made contact with plaster and wood.
“Jiang Cheng!”
“Why, Wei Wuxian?!”
“I couldn’t-” Wuxian gripped Wanyin’s wrists in an attempt to pry him off. Wanyin pulled in closer, his voice becoming more and more unrestrained and loud as he leaned in.
“You couldn't do what? Fight me properly?!”
“No! I-”
“Is it because you thought I couldn’t win!”
“...No shidi, I-”
“How could you?!”
“Jiang Cheng, please-”
“Why?!"
“I could not let her hurt you!” Wanyin blinked, paused, his breaths still deep and angry as he continued to hold Wei Wuxian against the wall.
“You don’t know what she would do,” he retorted with a whisper. Wuxian sighed, trying to maintain his composure while he loosened his grip on Wanyin’s wrists to a more comforting pressure. “We both know she would,” he quietly replied. Realization mixed in with fury and sadness behind Jiang Wanyin’s eyes, as his grip slackened and eventually he let go, but Wuxian did not. They stood there for a moment, not breaking their sights on the other, until Wanyin twisted his wrists out of Wuxian’s grip and he turned to leave.
“That was still not your call to make Wei Wuxian,” he quietly bit out as he turned to exit, leaving Wei Wuxian with tears gently falling down his face, looking quite broken with Wen Qionglin and Nie Huaisang nearby to help pick up the pieces.
Waves of guilt and anger over what had happened at the tournament crashed through his gut and head, but he masked it quite easily with a ready smile and laugh to anyone he spoke to. Wei Wuxian had always been better at hiding his emotions than Jiang Wanyin, who spent the evening festivities looking like someone had spit in his wine, giving only the barest of smiles and nods as people congratulated him on his second place finish. If ever a second place felt hollow, it was his. And by all standards of measure, it was a hollow one. Still even though it pained Wei Wuxian to see the anger and disappointment on his shidi’s face, he could not bring himself to feel as though he had made the incorrect choice, regardless of how Jiang Wanyin had felt. The best course of action was only slightly better than the other. It still hurt.
Wuxian’s original plan was to enjoy himself to his fullest extent that evening. But after what had happened during his last round of the tournament, he could no longer find it within himself to follow through. By the time the limits of propriety ran its course and he had been congratulated by enough attendees, Wei Wuxian was seriously considering exiting. After seeing Lan Wangji exit the pavilion not long afterwards, he decided to do the same. Grabbing some small lotus cakes and a bottle of wine on the way out, Wei Wuxian followed out into the quiet of the night, finding Lan Wangji walking towards the thoroughfare and nearby pier.
“Lan Zhan!”
“Wei Ying?” Wuxian waved as he made his way over.
“The winner of the tournament does not want to stay for his own celebration?” he teased, to which Wangji allowed a small head shake. “Eaah, that’s fair,” Wuxian grinned. “It was getting too loud and stuffy there anyways.” After asking to join Wangji in his late night walk, the pair made their way down the pier, slowly meandering in a vague direction of the Lan pavilion in relative silence. Wangji kept throwing his gaze out to the water, taking in the moonlight reflected in the water and the hints of lotus floating on its surface while perfuming the night air.
“It is beautiful here, Wei Ying.”
“Yeah, it's a shame it only lasts a couple of weeks.”
“Will it end soon?”
“Mn. Harvest season will begin next month. We spend days out in boats collecting pods, plucking seeds. Then we have to prepare all of it for preservation. It’s actually a lot of fun, but I do miss the flowers when they go,” he sighed. After finding a small dock that jutted slightly out into the water, the pair sat down to let their feet soak, and to appreciate the tranquility. Wuxian began to imbibe a little wine and cake as they lounged (Wuxian lounged, Lan Wangji remained upright) on the wooden slats, taking in the evening stars.
“Oh, Lan Zhan, you should have one.” He said with a mouth full of lotus cake, holding the other out for him to take.
“I do not eat sweets. But thank you.”
“Lan Zhan, come on. You have to at least try one.” Even in the night air, he could see the apprehension on Wangji’s face, so he pressed him a little more. “Lan Zhan, you are the tournament champion, you are sitting on a dock on Lotus Lake in full bloom on a beautiful summer night. Plus, most importantly, you humiliated Wen Xu in the most polite but devastating way possible; celebrate a little.” He held the sweet up again, waving it slightly in front of him, in a very obvious playful attempt at baiting him. Surprisingly, Lan Wangi gingerly reached out, his fingertips barely brushing his as he took the sweet from his fingers. Time seemed to slow as he watched Lan Wangji carefully break off a small piece of the cake, and bring it to his mouth. Even in darkness, Wuxian could see the shape of his eyes widen a smidge and the slightest of upturned corners appear on Wangji’s mouth, betraying the smallest hints of a smile.
“Is it good Lan Zhan?” Those upturned corners relaxed back into neutrality as Wangji nodded his head and broke off another piece. As he watched him eat the next morsel, Wuxian briefly wondered what Wangji’s smile looked like, which then shifted to wondering what his lips felt like. Would they be soft like his skin? His skin was definitely soft, he remembered it from their first swimming lesson. Moonlight also seemed to suit it beautifully. It’s almost criminal how handsome Lan Zhan is. Is perfection even possible? Well if it is, Lan Zhan would definitely come close…wait a minute…hold on. Since he had joined Lan Wangji for their evening walk, that small but familiar feeling of tightness had long settled and made a home in his stomach and chest. Now though, the feeling had quite suddenly exponentially grown into a very clear and present thrum rippling through his chest and worryingly...below his waist. It was now wholly recognizable. Wei Wuxian’s mind went blank at the realization, save one terrifying thought; was he…no…it could not possibly…with Lan Wangji?!
“Wei Ying?” his soft baritone pulled him from his thoughts and firmly back onto the dock.
“Oh…um…yes, Lan Zhan?”
“You’re staring.”
…Shit.
“I was? Oh, I’m sorry. I did not realize.”
“Mn. Are you alright?” That remained to be seen, but it was probably better to reassure in any event.
“I’m fine Lan Zhan.”
To say that the rest of his time spent with Lan Wangji that evening was awkward, would be minimizing the situation on Wei Wuxian’s part. The intrusiveness of those thoughts which had started as a small trickle quickly became a waterfall of troubling revelations about Lan Wangji’s prowess, character, and natural beauty. That thrum only became more obvious and problematic as their conversation continued. After plans were rather quickly arranged to meet up the next day, Wuxian sped back to his rooms. He needed to think.
For all of his playfulness and seeming lackadaisical nature, he could be quite shrewd and analytical when the situation called for it, and this assuredly counted as one of those situations. A few years ago, he had fallen head over heels for a shop girl in Yunmeng Village. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen at the time, and lust poured out of his young teenage body whenever he saw or thought of her. The day he found out that she was married ended up being one of the worst days of his life, and he spent a good majority of it shut up in his room, wallowing in sorrow. She was the person he conjured in his head most often when he was up late in his bed at night, his hand busy finishing himself off. Laying down in bed, he thought of her again. Her ebony hair shining under the sun, the way the corners of her lips curled in her smile, her large eyes; two bright pools in a perfectly round face. The way her laugh was akin to sunshine, and her lilting, cheerful voice. Stirrings below his waist began to poke into his body and brain, and the urge to take himself in hand was starting to make itself known. Yes, he still liked girls.
Now for the second part of his experiment. After willing his body to allow the urges to subside, he began again, this time thinking of Lan Wangji. He thought about how gracefully he moved through the world even when he was in a sword fight, which naturally enhanced his seemingly perfect stature and physique. How his muscles moved under the unblemished planes of his chest when they swam together in the evenings. He stopped in shock when the realization rolled over him. The urge had not only returned, but it had intensified. There was no need to touch himself to know that he was becoming aroused, but the compulsion was still there, practically screaming at him to feel for himself. Sliding his hand inside his trousers, he could feel that he was growing, steadily. His body at least liked Lan Wangji; more than liked it would seem. For the first time since he discovered his body could do this, and after grabbing some nearby hair oil, he took himself in hand, thinking, no, fantasizing about another boy.
After the haze had waned and his mind began to rebuild itself, Wuxian took stock of the situation, while he fetched a wash basin to clean up the result of his new personal discovery. Clearly, his body was very attracted to him, but how did he even feel about Lan Wangji the person? Rather famously, the pair had squabbled when Wei Wuxian studied at Cloud Recesses a couple of years ago, not to mention the ribbon incident last year. At the beginning of this week Wei Wuxian was certain that Lan Wangji strongly disliked, if not outright hated him. Now uncertainty prevailed. Their prior experiences with each other before this conference notwithstanding, Wuxian admittedly was surprised to find Lan Wangji to be the near opposite of his icy untouchable reputation. He was in actuality incredibly gracious. He had stepped in and protected him from Madam Yu, not only on that first day, but also in his invitation to dinner. He also had the kindness not to pry into what he had seen in regards to her actions, giving him the space to share if he wanted to. Lan Wangji also had no qualms about jumping onto one of Lotus Pier’s rooftops, which was something he was certain the Lan Wangji of a year ago would have stoically balked at.
Wuxian decided that it would be doing himself a disservice not explore this new part of himself, but that exploration seemed to hinge on Lan Wangji. Would Wangji even reciprocate? As he mulled over the question, he realized that the possibility of Lan Wangji even growing feelings for him was probably very slim. They were definitely becoming friends, but anything other than friendship seemed beyond the pale for a person who held a very icy reputation and on top of which did not like to be touched, even by family. In the impossibly rare event that he even would consider it, how could this even work for the pair of them? Cut sleeve pairings were not unheard of, especially among common folk. Children of sect leaders however were expected to marry and produce heirs, in order to take over the clan in the event of their parents' passing. Wei Wuxian was not an heir, but Lan Wangji most definitely was. However, he was the second son, he had a brother who could supposedly continue on the family line. And besides that, events where the title of sect leader was passed down to a chosen heir rather than a child, had precedent, but it was still uncommon.
Then there were the literal mechanics that he had to work out. Thanks to his own regular perusal of Spring Books, he was fairly certain of how it worked between a man and a woman. But two men? What were the logistics of that? He may not know, but that did not mean he could not easily discover it. Taking a seat at his nearby desk, he quickly prepared, then sent off a butterfly missive into the night;
“Hey Nie Huaisang, can I borrow that book you bought yesterday?”