Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He’ll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Notes:

As always for amnesiafic, please take the amnesia in this with a grain of salt. It's a storytelling catalyst, not meant to be an accurate depiction of real-life amnesia.

Also, I went through like 3 other engineering-joke titles before settling on this one, which makes less sense, but is a bit more fun than just 'segmentation fault.'

Anyway: magpiemountains, your Yuletide letter sparked so much joy for me that I couldn’t help but write this for you! All the stuff you said about WWX having ADHD, and also LWJ’s devotion, and all your love for the characters and prompts—I just felt you needed a good old fashioned tropey amnesia fic. So I hope you enjoy this!

Much love to static_abyss for line edits and thorough syntax notes; vintageblueskies for the final lookover and ancient China (and otherwise) related notes; and, as usual, to renaissance for straightening out my sentences. All other mistakes are my own.

(See the end of the work for more notes)

Wei Wuxian’s head hurts.

That’s the first thing he registers. The second is: wow, the floor is really comfortable. Did he blow all the money they had on a nice cot for his cave and then promptly forget about it? It wouldn’t be the first time he fell asleep in the middle of an invention and promptly forgot about it the next day. It’s why he has so many talismans lying around all the time. Wen Qing gets annoyed but it’s not her cave, so she can’t do much beyond clicking her tongue in disapproval.

But as he opens his eyes, he realizes he’s not in his cave. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s nowhere near the Burial Mounds. The sunlight seeps in unobtrusively, making him feel calm and normal in a way he hasn’t since he last spent a night in the Lotus Pier. But that was years ago, so why… ?

He sits up and looks down. There’s an unfinished talisman lying on his chest.

Well at least that’s normal. Although what was he trying to do with this? Extend one’s stamina?

There’s that, and there’s also the fact that this room looks unfamiliar. Peaceful. There’s no resentful energy anywhere. No A-Yuan bursting in asking if he can play, or Si-shu asking if he wants to try his fruit wine, or Wen Ning wondering if he’s cooking potatoes or turnips today. Something’s wrong.

He gets up and promptly has to steady himself. Dizziness overtakes him in waves, and suddenly he feels the need to empty his stomach.

No! He’s the Yiling Laozu. He doesn’t show such weaknesses or cave to such meager human compulsions.

He swallows his nausea down and resolves to figure out: where the fuck is he?

But his breathing is a bit thin—not uncomfortable, but noticeable, to him at least. He’s at a higher altitude than the Burial Mounds, which isn’t much of a feat; there are tons of mountains in China. And yet, like a flash of inspiration, he knows. He’s not in the Lotus Pier, nor Yiling or anywhere else. He’s in the Cloud Recesses.

He storms out. His suspicions are confirmed when he sees Lan Wangji sitting at a low table, delicately writing something.

Lan Wangji looks up, calm. Unsurprised. “Wei Ying,” he says.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t register that Lan Wangji looks much older than when he last saw him—bigger, relaxed, happier. “Lan Wangji,” he sneers. “So you’ve resorted to underhanded tactics, have you?”

A flicker of something passes over Lan Wangji’s face. Wei Wuxian doesn’t let himself try to place it.

“The noble Hanguang-jun wanted to cleanse the Yiling Laozu that much, did he?”

Wei Wuxian feels the anger in him, even though it feels more like a low simmer, like he has to drag it up. He can’t bring himself to be that mad at Lan Wangji, especially because of whatever expression Lan Wangji has on his face right now: quietly confused and innocent, open and vulnerable. It makes Wei Wuxian’s stomach turn.

Lan Wangji intones, “What?”

“This! You! I—” Wei Wuxian flails his arms. “All of this! I’m in the Cloud Recesses, aren’t I? You finally got what you wanted, knocked me out and brought me here to punish me and keep me captive. And you’re here to watch over me, make sure I don’t leave.”

Again, Lan Wangji says, “What?”

This time there is a small furrow behind his eyebrows. Wei Wuxian’s fingers twitch to press it down.

No! Those are weird instincts, ones he doesn’t know where they come from. All the more to be ignored, to be distrusted.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Wei Wuxian says accusingly. “I know your tricks, knew you would wait for me to let my guard down before kidnapping me and bringing me here. Take me away from Yiling, and now there’s—” Realization comes to him. “Now there’s no one protecting the Wen Remnants! Especially A-Yuan and Wen Ning!”

He flies at Lan Wangji, who puts up no fight. This is bizarre. But it makes it easier for him to pummel Lan Wangji to death.

“You heartless bastard, Hanguang-jun! You didn’t care about A-Yuan or anybody when you visited, you were just trying to capture me—”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji reaches up with a large hand and captures both of Wei Wuxian’s hands in his. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about my being here, all this—”

Wei Wuxian flails. Lan Wangji looks at him carefully, sets his hands down, bringing Wei Wuxian down with him. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to do. He’s a little—a little scared, a little tired, a little furious. Lan Wangji observes him, looks him deep in his eyes, as if searching for something that Wei Wuxian is pretty sure isn’t there.

“Let me go!” he says, trying to wrench himself away, trying to get up.

But apparently he’s either become really weak or Lan Wangji’s become insanely strong—well, he’s always been insanely strong—because no amount of fidgeting will get him out of Lan Wangji’s grip.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian laughs, high and hysterical. “The last thing I remember? You know how bad my memory is, Lan Zhan, how am I supposed to know? I…” he searches his mind frantically, trying to find something. “Well, my shijie told me she was getting ready for her wedding, and she let me pick out her first son’s courtesy name. And I think I started working on some new talisman thing. But beyond that, it’s not like I know what day of the lunar cycle it is!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes go soft in the middle of his rant. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how he can tell, it’s not like Lan Wangji’s a very expressive person. But apparently Wei Wuxian can read him just fine.

Lan Wangji still has his hands wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s, but loose, like he’s not afraid of Wei Wuxian running away anymore. Well that’s a mistake! Wei Wuxian keeps trying to twist himself away, but even Lan Wangji’s eased grip is more than a match for him.

“How about your golden core?” Lan Wangji asks. “How does it feel?”

How does he—Wei Wuxian laughs again, this time half-heartedly. “What do you mean, Lan Zhan?” he asks. “My golden core feels—”

Wait. There’s spiritual energy tingling in his fingertips—through his veins, his upper and middle and lower dantian. It’s weak, but there. When he had his golden core, it was so strong and promising like a rush of adrenaline that lived in his body, eager for cultivation. Now it’s—it’s not the same, but it’s there.

“What the fuck?” he says, and then looks down at himself, realizing for the first time that his hands don’t look—the same. The robe he’s wearing is unfamiliar, and does he feel shorter? Smaller?

“What the fuck!” he says again, trying to scramble up.

Lan Wangji holds him down, fingers tightening around his wrist. “Do not panic,” he says, which is funny because Wei Wuxian is definitely not panicking.

“I’m not panicking, I’m—” Wei Wuxian twists to look around at himself. Even his butt feels a little bigger. At least his hair feels the same, long and thick as usual. “What did you do to me? Why am I like this? How did you—”

“Do not panic,” Lan Wangji says again.

He looks at Wei Wuxian, considering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know he could read all of Lan Wangji’s micro expressions but they tickle at the back of his subconscious, the smallest amount of foreign familiarity.

Lan Wangji says, “Freeze.”

Which—Wei Wuxian doesn’t know why he said that. But then Lan Wangji lets go of his hands, and Wei Wuxian immediately tries to move away—and can’t? Is this some sort of Gusu Lan immobilization spell he never learned about?

“Lan Zhan!” he says indignantly.

But Lan Wangji ignores him and gets up. He leaves to the room that Wei Wuxian had come from, and comes back with a small furrow between his eyebrows, again.

“I am going to check your vitals now, Wei Ying,” he says, bending down so he’s eye level with Wei Wuxian. “I will not hurt you.”

“Like hell you won’t!” Wei Wuxian struggles against the spell, but it’s too strong and his golden core is too weak for movement to be possible. “Let me go!”

Lan Wangji ignores him and inspects his eyes, performs a spell near his head and his heart and every part of his dantian. Wei Wuxian has no choice but to let it happen, even if it feels a bit intrusive with the way Lan Wangji’s face is right in front of his stomach.

Then Lan Wangji sits back and summons his guqin. “I will play Cleansing for you,” he says.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian protests as Lan Wangji starts playing. “Lan Wangji! Hanguang-jun! Let me go!”

He kind of wants to cry. That always worked when A-Yuan did it, crying to get adults to do whatever he wanted. But Wei Wuxian expects it won’t go over well since he’s a grown man. Lan Wangji is certainly resistant to these sorts of things.

He has no choice but to sit there as Lan Wangji plays Cleansing. It actually feels kind of nice. Not, of course, as though Wei Wuxian is grateful to Lan Wangji for kidnapping him to the Cloud Recesses and doing—whatever the fuck he did to make it feel like he has his golden core back. Something in the back of his mind tells him that this is wrong, that certainly something else must be going on. But he ignores it. Why would the venerable Hanguang-jun do something so dishonorable?

When Lan Wangji is done, he asks Wei Wuxian, “How do you feel?”

“Like a chicken caught in a trap,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “Also, my nose itches. Why did you make me freeze in such an uncomfortable position?”

This time something more unfamiliar—sad, perhaps—flits over Lan Wangji’s face. “I am sorry,” he says. “Where does your nose itch?”

“On the side,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji extends a finger, touching one side of Wei Wuxian’s nose. “Higher,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Wangji obeys, moving his finger just slightly to find the spot that’s irritating Wei Wuxian’s skin. He scratches the itch, and Wei Wuxian breathes out. At least Lan Wangji is helping him with something.

Lan Wangji pulls away. “Wei Ying,” he says. “I am going to search the Library Pavilion to find a cure to your ailment.”

This gets Wei Wuxian started again. “Ailment? What ailment?” he demands. “Are you talking about demonic cultivation again? Because we—”

“No,” Lan Wangji says, but does not explain further.

He gets up and heads towards the door, then hesitates.

“Do not leave the Cloud Recesses,” he tells Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian scoffs, but then Lan Wangji is gone.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know where the Library Pavilion is, much less where he is. But it’s after some time sitting in the same position, grudgingly, and thinking of ways to exact revenge on Lan Wangji—which mostly begins and ends with stealing his headband—when his limbs start to loosen. He realizes that Lan Wangji either took off the spell, or it’s worn off.

It probably wore off.

“Ah, yes,” he says, flinging himself back on the floor and stretching. “Finally. I knew I was too strong for Lan Zhan to hold me captive for too long.”

He hops to his feet and sorts out the aches in his joints, the tightness in his tendons. It still feels weird to have a golden core again, but—maybe Lan Wangji recovered it? Got him a new one? No, that’s impossible. Wen Qing is the only person in the world who’s ever done a golden core transfer. Well, the only mortal, anyway. She’ll be intrigued to know how he got it back and will want to run all sorts of experiments on him. He’s kind of looking forward to it.

So it’s no question—get the hell out of the Cloud Recesses and back to the Burial Mounds, regardless of what Lan Zhan said. Easy; except when he steps outside, he doesn’t recognize this part of Gusu. It makes sense since it burnt down and they had to rebuild it, but things can’t have changed that much in just a few years, could they? Oh well.

He bounds down the path, under the evening sky, figuring that as long as he keeps wandering, he’ll find a way out sooner or later. But he’s barely breezed around, ducking to avoid the eyes of the Lan sect (who are confused at why he’s trying to hide from them), when a small shithead with a slightly lopsided headband runs up to him and goes, “Wei-qianbei!”

“Who are you calling Wei-qianbei?” Wei Wuxian says indignantly. The kid looks undeterred as Wei Wuxian puffs himself up. “I am the Yiling Laozu!”

“Yeah, okay, Wei-qianbei,” the kid says with a roll of his eyes. “But you gotta come, Wen Ning’s got a—”

“Wen Ning?” Wei Wuxian says, lighting up. “He’s here? What’s he doing in the Cloud Recesses?”

“Well he’s not here here. You know how shifu feels about him just strolling around,” the kid says, which, wait, what? Wei Wuxian knows no such thing. “But we were on a night hunt, and—”

“Night hunt?” Wei Wuxian says incredulously.

He’s following the kid, though, because kids don’t just lie about the Gui Jiangjun like that.

The kid goes on like Wei Wuxian hasn’t interrupted. “—and, I don’t know, we think he got injured! Sizhui’s with him, even though Wen-shushu says he’s fine, but—”

Wen-shushu, Wei Wuxian thinks incredulously. Did Wen Ning make friends with a bunch of baby Lans and never tell me?

But that doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right, especially when he comes to a small clearing outside of the Cloud Recesses to Wen Ning and another Lan kid resting up against some tree, a strange but otherwise harmless looking scar on Wen Ning’s arm. Wei Wuxian knows from first glance that it’s nothing to worry about, but seeing Wen Ning here is barely fathomable even when it’s right in front of his eyes.

“Wen Ning!” he says, and Wen Ning looks at him with a smile.

“Wei-gongzi,” he says. It’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” Wei Wuxian crosses his arms, trying and failing to look stern.

It’s a relief to have something he knows for once, what with these random Lan kids, and whatever the Cloud Recesses turned into, and Lan Wangji’s annoying immobilization spells. Although seeing Wen Ning in Gusu is bizarre as hell, he’ll take what he can get.

Wen Ning shrugs, jostling his mangled arm. “Ah, I won’t need much, it’s nothing serious.”

“Of course it’s serious!” says the first Lan kid loudly. “Wen-shushu, look at you! Who knows what that gui did to you?”

“Probably not much,” Wei Wuxian says.

He bends down and examines the wound. With a golden core now, he can feel the spiritual energy, how Wen Ning was attacked. Vicious, but harmless, nothing long-lasting. He passes some spiritual energy over, and Wen Ning’s arm begins healing.

“There. Nothing to worry about, see?”

“Thank you, Wei-qianbei,” says the other kid, who doesn’t seem as annoying as the first.

We Wuxian sighs. “What’s with all this qianbei stuff? Don’t you guys recognize me?” he says. “I’m the Yiling Laozu, the inventor of Demonic Cultivation!”

“Yeah, yeah,” says the second kid with a roll of his eyes.

Wei Wuxian gawks. The impudence! “Wen Ning, how do you deal with this disrespect?” he demands. “And when did you have time to make friends with Lan juniors, anyway? Where’s your sister?”

Wen Ning frowns. “My sister?”

“Yes! Wen Qing!”

Huffing, Wei Wuxian paces. Gone is the relief that seeing Wen Ning again gave him. Wen Ning has clearly lost it, too. Did he forget about his sister? Defect to become a—what, a fierce corpse for Gusu Lan? Did Lan Wangji kidnap him too? Nothing is making sense, and either he’s gone insane or everyone else has. And he’s pretty sure he’s not insane!

Well. Not that insane.

Wen Ning looks… not upset. Disturbed. “Wei-gongzi,” he says slowly. “You can’t have forgotten. Jie died about fourteen years ago.”

Wei Wuxian’s head spins.

“What,” he says.

He sits down on the forest ground. This has to be a joke, right? Yet Wen Ning is solemn, and the two kids are watching him with worry.

“Fourteen years ago,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “Wen Qing… died?”

Wen Ning nods.

“So did you!” the annoying Lan kid pipes up. Both his friend and Wen Ning turn to him. The kid shrugs. “What? It’s true.”

“I—what?” Wei Wuxian says. None of this feels—he has to be dreaming. What? “I died?”

“Wei—” the other Lan kid starts.

But before any of them can say anything else, there’s a slight rustling, footsteps. Out from between the trees steps Lan Wangji, stopping at the sight of them, unsurprised.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to think. What to feel.

Both the kids rush to stand up. “Hanguang-jun,” they say, bowing, and Lan Wangji nods.

Even Wen Ning greets him with a, “Lan-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian’s head is still spinning.

He stands up.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, holding himself steady. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

On the way back to the pavilion that has Jingshi scrawled under the fascia, Lan Wangji is silent. Wei Wuxian would attribute it to his normal quiet demeanor, except Lan Wangji looks—Wei Wuxian can place it now—guilty. As he should! There’s something wrong, and Lan Wangji should’ve told him right away, instead of fucking off to—to find a cure for his ailment or whatever. Whatever this ailment is. Maybe Wei Wuxian was dropped into another universe. Or maybe he’s just having the most insane dream known to man.

Lan Wangji sits them down at the low table in the Jingshi. He doesn’t even say anything first, or pour tea, as though he knows that if Wei Wuxian doesn’t say something first, he’ll explode.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, and takes a deep breath. It’s not the easiest thing for him right now. “Alright. Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji responds, seemingly automatically.

That’s a distraction! That’s—no, Wei Wuxian will not get distracted. “Lan Zhan,” he says again. “Why the hell is Wen Ning telling me his sister died? Why are children, your children telling me that I died? Speaking of, who are they? Why is Wen Ning friends with them? Why is he here? Why are the kids calling me qianbei? Why—?”

He tries to think of more questions, but the aching at his temple skyrockets, making him glad that he’s sitting. There’s—too much, and he feels lost at sea, like he’d woken up in the middle of the ocean when he fell asleep on land.

Lan Wangji waits for him to calm down before responding. There is a tightness to his lips.

“I believe you have a case of amnesia,” he says to Wei Wuxian, which makes him start. But Lan Wangji continues, “Your memory has reverted back to where you were, before you—”

He swallows, blinks away. Then continues.

“Many events happened in the last decade,” he tells Wei Wuxian. “Events that you, for some reason, cannot recall at this moment. These are things that you have already made peace with. That we—that you have already learned to move on from.”

“Move on?” Wei Wuxian says blankly. “Move on from what?”

Lan Wangji looks at him. Away, again.

“I believe that your memory will come back eventually,” he says, instead of answering Wei Wuxian’s question. “The rest of your body seems perfectly healthy.”

Wei Wuxian would be infuriated, except he realizes that the idea of being like this—that he might swim alone in this confusion forever—hadn’t even occurred to him. But that Lan Wangji thinks he won’t is a bit of a reassurance.

“Okay, so,” Wei Wuxian breathes out, then looks at his weird new hands. “Okay—wait.” He frowns. “That kid said that I died. Or Wen Ning did. Or something.”

Lan Wangji isn’t looking at him when he says, “Yes.”

“Then how am I alive? How am I—this body?” Wei Wuxian flips his hands around. Peeks down at his robe. Between his legs, it’s a bit—different. “I’m alive? In—”

“It’s getting late,” Lan Wangji interrupts.

Wei Wuxian is positive “no interrupting” is one of the rules of the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji stands up, still not looking him in the eye. “When you were experimenting with your talismans, you accidentally added an extra stroke and caused yourself a minor fall and this minor lapse of memory,” he says, like he’s trying to distract Wei Wuxian again. Well it won’t—

“Oh, the one about stamina?” Wei Wuxian remembers. “What was that about?”

“I do not know.” Lan Wangji treads to another room in the Jingshi.

Wei Wuxian trails after him. “But you must know!” he insists. “Lan Zhan, I have so many questions!”

“It is nearing hai-shi,” Lan Wangji remarks. “I can answer your questions tomorrow.”

He’s—not wrong, but still. If they’re about fourteen years older, then Lan Wangji should be able to stay up a few more minutes.

“But I wanna know now,” Wei Wuxian whines. “You’re so mean! How could you be this mean to an amnesiac Lan Zhan? Isn’t there something in the Cloud Recesses rules about that?”

Something like amusement passes over Lan Wangji’s face, but is gone in the next moment, as though he is trying to hide it.

“No, but we should add it,” he says.

Wei Wuxian gapes. “Did you tell a joke? Did Lan Zhan tell a joke?” he says, as Lan Wangji discards his layers and layers of outer robes, folding them neatly and putting them away. “I must be fourteen years into the future, or I suppose, lost fourteen years of my memory, if Lan Zhan is telling jokes.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian knows, just knows that he’s pleased with himself. “Will you prepare for sleep as well?”

“I—oh, right.” Wei Wuxian looks down at himself, at this strange body that still feels wrong in some places. It’s not bad, just—he’s definitely lost a few centimeters, at least.

“I suppose,” he says grudgingly, “since I’m an amnesiac and all. But you better answer my questions in the morning, Lan Zhan.”

“I promise,” Lan Wangji says gravely.

“Well.” Wei Wuxian flounders for a bit. “Good. Now where do I sleep?”

“In here,” Lan Wangji answers, which—wait, what?

Wei Wuxian’s already dealt with the reality that apparently he died (he refuses to think of anyone else who might’ve), but now Lan Wangji’s telling him that they—what?

“Your bed is over there,” Lan Wangji continues, nodding to another bed against the wall that Wei Wuxian hadn’t noticed before. Lan Wangji hesitates. “But—sometimes you like to come into mine.”

“What,” Wei Wuxian blurts like an idiot. “What, you’re saying—I sleep in your bed too? With you?”

Lan Wangji nods, though he averts his gaze. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not!” Wei Wuxian says, though at this point Lan Wangji has put his sleep robes over his inner robes and is climbing into bed. “I just—are you saying I live here? With you?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji tilts his head slightly. His eyes are closed.

“And I sleep in your bed?”

“Sleep, Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji, and then his breathing slows, like he’d fallen asleep immediately.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian rushes to him, but Lan Wangji doesn’t stir. “Lan Zhan, you can’t just—”

Of course he’s like this. He’s just the same as he was in our youth. But… with a sense of humor now? This Lan Zhan is…

He stops as Lan Wangji’s words register. All of them.

But… I like to sleep with him? Why? He’s just my friend, and even if he brought me to Gusu, it’s totally inappropriate! We’re friends! And why do we live together?

The thought occurs to him like a strike of lightning.

Wait… are we a couple? Are we together? Is he my husband?

But I’m not a cut-sleeve. And I have my own bed. But… he says I like to sleep in his bed. What does that even mean? Does he expect me to climb into bed with him now?

Wei Wuxian blindly goes through his nightly routine, barely conscious of it. Like his body remembers where everything is, what he usually does, even if he doesn’t.

No, I can’t, I’m not—I’m not a cut-sleeve. Or at least I’m not right now, even if I am in the future. Am I going to become a cut-sleeve in the future? No, I…

Eventually, he finds himself in his own bed, across the room from Lan Wangji. Eventually, his tired and aching head hits the pillow, with the hopeful promise of sleep. Eventually, the darkness overtakes him—or, it should.

But there are so many thoughts running through his head, buzzing, loud and incessant, that it is a long time before he falls asleep.

By the time he wakes up, sunlight is streaming in through the windows of the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian rubs his eyes, momentarily forgetting where he is again—then he remembers last night. Ah yes. Death. Amnesia. Cut-sleeves.

It still sounds impossible. But as his body goes through his morning routine, as he slowly wakes up, he registers that he hadn’t had to think to find his clothes behind a closet panel, just knew instinctively it was there. It’s a weird feeling, but there are other things creeping in the back of his mind too, things he just feels are right: the warmth of the wood beneath his feet; that he doesn’t need to worry about his robes getting dirty because Lan Wangji always takes care of it; and that sometimes during the day, he likes to see if he can catch Sizhui teaching Jingyi Lanling Jin sword fighting techniques—

He frowns at the stray thought. Who are Sizhui and Jingyi? Why would they know Lanling Jin sword fighting techniques if they’re in the Cloud Recesses? This Wei Wuxian’s life is so bizarre it’s nearly incomprehensible. At least life in the Burial Mounds was simpler.

He comes out to the main room of the Jingshi to find Lan Wangji sitting at the low table, reading. There’s food on the table, covered with what looks like temperature-keeping talismans, instead of the warming talismans that most tend to favor. Wei Wuxian quirks his mouth when he recognizes the handwriting.

Lan Wangji looks up. “Good morning, Wei Ying,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says, plopping down at the table with him. He observes the talisman on the food. “Did I make this?”

Something in Lan Wangji’s expression falls as he uncovers the food and hands Wei Wuxian a pair of chopsticks. “Yes,” he says. “You taught everyone in the kitchen how to draw the spell because they could not read your handwriting.”

“Sounds like me,” Wei Wuxian says with a chuckle. He begins to dig into his food. It’s already spiced, settled in every grain of congee, just how he likes it. “Mm! The Cloud Recesses food tastes better than I remembered.”

Lan Wangji does not reply, but there’s a faint uptick to his mouth.

Through a mouthful of food, Wei Wuxian says to him, “So you said that you would answer more of my questions when I woke up.”

Lan Wangji looks like he’s considering telling him to not talk until he’s finished. But then he seems to decide against it, and instead sets his book down and waits.

Wei Wuxian swallows down his food and a gulp of tea with gusto. “Well,” he says, then doesn’t know where to start.

When did I become a cut-sleeve? would be a good one, although there’s also, Since when have you been a cut-sleeve? and Are we married? and Are we even together?

Last night hardly felt real. This hardly feels real, and despite the apparent intimacy of their friendship, Lan Wangji has not tried to touch him, to kiss him, to remind him what their coupling is like. He probably knows it’d be a shock, Wei Wuxian figures. Lan Wangji is too good to try to spring this upon him or pressure him into something that isn’t normal for him now.

And there are other important questions, like who were the kids and what his memories mean. But more importantly:

“What’s Yunmeng Jiang like these days?” he asks Lan Wangji. “When’s the last time you visited the Lotus Pier? Jiang Cheng’s still sect leader, right?”

Lan Wangji’s face softens. “Indeed,” he says. “Jiang Wanyin’s sect leading has been… satisfactory given his situation. Although,” he frowns, “he made some questionable decisions during your death, and has not been kind to you since you came back.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” Wei Wuxian says with a roll of his eyes. “Jiang Cheng would never make it easy for me, whether I’m dead or alive.”

Lan Wangji pinches his lips together. “He can certainly afford to be kind to you,” he says. “Especially since you have known each other since you were children. Xiongzhang and I…”

“It’s alright, it’s fine.” Wei Wuxian waves his hands. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows without a doubt that Jiang Cheng may never forgive him for defecting, for taking in the Wens. As long as he’s safe and happy, and most importantly, alive, that’s all that matters.

“But Yunmeng Jiang has regained its reputation for having its difficult and prestigious cultivation lessons,” Lan Wangji continues. “And many matchmakers consider Jiang Wanyin an admirable challenge.”

Wei Wuxian falls over laughing. “Of course they do!” he says. “If he lives alone forever, I’m never gonna let him live it down.” He beams, feeling that comfort in his chest at the thought of his martial family. “What about shijie, then? Are she and that peacock raising their kid to be the spoiled brat he deserves to be?”

Lan Wangji turns his face away when he says, “No.”

He does not say anything further.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian inquires. There’s something—Lan Wangji won’t look at him. He sees his throat bob, a swallow. “What’s wrong?”

There is silence. Lan Wangji seems to be thinking, and dread creeps into Wei Wuxian’s stomach.

“Lan Zhan, is it my shijie?” he asks.

Lan Wangji looks at him now with sadness—fear—in his eyes. A distance, like he’s remembering. “Your shijie is dead,” he tells Wei Wuxian.

But that can’t—Wei Wuxian remembers seeing her in her wedding robes, her and Jiang Cheng and him laughing over their bowls of pork and lotus soup. It’s the clearest memory he has, the last one he had before he ended up here. Or rather, the last one his mind wanted to give him before regressing his memory back two decades.

It feels—it can’t be real. Even when he defected, he’d always known that shijie would be there for him, smiling, holding his hand, stroking his hair away from his face.

He feels numb when he asks, “How?”

“The four main clans gathered at Nightless City,” Lan Wangji says. “You had come to confront them prior to the slaughter at… the Burial Mounds, and so they fought you.”

Wei Wuxian can’t feel anything, can hardly—his brain feels tired, and overwhelmed, though he just woke up. But he asked for this. He wants to know. He needs to know just how much blood there is on his hands. He feels the weight heavy in his chest, the hotness in his eyes; but most of all, the self-hatred raging in his brain, reminding him that this is his fault. It doesn’t feel like he has amnesia, that he woke up in a world where he’s suddenly a cut-sleeve and happy. It feels like he disappeared for fourteen years and left everyone to fend for themselves.

He couldn’t do everything. He shouldn’t have tried to do everything. He can’t—

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji’s voice is quiet.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Go on,” he says.

Lan Wangji is silent for a moment. Then, he says, “You fought with your fierce corpses. And then Jiang-guniang came out to the battlefield to stop you.”

Wei Wuxian can almost see it in his mind’s eye.

“There was a fierce corpse whose sword caught on her. I tried to tell you to stop them, but because she was injured…” Lan Wangji’s voice falters. “But you stopped the fierce corpses eventually. You were trying to save her. You had turned away from everyone else and, in a moment of weakness, there was a cultivator who tried to attack you.

“But Jiang-guniang pushed you away.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember it. He can’t remember it, can’t see his shijie bleeding in his arms, and that’s the worst part. He can’t remember the last breath she took as she pushed him out of the way with all her might, can’t remember the chilling confusion as the cultivator’s sword sunk into her.

All he has right now are Lan Wangji’s words and a cold emptiness inside of him.

“How long ago was this?” he asks, finally. The room is dimmer; the clouds have taken their momentary wash over the sun, as if in mourning with him. “How long after did I die?”

“Not long. You… I…” Lan Wangji hesitates. “You died shortly after.”

Wei Wuxian takes a breath. What a waste—of his own oxygen, his own life, when shijie is gone. All for nothing. She saved him and it was for nothing.

“I got her killed,” he says.

“No,” Lan Wangji says, almost immediately after. “She sacrificed herself for you.”

But he’s wrong. What good is a sacrifice if it means nothing? How many more breaths did he take, minutes did he live, in exchange for her life? He didn’t ask for this. He wouldn’t have, for her. And he has a second life now—where is hers, then? Where is the happy, long life she deserves?

“Yet I’m the one who was given a second chance,” he whispers. “And for what? So many people have died thanks to me. And shijie never harmed anyone in her life. She’s a better person than me.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again.

Wei Wuxian stands up. Everything is foreign to his eyes, his senses—the low light of the room, the serenity in the air, the small birds singing outside under the sunshine.

“Please excuse me, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, and treads outside, barefoot, trying to care, trying to remember.

Time is a tricky thing. He can have a routine and go about his days with hardly a care in a world; and yet, there are other days where he knows nothing but grief and anger and death. There is a lot he doesn’t know now, doesn’t want to know. How many people have died because of him? How many families has he ruined, tears caused, hearts broken? It is easy when there’s grudge and resentment in his belly, keeping him on the side of justice, on the side of good—but there are his own faults, the things that make him human.

Outside is bright and misty, as it always is for the Cloud Recesses. It never fails to give one the feeling that they are in heaven. Wei Wuxian remembers when he was fifteen, here for the first time, hellbent on learning the ins and outs of Lan Wangji’s mind. That had felt real, when he could be a nuisance, when he could put in the slightest amount of energy from his golden core and see his results in sword fighting or magic, the joy that that gave him. But he is older now—both in memory, and in this body. There are no more days of eagerly planning how he and Jiang Cheng can run the Lotus Pier together, how he can sneak a cooked pheasant into the Cloud Recesses. The lunar cycle does not stop; the sun continues to set.

Yet somehow, he is alive. Moreover, he—this Wei Wuxian is living his days with Lan Wangji. With these kids; with whatever Wen Ning’s doing; experimenting with talismans. He probably doesn’t give a second thought to his shijie’s death anymore. With his wet cheeks and heavy heart, he clenches his fist, watching the red of his fingers and white of his knuckles, the deep crescent moon dents on his palms like he’s a moment away from bleeding, from breaking. Who does this Wei Wuxian think he is? Continuing his life like this, like he deserves each breath that escapes from his lips.

But what else is he supposed to do?

He does not know if he ever allowed himself the time to grieve. He does not know the memories of this life, this body. He does not know what he’s supposed to know, but he knows what he wants to do now.

He brings himself up and steps back inside the Jingshi.

Lan Wangji’s gaze is already on the doorway as he steps in, as if he has not looked away since Wei Wuxian went outside. He is worried: Wei Wuxian can see it plainly. Being able to recognize Lan Wangji’s facial expressions grounds him, a bit.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m okay.”

Lan Wangji’s lips purse, as though he doesn’t quite believe that.

“Really, I am. I just had to…” Wei Wuxian wipes at his eyes, his drenched nose. “But I’ve decided that I want to visit the Lotus Pier today.”

“Are you sure?” Lan Wangji asks, voice careful. Neutral.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says. “I need to… I want to pay respects to my shijie. I’ve done that before, right?”

Lan Wangji nods.

“Then it’ll be no problem. I can do it again.”

Wei Wuxian’s chest feels a little lighter in knowing that he did not take this life for granted. That he’d never take his shijie for granted.

He turns away, back to the door, thinking whose horse he’ll have to nick or who he’ll have to bribe, when he hears rustling behind him.

“I’m coming with you,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian spins back around. “You can’t do that!” he says, voice clearing up the more he speaks. “You’re Hanguang-jun, you’ve gotta stay here and, you know—” he gestures at Lan Wangji. “Han all your guang.”

Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. “I can do that while traveling to the Lotus Pier with you,” he says. “I am used to traveling instead of staying inside all the time.”

“Wherever the chaos goes,” Wei Wuxian says thoughtfully.

Lan Wangji stops suddenly. “What did you say?”

“That you go where the chaos goes,” Wei Wuxian says. He shrugs. “You know, if you’re traveling as Hanguang-jun, you’re bringing justice everywhere. You gotta go where the chaos goes.”

Lan Wangji’s expression this time is unreadable. He searches Wei Wuxian’s eyes, his expression, but Wei Wuxian does nothing except sniff again. It’s kind of embarrassing to have someone know you were crying, but he doesn’t really mind it if Lan Wangji knows.

“We will leave for Yunmeng after lunch,” is all Lan Wangji says.

They pack. Well, Lan Wangji packs, since traveling to Yunmeng will take at least a quarter of a day, so they’ll likely have to stay overnight. Their lunch comes while Lan Wangji is getting their arrangements ready, so Wei Wuxian eats and tries to make himself useful. Lan Wangji insists that his assistance is not necessary, but Wei Wuxian insists.

Lan Wangji informs him that these days, Wei Wuxian usually likes to travel by a donkey named Xiao Pingguo, which Wei Wuxian snorts at. What kind of life does this Wei Wuxian now live if he tends to travel by donkey? Luckily, the Cloud Recesses has its own stables, so on two white stallions that are probably more suited to war, they take their leave shortly after lunch time.

The sun still glows happily in the sky by the time they reach the outskirts of Yunmeng Jiang, stabling their horses before making their way into town on foot. It’s just as Wei Wuxian remembers, perhaps even better—fishermen on the docks, kids running up and down the piers, the bustling of food stalls and sprouting lotus flowers that make it hard to tell where the water ends and the land begins. Wei Wuxian feels a rush of nostalgia. He had planned for him and Lan Wangji to sneak in to pay respects to his shijie, but perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea if—

A loud barking stirs him out of his thoughts.

“Dog!” Wei Wuxian shrieks, and flails. He tries to find the source of the noise—but there’s so many people, merchants with carts wheeling past, that it’s hard to tell where the dog is.

“Lan Zhan!” he cries, gripping onto Lan Wangji’s shoulders to hide behind him.

Lan Wangji does not flinch at the touch. He even holds steady, like this is something like he does often, which makes Wei Wuxian wonder truly how much dignity he’s lost in this life. Not like he can protest right now—what’s important, right now, is that Lan Wangji shields him from the dog. Even if there’s a small Yiling Laozu in his head berating him for being so shameless.

“Where is it?” he whimpers, still glancing around. “The dog, it’s gotta be here somewhere, make it go away—”

“Hanguang-jun!” calls a voice.

Bounding down the street is a medium-sized dog, pointy ears and a frightening, dangling tongue. It seems eager at the sight of them, but comes to a halt when Lan Wangji says, “Stop.”

It’s not even a spell—the dog just obeys him.

Running behind him is a kid—why are there so many kids in Lan Zhan’s life?—decked in golden robes, a vermillion mark on his forehead. “Wei-qianbei!” he shouts when he sees Wei Wuxian behind Lan Wangji.

And apparently the kid knows him, too. This is unexpected, although Lan Wangji peers over at Wei Wuxian, mouth a thin line.

“Jin Ling,” he says to Wei Wuxian. “Courtesy name Rulan.”

Oh.

Jin Ling beckons his dog back, and the dog scurries behind him, terrorizing the laughing merchants along the streets now.

Breathless, Jin Ling comes up to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “What are you doing in Yunmeng?” he asks, an air of impatience in his voice. “You could’ve given a warning!”

“It was an inspired decision,” Lan Wangji deadpans.

Wei Wuxian straightens up from where he’s crouched behind Lan Wangji. He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, we just thought, might as well visit today,” he says. How is he—how does he talk to his nephew? He can almost see his shijie’s curiosity in the boy’s dark eyes. “Uh, haha, how are you, Jin Ling?”

“I’m fine, though being a sect leader is so boring. I need to go on another night hunt before I lose my mind.” Jin Ling rolls his eyes. There’s that bit of Jin Zixuan too.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t asked Lan Wangji about his shijie’s husband, but something tells him that Jin Zixuan might not be around, since Jin Ling is in Yunmeng of all places.

Lan Wangji tells Jin Ling, “Jingyi and Sizhui shall be available tomorrow evening, if you wish to invite them on a night hunt.”

Jin Ling brightens, then immediately tamps it down like he’s hiding it. “That’s convenient,” he says, trying to make it sound like a grumble. “But what are you doing in Yunmeng? Jiujiu’s not gonna be happy, especially with the two of you together—not like he’d be surprised.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”

Especially with the two of them together? What does that even mean? Does Jin Ling—this teenager, this kid—know that they’re husbands? Even though they’re not holding hands and Lan Wangji hasn’t kissed him or held him once? And why did he ask about telling—

“There is no need,” Lan Wangji says. “Thank you for greeting us. I will be sure to pass on the message about the night hunt to Sizhui and Jingyi as well.”

“Fine,” Jin Ling grunts. But he seems to remember his manners, and bows to the both of them. “I’m gonna leave before jiujiu sees and thinks I knew you guys were coming and just didn’t tell him. Come on, Fairy!”

The dog perks up and runs to join Jin Ling. When Wei Wuxian cowers in fear, Jin Ling laughs meanly, but he’s a kid, so Wei Wuxian can kind of let it go. Well, not because he’s a kid, but because he’s his shijie’s kid.

“See you too, Wei-qianbei,” Jin Ling says, looking smug before running off.

Wei Wuxian scrunches his nose at his back. “Qianbei this, qianbei that,” he says. “And who names his dog Fairy? That creature’s a little monster.”

“You said that the first time you met her,” Lan Wangji says with amusement.

“I’ll bet,” Wei Wuxian grumbles.

But Jin Ling alone, somewhat carefree—but alone makes his heart pang. The vermillion mark and the golden robes… he thinks of an encounter he had a lifetime ago, the fury for his shijie’s honor, for her happiness against a man who he thought would never love her.

“Who raised Jin Ling?” he asks Lan Wangji, when they’re alone and resuming their route to the Lotus Pier.

“Jiang Wanyin and Jin Guangyao,” Lan Wangji replies. “I do believe they had an understanding between the seasons.”

“That makes sense,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding. Then he snickers. “But Jiang Cheng raising a kid… I’d love to see that! I bet Lianfang-zun was a better influence on him than Jiang Cheng is.”

Something hard and angry passes over Lan Wangji’s face. “No.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian tilts his head.

But Lan Wangji shakes the expression off his face. Neutral and calm as ever, he presses forward. “Come,” he says. “Let us pay respects to your shijie.”

They make their way into the Lotus Pier, where the disciples greet them in surprise but don’t stop them. Perhaps they’re too intimidated to ask if they came with an invitation, especially since they’re Hanguang-jun and the Yiling Laozu. Or Hanguang-jun and the sect leader’s shixiong; it doesn’t seem like the Yiling Laozu reputation means much these days. Or maybe it’s just this body.

Lan Wangji leads them to the Memoriam Pavilion. This Wei Wuxian does remember, mourning Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen, an ache in his throat. It feels longer than a lifetime ago, the burning of the Lotus Pier. Now, his shijie’s remains are set alongside her parents. He swallows at the engraving of her name, as new as it must have been the day her tomb was erected. No wear, no sign of the passing of the ages.

“Shijie,” he whispers, to himself.

He and Lan Wangji kowtow. Lan Wangji does not comment on the wetness of his face as they light the incense, Wei Wuxian searching his memory for the last time he saw her, in her wedding robes. He no longer needs to push back the emotions in his chest with the freedom he now has.

Her death—the bloodbath of Nightless City—feels more tangible. Not all of it, but flashes: he and Lan Wangji on the rooftops, an arrow clenched in his hand, yelling about good and bad and right and wrong. Things that Lan Wangji hadn’t even mentioned to him. He doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t even know if it’s real. He breathes and shakes his head. Perhaps his mind is making it up.

“I can’t believe it,” he says, when step out. Inside the pavilion, the incense burns away. “I guess this is real. I do have amnesia. And shijie is dead.”

Lan Wangji says nothing, though he wraps a comforting hand around Wei Wuxian’s upper arm.

Is this what cut-sleeves do? It’s the most affection Lan Wangji’s shown him since Wei Wuxian woke up with his shitty memory on his first day, but it does make Wei Wuxian feel a bit better. Grounded and warm, knowing that Lan Wangji is here; he must be a devoted husband to come with Wei Wuxian to Yunmeng like this, even if he thinks Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember that they’re husbands. Wei Wuxian is almost envious of his cut-sleeve self.

He can hear the Yunmeng cultivators in the Lotus Pier training grounds. He’ll have to talk to Jiang Cheng about security if they can waltz in so easily, although—

“Hey, why did Jin Ling ask if he should tell Jiang Cheng that we’re here?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Like, do I do surprise visits now? Is that something we do?”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth.

Then a rude voice goes, “Apparently you do.”

Stepping out from around the pavilion is his shidi. Jiang Cheng looks good, and the way he looks older makes Wei Wuxian feel even more out of his body. It was easier to see Jin Ling as a full adult because Wei Wuxian had never seen him as a child. But seeing Jiang Cheng now—not as a teenager learning to deal with the death of his parents and running a sect, not as a young adult torn between the cultivation world and his shixiong, but as he is now—Wei Wuxian is taken aback. There’s the sharpness of Yu-furen around his eyes, the honesty of Jiang-shushu around his jaw. Yet just seeing him brings back Wei Wuxian’s memories of them play fighting in the water and sneaking in liquor and learning to ride swords, that it makes Wei Wuxian realize how long it’s been since this memory, his Yiling Laozu self, has seen Jiang Cheng, too.

His heart is in his throat, but it’s no matter as Jiang Cheng continues: “Of course you and Hanguang-jun would be here without even a day of warning.”

“We just decided to visit today!” Wei Wuxian says happily. No amount of Jiang Cheng’s sneers will bring him down—and besides, it’s true. “How are you, Jiang Cheng? I swear you’ve got crow’s feet now. Are the matchmakers aging you?”

“Don’t joke about that,” Jiang Cheng says, though he softens a little.

“I’m not joking! Here you are without a woman or a child.” Wei Wuxian tsks disapprovingly. “Do you plan on leading Yunmeng Jiang forever? Are you going to try to cultivate to immortality?”

“That’s funny,” Jiang Cheng grumbles without a trace of humor in his voice.

Wei Wuxian beams and hugs him. Jiang Cheng puts up a perfunctory fight, but doesn’t quite shake him off. Wei Wuxian missed this when he was the Yiling Laozu. He could never do stuff like this with the eyes of the cultivation world on the newly betrayed Yunmeng Jiang sect leader and the immoral Yiling Laozu. But maybe there’s something good about his old life’s death—Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem to hate his guts anymore. Well, not as much as he used to.

“So were you here just for jie?” Jiang Cheng says, jerking his head in the direction of the Memoriam Pavilion. “Or was there something else you wanted?”

“Wow, Jiang Cheng…” Wei Wuxian says, though by the way that Lan Wangji is eyeing him carefully, he realizes that the more carefree he is, the more obvious it’ll be that there’s something wrong with him. He sobers up quickly. “Ah, I mean, there’s nothing else. I was just feeling remorse, as I always do.”

He checks with Lan Wangji if that’s okay. Lan Wangji doesn’t visibly react, though there’s quiet amusement in his eyes.

Jiang Cheng snorts. “As you always do,” he says. “Well, if that was all, then you can go on then.”

“Ah, yeah.” Wei Wuxian scratches the back of his head.

There’s something slightly off in the air, like there’s something that he—or rather, that Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are avoiding talking about. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to make of it. He remembers what he said earlier, about cultivating to immortality, and realization sinks in. Does Jiang Cheng know about his golden core, somehow? That Wei Wuxian gave him his? That would make sense, he could easily bring it up without outright asking or giving himself away.

But he’s not sure if he wants to know. In fact, he knows that he doesn’t want to know. When it had been done, he was content with living the rest of his life keeping it a secret from his shidi. As long as the Lotus Pier thrived under his rule, it wouldn’t matter.

“I guess we’ll go then,” Wei Wuxian says, plastering a smile on his face. “We saw Jin Ling run out earlier, if you were looking for him.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “That little brat. He’s probably going to try to hunt down gui on his own again without telling me.”

But Wei Wuxian knows him, knows the fondness in his voice, the love he gives.

As they walk back towards the entrance of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng regards him gruffly. Then he punches him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Wei Wuxian exclaims.

Jiang Cheng says, “You don’t have to make surprise visits, you know. Or you can, whatever.” He sounds like he’s trying hard to seem indifferent. “For shijie or Jin Ling or—whatever you want. But there’s nothing stopping you from visiting Yunmeng more often.”

He doesn’t meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he says this, but for the first time all day, Wei Wuxian feels something light rise in his chest. “Aww, didi, are you saying you miss me?”

“Of course not!” Jiang Cheng says immediately. “Who the fuck would miss you?”

But he’s still not meeting Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

Wei Wuxian grins at him. “I’ll be sure to visit for whatever reasons then,” he says, as they depart. “And I’m going to bring Lan Zhan, too.”

“Fine!” Jiang Cheng huffs, but Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure he sounds pleased.

He and Lan Wangji wander around town, Wei Wuxian frequently getting distracted at the outdoor market and food stalls, offering different dishes for Lan Wangji to try. Lan Wangji does so without complaint, although more than once Wei Wuxian catches a pinched look on his face at a particularly spicy sample.

By the time they find an inn to rest at, the horizon has become vermillion and violet, the promise of a starry sky shining through. They order their food first, though before Wei Wuxian can open his mouth, Lan Wangji rattles off all of Wei Wuxian’s favorite foods to be sent to their room. The innkeeper bows and says that they’ll only serve the best food for Hanguang-jun.

Wow, he really is an attentive husband, Wei Wuxian thinks they get settled into a room. Their room has two beds, which must mean that most of the world must not know of their relationship. It’s perfectly understandable. Being a cut-sleeve won’t get you killed, but might taint other people’s image of you, even if you’re as reputable as Hanguang-jun.

However, Lan Wangji shows him no further affection than earlier this afternoon at shijie’s grave. They eat and Wei Wuxian watches the small bites he takes, wondering if perhaps Lan Wangji misses them as they were together. Wei Wuxian’s sure that if it were he in Lan Wangji’s position, he’d be missing that intimacy with a partner, with a spouse after a day. And Lan Wangji is not like most people, but he did come all this way to Yunmeng with him and pay for the food and board. Wei Wuxian owes him something.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he says over dinner.

Lan Wangji looks at him.

Wei Wuxian thinks—but then he notices the food they’ve ordered, the spicy food that he and Lan Wangji are sharing. Lan Wangji hadn’t even ordered any bland foods for himself!

“Why are you eating my spicy food with me?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I saw the way you choked when we were trying the street food!”

To his fascination, Lan Wangji coughs. And his ears turn red.

“It is no matter,” Lan Wangji replies.

“But it is!” Wei Wuxian insists. “You have delicate sensibilities! Let’s get the innkeeper back up here, get you some boring, tasteless food—”

Lan Wangji pointedly takes a pepper off one of their dishes and places it in his mouth. The color is high on his cheekbones.

“I like what Wei Ying likes,” he says.

Wei Wuxian feels his chest flutter at that. He’s not a cut-sleeve, but Lan Wangji is surely too much. “Lan Zhan!” he whines, but Lan Wangji ignores him and continues eating.

And then there’s the matter of sleeping. As they get ready for bed on opposite sides of the room, Wei Wuxian glances to the other side and wonders again.

He said that I like to sleep with him… but I didn’t sleep with him yesterday. I know he hasn’t said anything about us being together, but I don’t want to worry him. Perhaps tonight…

He looks at the bed they had designated for Lan Wangji.

Perhaps tonight I will get in bed with him just so he doesn’t think I’m mad at him or avoiding him. If I were him, I’d surely miss sleeping with my wife. Or husband. And anyway, even if I do, it’s not like that means I’m a cut-sleeve now. This body might miss sleeping with its husband, but I’m sure not!

He nods to himself. Lan Wangji must be nice to sleep with, anyway. His body is so large that it must be easy to lose himself in his limbs. Not, of course, that Wei Wuxian is thinking about that. Just hypothetically. Tonight, he will offer his presence to Lan Wangji, nothing else.

When they put out the light, Lan Wangji goes to his bed. Wei Wuxian glances one more time at his own before padding over.

“Scoot over, Lan Zhan,” he says in the dark.

Faintly, he can make out the shadows of Lan Wangji’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Sleeping with you!”

Lan Wangji doesn’t say or do anything for a moment. Then Wei Wuxian hears him shifting on the bed, sees that he’s made room.

Wei Wuxian climbs in with him, crawling under the covers. Lan Wangji is really big, he kind of overestimated how much room there would be. But still, this is his husband! Well, this body’s husband. In the space available, he lies down so they’re side by side.

It’s… weird. And awkward. Is this how cut-sleeves sleep together? Surely not.

“How do we do this?” he asks Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji exhales. Then: “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“You said that I like to sleep with you,” Wei Wuxian says pointedly. “How do we usually sleep together?”

“Once,” Lan Wangji says, “you slept on my chest.”

On his chest? What? He’s certainly big enough but… what?

But that seems to be the only viable option, especially considering the size of the bed. “Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, bracing himself. “Then let’s do that!”

He sits up and—doesn’t know what to do. Is he supposed to just plop himself on top of Lan Wangji’s body?

But apparently it doesn’t matter, as Lan Wangji grabs him by the waist and hauls Wei Wuxian’s now-smaller body on top of his. Wei Wuxian squeaks as his face meets the warmth of Lan Wangji’s chest, of his underrobe.

“Like this,” Lan Wangji tells him.

Like this?

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, though it’s—weird.

Lan Wangji feels so big and he feels so small. Not that he should! He’s a man, and yet this body is so much smaller than the other one. Not as small as a teenager’s, perhaps, but still weird and different!

I don’t like this! he tells himself, as he feels his eyelids grow heavy at the warmth surrounding him. Lan Zhan doesn’t tell lies, but why would I do this? Is the future really this different? But I have to do this, for us, for Lan Zhan, for future me. I have to…

He drifts off to sleep within minutes.

There’s nothing wrong with being a cut-sleeve. Well, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion. He’s sure that plenty of the cultivation world would disagree with him. But it had always been a distant amorphous thing, never really applied to him, one of those things he knew existed but would never have to worry about, like boring food and the Cloud Recesses’ 4000-rule wall.

How times have changed.

When he wakes up the next morning, his body is disappointed by the coolness of the bed under him, as though waking up with Lan Wangji would be nice. His body—not him. Mostly.

He yawns, sighs, and sits up. And the disappointment doesn’t last long anyway, because the door opens in the next second. Lan Wangji strides in, balancing a breakfast tray on one hand.

Well if I have a husband, at least he’s strong, Wei Wuxian thinks, as he grins at Lan Wangji. This is willful—all him now.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” he says, and stretches. “I slept so well, how about you?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji sets the food down at the table in the middle of the room.

Wei Wuxian clambers off the bed eagerly. “You really went all out,” he says—congee as usual, with his hot sauce, but accompanied by meat and vegetable dishes for breakfast. “Yunmeng classics!”

Lan Wangji nods and sits with him.

No, Wei Wuxian thinks gleefully, as he digs into his food. I can’t complain about Lan Zhan being my husband at all.

Perhaps his future self has some taste. Who would make a better partner than Hanguang-jun? Absolutely no one! And Wei Wuxian vaguely remembers some dreams he had when he was young—a teenager, eager to get Lan Wangji’s attention. He and Lan Wangji lived on a field together, and Wei Wuxian would hunt and gather food while Lan Wangji would cook and clean and read poetry. He hadn’t thought of the dream in romantic terms, but perhaps…

Perhaps thinking of myself as a cut-sleeve isn’t so strange after all, he considers mildly, while watching Lan Wangji take small bites of donggua.

After breakfast, Lan Wangji asks, “What do you wish to do today?”

“Hm!” Wei Wuxian crawls across the floor and leans against Lan Wangji’s side. Might as well get used to it. Plus, the bulk of Lan Wangji’s body is quite comfortable. “I dunno, Lan Zhan. Is there anything you want to do?”

Lan Wangji looks into his eyes. “How is your memory?”

He searches his mind—there’s still a lot of empty space, hints of things like breezes of color and maybe a familiar sound. But being back in Yunmeng makes him mostly think of his childhood, what used to be home.

“A bit better, I think,” Wei Wuxian admits. “But there’s still a lot missing. I think when we talk about stuff, or I run into stuff, or my mind just wanders I can… maybe find bits and pieces of things that might be real. But I’m not sure.”

Lan Wangji nods. “It has not been long,” he says. “Would you like me to play Cleansing?”

Wei Wuxian brightens up. “Sure!”

Lan Wangji gets their dishes put away, then brings out his guqin. In the middle of their inn room, he sets it on the low table and begins to play.

And this Wei Wuxian knows, too—chord assassination on the battlefield, songs of healing and clarity behind closed doors, the insistence at cleaning out Wei Wuxian’s golden core, or what was left of it, anyway. He doesn’t know if Cleansing is helping him much, but Lan Wangji’s long delicate fingers are talented. Mesmerizing.

Wei Wuxian nestles up to his side and places his chin on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, like a good husband. Lan Wangji’s playing falters.

“You don’t have to stop,” Wei Wuxian encourages.

Lan Wangji continues. His fingers run over the guqin strings, and Wei Wuxian watches. He wonders if Lan Wangji is a good lover. He must be tender. Wei Wuxian’s body hasn’t felt sore or ached anywhere, especially not his dick, so they must not do it much. That’s a pity because Wei Wuxian imagined that when he had a wife—or a husband now, in this case—he might want to do it every day. Maybe he pleasures himself more? He’ll have to learn and find out.

When Lan Wangji is done, Wei Wuxian beams and hugs him. “Thank you, Lan Zhan! You’re so good.” He kisses Lan Wangji’s cheek—that’s what husbands do too, right?

Lan Wangji does not move. “What else do you wish to do today?” he asks stiffly.

“Hmm.” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I guess we can go home. The Cloud Recesses is home for both of us, right?” Lan Wangji nods. “Then back to Gusu it is.”

“If you think that traveling to other places may help your memory…” Lan Wangji offers.

Wei Wuxian thinks, then shakes his head. “I don’t know where else we could go, except for the Burial Mounds or Nightless City, and that’ll be way too depressing,” he says. “And I’m not too concerned about that. As long as I have Lan Zhan, I’ll be okay.”

He’s not just saying that. He does feel that if he sticks with Lan Wangji, he’ll eventually have the answers to everything. Lan Wangji pays attention to him, takes care of him, probably more than he deserves. And in this life now, Wei Wuxian might have nothing if it weren’t for him.

Lan Wangji waits for a moment, then nods. “If we would like to reach the Cloud Recesses before dinner time, we should leave now.”

So they do, Lan Wangji paying for the room downstairs and leaving a generous tip, when Wei Wuxian nicks his money bag and lays another stone of silver on the counter. They stop in the markets to get some food for the journey back, arrive at the stables outside of town, and make their way back to Gusu.

Wei Wuxian glances at Lan Wangji on his horse. When Lan Wangji catches his eye, Wei Wuxian beams at him.

Lan Wangji smiles back.

Really a handsome husband, Wei Wuxian thinks to himself, no longer weirded out—and in fact, welcoming the idea of being a cut-sleeve. Truly the best.

Still, there’s the matter of… further intimacy. Wei Wuxian can do hand-holding, which he does when they arrive back at the Cloud Recesses and have deposited their horses; and casual touches, as he deliberates the expanse of Lan Wangji’s body and how much there is to touch. And maybe even some kissing and casual groping, if need be.

But lovemaking? His first body had never experienced such things… how does this body handle it? Will it come to him naturally? Will he even do it? Does Lan Wangji expect him to?

Probably not, Wei Ying thinks, swinging their hands together. Lan Wangji keeps staring at their threaded fingers like he’s stunned by the sight. With the way he’s been acting lately. But surely even if Lan Zhan doesn’t need to do it as much as I do, he’ll still probably want to do it soon.

No. I’ll just have to tell him no, he thinks firmly. But… maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe it’ll be good. He remembers the erotic art Nie Huaisang had shown him when they were younger, the positions they were in. Does that mean I’ll have to be on the bottom? Lan Zhan surely looks like he’ll be on top…

Before he can parse the idea and how he feels about it, a Lan kid comes up to them as they’re strolling along the path to the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian recognizes him: he’s the other kid who’s been with Wen Ning, the less annoying one.

“Hanguang-jun,” he says with a polite smile and a bow. “Wei-qianbei. How was Yunmeng?”

“How did you know we went to Yunmeng?” Wei Wuxian asks suspiciously.

The kid is undeterred by this. He glances at their entwined hands and back, like it’s nothing to him. “Hanguang-jun told me, of course,” he says. “Well, he left me a note.”

“Why?” Wei Wuxian demands. “Who are you?”

The kid blinks. He looks to Lan Wangji.

“Hanguang-jun?”

Lan Wangji looks pained, a small tightness around his mouth, reluctance in his eyes. But he speaks:

“Due to an accident, Wei Ying has temporarily lost parts of his memories,” he tells the kid. “His consciousness is attuned to his memory of about fourteen years ago. He should recollect all his memories eventually. It is not permanent.”

The kid says, “Oh!” Then he beams. “Wei-qianbei—Xian-gege. It’s me, A-Yuan!”

Wei Wuxian’s brain stops. Two days with amnesia and he thought nothing would take him by surprise anymore—and now this kid is telling him—

“A-Yuan?” he says. “Wen Yuan?”

The kid—A-Yuan??—nods. “Now Lan Yuan,” he says. “But we went through this before. I remember having a gege, when I was little, who would bury me with the turnips.” He glances at Lan Wangji. “And another gege who would visit and pay for meals.”

“Sizhui,” Lan Wangji gently admonishes.

Wei Wuxian can’t wrap his head around this—except he can. If there’s anything that’s stark clear in his mind, it’s Wen Yuan’s little giggle, round cheeks, and smiling eyes that he sees in this kid now.

“A-Yuan, it is you!” he exclaims. “And you’re all grown up, practically an adult. Sizhui—your courtesy name?” Both he and Lan Wangji nod. “It’s a good one.”

“Thank you.” Sizhui bows, pleased. “I became Lan Yuan when Hanguang-jun found me in the Burial Mounds. I was extremely sick, but he took care of me and raised me.”

“He adopted you,” Wei Wuxian says thoughtfully.

He never thought of Lan Wangji as a family man. But he should’ve known better, since he’d taken those rabbits Wei Wuxian first threatened to eat. And now a kid! The kid that Lan Wangji met only briefly when he was visiting Wei Wuxian in Yiling. Wei Wuxian had thought they’d seemed fond of each other—or rather, that Wen Yuan had been fond of Lan Wangji. But for him to take Wen Yuan and raise him as his own…

“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian says, “are you my and Lan Zhan’s son?”

Sizhui glances at Lan Wangji.

His father, Wei Wuxian thinks giddily. His father! Lan Wangji’s a father.

“What?” Sizhui says.

“I mean,” Wei Wuxian says. Lan Wangji’s ears are bright red. “Since I raised you for a bit, then Lan Zhan raised you for—what, fifteen years? You’re like our son!”

Lan Wangji still says nothing. He doesn’t even remove his hand from Wei Wuxian’s.

Sizhui lets out a small laugh. “If you say so, Wei-qianbei,” he says. “I certainly don’t mind if you say such things.”

He looks at Lan Wangji pointedly, and Lan Wangji meets his gaze. Sizhui simply keeps smiling.

“Excellent,” Wei Wuxian says happily. “Although I don’t know about this qianbei stuff, I’m sure I taught you a lot of demonic cultivation secrets, so I won’t complain about it. Come eat dinner with us tonight, er-zi.”

“Okay,” Sizhui says.

“So we can be a happy family,” Wei Wuxian continues. “A good family should eat dinner together, don’t you think?”

“I do agree,” Sizhui says, and chances another glance at Lan Wangji. “We don’t do it much because you and Hanguang-jun are often busy, but I’d be happy to join you tonight.”

Often busy… often busy what? Often lovemaking? Wei Wuxian thinks to himself with amusement. Lan Wangji may be a family man, but maybe this Wei Wuxian isn’t.

Out loud, he says, “What a good kid. Lan Zhan, you raised him well.”

Their hands are still together, but Lan Wangji’s grip has tightened. It would be bothersome, if not that his skin is cool to the touch, with the faint scent of sandalwood.

Lan Wangji clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says.

“A family dinner tonight,” Wei Wuxian announces, and Lan Wangji’s ears turn redder as Sizhui beams.

This life might not be so terrible after all. It’s still a life without shijie, but also one with Wen Yuan, Lan Yuan, Sizhui. And Jiang Cheng, with the promise of Lotus Pier. And Lan Wangji.

They talk some about the past, what both Wei Wuxian and Sizhui remember from their time at the Burial Mounds, what it was like when Wei Wuxian first came back to life, in this body. And then the present, what Sizhui is learning from laotou Lan Qiren and the Gusu Lan teachings. It feels as weird as ever to see him all grown up now, but good to know that something from his past has not only stayed safe, but also flourished. Sizhui divulges how Lan Wangji raised him, despite Lan Wangji’s pink ears: spoiling him at every turn, burying him in bunnies, and raising him to be the modest young man he is now.

Even though Wei Wuxian wasn’t part of this child-rearing process, he still can’t help but feel proud. He and Lan Wangji—but, of course, mostly Lan Wangji—did good.

(He thinks absently of what it would be like to raise a child with him this time, and the thought feels familiar. Like a memory. He files that away for later.)

Prior to dinner, Lan Wangji had also informed him of the other things in between, what had happened with everyone else: Jin Zixuan’s death, along with his cousin’s and his father’s; whatever happened with Jin Guangyao when Wei Wuxian came back, which he still doesn’t fully understand; the late Nie sect leader’s death, and how Nie Huaisang has a reputation of yi wen sanbuzhi now, though there was a twist of irony in Lan Wangji’s expression. And how Wei Wuxian came back to life.

It explains his body, formerly belonging to a man named Mo Xuanyu, who had used one of Wei Wuxian’s own sacrificing arrays to allow him to possess this body. It does make Wei Wuxian feel bad, although when Lan Wangji told him, a familiar feeling crept up the back of his mind. Waking up, confused at this new body, you’ve got the wrong person… The memory isn’t all back, though now he can’t help but be grateful to the man that was once Mo Xuanyu, for allowing him to live this life, to have this dinner with his new family.

None of this, what Lan Wangji has told him, would be easy to live through. And yet, the both of them managed. Or rather, Wei Wuxian managed with Lan Wangji’s support. There’s no doubt that Lan Wangji would make the ideal husband, but as he passes a jar of Emperor’s Smile over to him while they’re in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian is again struck by how lucky he’s been. How lucky he is. Lan Wangji’s support is so unending that it makes Wei Wuxian feel a little overwhelmed for a second—or maybe that’s the alcohol. But he really is the best person Wei Wuxian’s ever known and the perfect father too, gently smiling at Sizhui over their rice. Sizhui’s kindness fills the room, something that could only be taught by an accommodating and attentive father.

He holds off on the affection in front of Sizhui—in front of their son, as no son probably wants to see his parents be so obviously in love. But afterwards, as he and Lan Wangji get ready for bed, Wei Wuxian says, “Can you run me a bath?”

Lan Wangji pauses, then nods. Several minutes later, he comes back to the Jingshi with a washtub filled with heated water, carrying it effortlessly with both hands.

“Lan Zhan! You’re so strong,” Wei Wuxian giggles and touches Lan Wangji’s arms.

Lan Wangji doesn’t flinch, though perhaps it’s from the effort he’s putting in carrying the tub. He brings it to the washroom and sets it down.

He begins to leave, but Wei Wuxian wants him to know that he’s okay with this! He’s okay with them being cut-sleeves and Lan Wangji being his husband, even though he hasn’t actually said so. “You can stay,” he tells Lan Wangji, who freezes in the doorway. Wei Wuxian begins stripping. “Actually, if you want, you can help me bathe!”

Lan Wangji stays with his back turned. When Wei Wuxian plops into the bathtub, he turns around.

“How would you like my assistance?” he asks.

“Hm.” Wei Wuxian splashes some water onto his face. “Rub me down? Or at least my hair, I’m usually too lazy to.”

Lan Wangji stiffly comes over to the bathtub and kneels. Picking up the scrub and soap, he begins rubbing over Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian sighs and leans his head back. Lan Wangji’s method is firm but tender, making Wei Wuxian truly feel like a lover being cared for. He even gets Wei Wuxian’s neck and shoulders too, close enough that Wei Wuxian can smell his faint sandalwood scent. Wei Wuxian shivers, feels his cock twitch, but the concept of sex feels daunting after a long day like today. He hopes Lan Wangji doesn’t expect him to put out. At least tonight.

When he’s done, and when Wei Wuxian feels truly and thoroughly cleaned, Wei Wuxian lets out a satisfied sigh. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re the best,” he says, as Lan Wangji gets up.

Wei Wuxian turns around to perhaps give Lan Wangji a kiss on the cheek as a reward. But Lan Wangji quickly leaves the room.

Wei Wuxian frowns, then shrugs and dunks his whole self into the water, before coming back up and ending his bath. He dries himself off, figuring that Lan Wangji will probably do something about the bathtub tomorrow morning. Lan Wangji had also brought his under- and sleep robes, so Wei Wuxian changes into them, feeling new and refreshed.

On a normal day, he could probably still stay awake for a couple of hours. But the blank space in his memory is still there, and maybe sleeping with Lan Wangji… maybe it’s easier, a bit, with him. Tomorrow, he should check out the talismans he was working on before all this happened for sure, though he has a feeling he might know what the stamina one was about, now.

The lights are out when he gets back into their shared bedroom. Lan Wangji is in his bed, though Wei Wuxian can tell from his breathing that he’s not quite asleep yet.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers loudly in the dark. Then giggles because he feels silly, because it’s just the two of them.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says.

“Lan Zhan, would you like for me to sleep with you again tonight?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. Then: “Do not care.”

“Aw, come on Lan Zhan! If you want me to, then you can just say it.”

Lan Wangji does not reply this time.

Maybe he doesn’t want to sleep with Wei Wuxian. Maybe he does. Maybe, like he’d claimed, he just doesn’t care. Wei Wuxian huffs. That’s not how husbands are supposed to treat each other.

He treads into his own bed and lies down. How did he do this beforehand? This bed is certainly in here for a reason. Plus, the talismans were by it, so he must use it on occasion. Or use it for something. Maybe they used it when Lan Wangji’s bed got dirty, he figures.

Being in bed alone now is strange. Also, now he feels like a bad husband. Maybe Lan Wangji always says he doesn’t care and needs Wei Wuxian to take that first step. Wei Wuxian can believe it.

Carefully, he climbs out of bed again. Pads across the floor. Crawls into Lan Wangji’s.

“Lan Zhan, I’m joining you,” he says in the dark.

Lan Wangji makes room for him wordlessly.

He is not on Lan Wangji’s chest this time; but after a day molding himself along Lan Wangji’s side, it feels more natural now to cuddle up to him, wrap his arms around one of Lan Wangji’s big arms. Plus, this bed is bigger than the one at the inn. He curls and snuggles up to his side.

“Hey,” he says to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji says nothing.

“We’re,” Wei Wuxian starts, then stops.

We’re husbands—who starts off by pointing out the obvious?

“You’re a really great person Lan Zhan,” he says. “You’ve stuck by my side through all these years. But…” he bites his lip. “What is it about me? What do you like about me so much?”

There’s certainly a good reason for Wei Wuxian to have picked Lan Wangji as his husband—more than one, a hundred Jingshis worth at least. But it’s a world of mystery about why Lan Wangji picked him.

Lan Wangji is so stiff and silent that Wei Wuxian wonders for a moment if he fell asleep without Wei Wuxian noticing.

But his voice comes through the darkness:

“I like all the things about Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice rumbles gently in the night. “I like that Wei Ying does not hesitate to do what his heart tells him to do. That he is always thinking of others before himself. I like that Wei Ying is talented and skilled, and equally confident in his own abilities. And yet, Wei Ying manages a bright outlook on life with a beautiful personality that makes it difficult for one to dislike him.”

All Wei Wuxian can think of right now is when they were teenagers, Lan Wangji hissing piss off in the Library Pavilion. Yet, this is the same Lan Wangji that bathed him tonight. Wei Wuxian’s throat feels full and he can hear his heart in his ears. He almost doesn’t know what to say.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he says, to fill up the silence. “So earnest! Sorry for making you answer, but I’m glad you did. You must be tired.”

Lan Wangji falls back to his monosyllabic responses. “Mn.”

“Goodnight then,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Goodnight.”

Wei Wuxian leans up, pecks Lan Wangji on the lips, then lies back down.

Why—

Did he just do that?

Mortification fills his body.

What the fuck did I just do? Why did I just do that? His ears and face and neck are burning—he didn’t—he wasn’t even thinking! He just did it!

What compelled me to do that? Why did I even… It must be normal, right? For us to do? But I’ve never so much as kissed a girl, not that I can remember. Even if this body has kissed Lan Zhan, I can’t… what possessed me to be so bold?

Through the cacophony of his thoughts, he does not notice that Lan Wangji has frozen in place on the bed, too.

I’ll just… It’s fine. He must be used to it. We must do it all the time, Wei Wuxian tells himself. It’s not a big deal. I’ll just not say anything.

The Jingshi is as its name for the rest of the night—silent and still. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how long it takes him to get to sleep.

And it takes a while for his so-called husband to drift off, too.

The phantom press of Lan Wangji’s lips against his own is what Wei Wuxian wakes up to. Not—not in real life, because Wei Wuxian wakes up very alone in Lan Wangji’s bed, sprawled face down on the mattress. If Lan Wangji had stayed in bed, he’d probably be spread all over Lan Wangji’s body, like some sort of grabby tentacle creature.

As it is, he’s alone and remembers what he did last night—that he kissed Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian’s cheeks burn and he buries his head into the pillow. He’s the Yiling Laozu, but right now he really understands why Lan Wangji calls him shameless all the time.

I’m not a cut-sleeve, he tells himself, but it’s starting to sound pathetic in his own head.

He wallows in his own misery and embarrassment for the next few minutes. But he is Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Laozu, and Lan Wangji’s most shameless friend. If he can live through everything else he’s lived through, he can certainly live through this.

But sometimes it doesn’t feel real, he thinks, even as the memories are steadily trickling back like ink on a page, day by day. Hardly tangible, but little things that feel like bursts of reminders, things he can believe have happened. Sizhui and Jingyi, who Wei Wuxian instinctively knows now was that annoying kid on the first day; and Xiao Pingguo, making him suddenly want to visit the donkey, taunt it with apples. They’re secondary instincts, ones that don’t feel like his, but still feel right.

Kissing Lan Wangji had not been part of that, really. But it still felt right.

But it’s what he expects of me, as a husband, Wei Wuxian reminds himself. It’s fine.

He comes back out to the main room of the Jingshi. Lan Wangji is predictable, sitting at the table again, looking up when Wei Wuxian enters the room.

His lips have always been a soft pink. Wei Wuxian’s never really paid attention until now. He wishes, last night, in the darkness, he could’ve seen—

“How are you today?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Same as usual,” Wei Wuxian says with a shrug. Then revises: “Well, a bit better.” He knows that saying so begs a bit of an explanation, though, and he doesn’t want to go into it or get either of their hopes up.

So he asks something that he’s been avoiding saying, avoiding thinking about—until now, when it’s been three days and he feels like an intruder in this life.

“Do you miss the other Wei Ying?”

Lan Wangji blinks steadily at him. “Wei Ying is with me right now.”

Wei Wuxian laughs half-heartedly. He doesn’t know why he’s asking, why he wants to know, but he does. Everything he said about liking Wei Wuxian last night, it’s almost like Lan Wangji had been talking about a different man. Wei Wuxian can recognize those qualities in himself, but it’s not—it doesn’t feel like him. Not now, at least.

And Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into.

Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He’ll be a better—or try to be just as good of a husband as the Wei Wuxian without the memory loss had been.

“Yes, but it’s not the same,” he tells Lan Wangji. “Aren’t I a different person right now? Don’t you prefer one over the other?”

Something weird twists in his chest. Am I getting jealous of… myself?

Lan Wangji regards him. “Wei Ying is Wei Ying,” he replies.

“Yes, but it’s not—I’m not the me you used to know,” Wei Wuxian tries.

Lan Wangji continues staring at him like Wei Wuxian is speaking a foreign tongue.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Never mind.” It’s probably for the best, anyway. “My memory’s always been poor, I’m sure that’s not much different than usual, is it Lan Zhan?”

Amusement glimmers in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian peers at him. “Did you just agree with me, Lan Zhan?”

An indecipherable, “Mn.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me!” Wei Wuxian says indignantly. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No Wei Ying, you have the best memory of anyone I know.'”

“No, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji intones. “You have the best memory of anyone I know.”

From where he’s sitting, Wei Wuxian falls over laughing, smacking his knee in jest. “Lan Zhan! I can’t believe you,” he says, grinning. “You really said it! But isn’t ‘do not lie’ one of the rules of the Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t respond, though there’s a small upturn at the corner of his lips.

Wei Wuxian thinks about kissing them again. He thinks about how he kissed them last night. He shouldn’t kiss them again… except he might.

His mind is a jumble but knowing that there’s… there’s them suddenly just makes the day easier. Where it felt foreign only a day or so ago, now it feels natural, inevitable. Who else would be his husband, his life partner, his zhiji, if not Lan Wangji who’s apparently stayed with him the whole time? He’d thought Lan Wangji had kidnapped him in the beginning, but now Wei Wuxian’s beginning to think that he’s the one who stayed because Lan Wangji never let him go.

This Wei Wuxian really has it good.

For the morning, he eats breakfast, then cuddles up to Lan Wangji as he grades essays. Lan Wangji catches him up to speed on what the juniors are working on as he carefully marks a paper. After watching Lan Wangji do it once or twice, Wei Wuxian asks him if he’d like Wei Wuxian to help.

Lan Wangji replies, “Yes.”

So that’s what they do, with the Gusu light filtering through the window. The essays are basic stuff, stuff Wei Wuxian could do in his sleep by the time he hit fourteen. But most kids aren’t like him, especially Jingyi who goes on tangents every few lines. He’s happy to see that the paper with Sizhui’s name is nearly flawless, though, and gives it a solid jia.

By the time lunch rolls around, he and Lan Wangji have finished grading most of the essays. Lan Wangji makes them take a break, cleaning up the scrolls as Wei Wuxian gets the food from outside. They’ve fallen into this easy pattern that Wei Wuxian likes to imagine is what it was like before he lost his memory: uncovering the dishes, piling copious amounts of hot sauce in each, splitting the bowls of rice while Lan Wangji prepares and pours them tea. More than once, Wei Wuxian is tempted to call him laogong, but that might be too much for him right now.

Just because he’s gotten used to the idea of them being husbands doesn’t mean it’s just that easy to be one.

They eat. Midway through, as Wei Wuxian is putting his deliciously spicy food in his mouth, he eyes Lan Wangji and his plain rice and vegetables.

“Lan Wangji, since you liked eating the food at Yunmeng so much, why don’t you try mine?” he asks.

Lan Wangji pauses.

Wei Wuxian sticks out a spicy pickled bamboo shoot clutched between his chopsticks. “Try it!”

Lan Wangji leans over the table and plucks it out of Wei Wuxian’s chopsticks. With his mouth.

“Mn,” he says, even though Wei Wuxian can see his ears turn pink.

Wei Wuxian feels himself blush. Lan Wangji really—! Wei Wuxian’s mouth had touched his own chopsticks. This must be normal between husbands, indirect kissing.

“Ah, and Lan Zhan’s the one who called me shameless,” he says, and Lan Wangji, despite the flush over his cheeks and ears, looks pleased with himself.

After lunch, Lan Wangji pauses by the open doorway where he’d brought out the used dishes to be picked up by a disciple later. “I must assist shufu with lessons this afternoon,” he says. His voice is apologetic. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Of course, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says brightly.

Lan Wangji has the graded essays in hand, so Wei Wuxian might bother Wen Ning or read Lan Wangji’s poetry collection or see if this present him has learned how to break into the forbidden section of the library. That’ll definitely help get his memory along.

Lan Wangji still looks unsure, so Wei Wuxian shoos him along. “Really, I’ll be fine,” he says. “I won’t leave the Cloud Recesses, I promise.”

This seems to reassure Lan Wangji. He nods, then with a slide of the Jingshi doors, departs.

Wei Wuxian hangs around the Jingshi and reads some poetry. Then, after the first one, he wonders how Lan Wangji can sit and do something so boring for hours. So he gets up and leaves the Jingshi, looking for people to bother.

Most of the kids are at their lessons, though there are some students practicing their sword work in the courtyard. Wei Wuxian gleefully interrupts and gives compliments and pointers; the Lan disciples seem undeterred at this, as if it’s something that Wei Wuxian frequently does, having slotted himself into Lan Wangji’s life, into the Gusu Lan sect so easily. Which is just as well—he married in, didn’t he?

Lan Qiren comes across them too, mustache twitching at the sight of Wei Wuxian.

“Wei-gongzi,” he says. “What are you doing out of the Jingshi?”

Oh, he probably expects Wei Wuxian to hide himself away. This is likely routine. They probably do this every time they come across each other.

Wei Wuxian enthuses, “Lending my services, of course! What are you doing outside of the 4000-rule wall?”

He giggles. Some of the Lan juniors join him, until Lan Qiren shoots them a look.

“I was informed,” he says to Wei Wuxian, “that you have been having some problems with your memory, so—”

“Oh yes, doesn’t that remind you of my days as a student here in the Cloud Recesses?” Wei Wuxian takes delight in the way Lan Qiren’s nose twitches in annoyance. “Don’t worry, shifu. I’m not lying about it this time, I promise.”

“Lying—” Lan Qiren takes a deep breath, closes his eyes.

He opens them again. “I am merely advising against overexerting yourself,” he says. “Wangji would be displeased if you were to be injured again.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says dreamily. Best to annoy Lan Qiren while he can—he can only imagine the psychological pain it caused when Lan Wangji announced their betrothal. “He’s just the most thoughtful husband, isn’t he?”

Lan Qiren’s eyebrows fly up. “Husband?”

“Shifu, I may have amnesia but I’m not going to forget the love of my life,” Wei Wuxian says with a grin.

Lan Qiren absolutely, positively flounders. “I did not realize he—” he says, then, “you—”

His face is getting increasingly redder. The Lan juniors behind them are giggling again.

Wei Wuxian salutes him. “Don’t worry, shifu, I’d never forget your best student, the love of my life,” he says, then laughs and takes off.

When he’s back at the Jingshi, Lan Wangji isn’t home yet. The sun peeks through the clouds happily, and Wei Wuxian still has those talismans he was working on. Well, the talismans his with-memory self was working on, so he goes to their bedroom and rifles through them.

There’s a lot, for a variety of purposes. The stamina talisman is scattered inside, amid one for momentary strength and another for recycling spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian frowns. He’d been so sure the stamina talisman was for his and Lan Wangji’s sex life. Well, it’s fine that it’s not, he thinks.

Then he reaches the bottom of the bamboo container. There’s a crafty looking incense stick here, along with a talisman for prolonged immobilization, and—and one that generates lubricant, for your—

Wei Wuxian pushes the case away from him and covers his face in embarrassment. He… they… this Wei Wuxian is so shameless! And Lan Wangji, too! Making talismans such as this, for them… and yet Wei Wuxian can imagine it, can imagine he and Lan Wangji lying in bed after a round to catch their breath, coming up with new ones together. But this doesn’t feel like a memory, more like a fantasy.

But Wei Wuxian’s not concerned about that. He can hardly imagine Lan Wangji being so perverted. He can hardly imagine himself being so perverted; he knows he likes to flirt and smile and flutter his eyelashes, but that doesn’t mean he actually knows what he wants. What he’s doing. He doesn’t even remember his first kiss, nothing beyond the chaste kiss he’d given Lan Wangji last night.

And yet, this Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji…

It’s not unthinkable anymore. It’s very, very thinkable. Lan Wangji would be a tender lover… or maybe he would be a rough one. He used to love telling Wei Wuxian what to do; that could easily translate into sex. His sex life. Their sex life. God, is it getting hot in here? Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure there’s no heating talismans on the Jingshi, especially since it’s spring. He fans himself, pops open the collar of his robe.

And there’s a few more questionable things in the case of talismans that he hadn’t thought much of when he’d pushed past them. But now, the one for fertility… men can’t get pregnant, but what if Wei Wuxian was trying? Or what if he just liked to think about it, tried it out just for fun with the talisman—he and Lan Wangji talking about getting Wei Wuxian pregnant in bed. Lan Wangji doesn’t talk much, but Wei Wuxian can almost imagine him saying it now, saying dirty things, about getting Wei Wuxian pregnant, fucking into him so much that his body will be forced to defy the laws of nature, filling him so much that his seed is sure to keep…

The fantasies spill out from him like water, rushing over him, body twitching on the ground where he’s sitting. Lan Wangji probably likes so many unexpected things in bed, things he can’t even begin to imagine. Wei Wuxian’s the one who talks all the time, but Lan Wangji probably spends that time coming up with all the things they can do in bed. Not just in bed, but on the table… not just on the table, but in the library, dining hall, in the forest in the middle of a night hunt…

His cock is leaking, wet at the front of his robes. He can only imagine how hard Lan Wangji would fuck him, so much that he’s sore for days. Lan Wangji would go soft and slow at his own leisure, maybe sometimes watching Wei Wuxian to see what he wants, maybe completely disregarding him and taking him how he likes, tying him up with his headband—he’d like that, Wei Wuxian would like that. Wei Wuxian’s face heats with embarrassment, with desire. God, for Lan Wangji to claim him, own him, look at him like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and destroy him.

It must be nice, this Wei Wuxian has it so nice.

He doesn’t think when he slips his robe open, wraps a hand around his cock. When he undoes the front, bare chest hitting the cool air, he imagines Lan Wangji panting, sweating, big and over him, determined to ruin him, to satisfy him. Lan Wangji is so strong, reliable, nothing would feel more right.

His cock is slippery in his hands, red and drooling as he thrusts up into the tightness of his fist. God, he wants Lan Wangji. The desire and lust burn inside him like it’s always been there. To have Lan Wangji as his husband, to know that there’s nothing Lan Wangji wouldn’t do for him—whether it’s traveling to Yunmeng with him, or filling his belly with babies. Lan Wangji would find a way to do it, do it for him, would love him that much—

“Wei Ying?” says Lan Wangji’s voice.

Wei Wuxian whimpers. Oh fuck, Lan Wangji’s here, he can’t—he should finish, no, he should stop, but he—he feels so close to the edge, the promise of pleasure so within reach, and yet, Lan Wangji—

The door to the room is cracked open. “Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji says, then freezes at the sight before him.

Wei Wuxian feels the embarrassment wash over his body—but even more than that, the turn on, that Lan Wangji sees him, can call him pretty, can—

“Lan Zhan,” he pleads, looking up at him. He feels tears brimming at the corner of his eyes, from the sensitivity of his cock, the humiliation, the red all over the front of his body. “Lan Zhan, can you—”

He expects Lan Wangji to be a good husband—to, well, help when he sees Wei Wuxian pleasuring himself. Offer a hand, his cock, anything.

What he doesn’t expect is for Lan Wangji’s eyes to darken, ears to burn red, and for him to turn on his heel, fleeing the room.

Wei Wuxian whines, but it’s too much, it’s already too much. The way he’s touching himself, so fast and rough and hard, coupled with the sight of Lan Wangji, big, and watching him, and, and—

He spills over himself, comes, pearly white semen pushing out from his cockhead, between his fingers.

He gasps, shudders. His body feels—used to it. It’s used to overstimulation, and yet—Lan Wangji, he wonders absently. But the pleasure is still settling into his bones. The images in his head are nothing compared to just seeing Lan Wangji in the flesh, and he wishes, wants, thinks that there are memories, or fantasies, of them. Somewhere in his mind there is something.

Dazed, he breathes, chest heaving until his heartbeat returns to normal. He wipes himself off, like instinct. There’s—there were a lot of interesting talismans in there. His previous self—his current self—was working on them for something. Inspired by something.

And Lan Zhan…

Wei Wuxian’s cheeks burn as he pulls his underwear back up and redoes his robes. Why had Lan Wangji balked, fled the room like he had never seen Wei Wuxian do such a thing before? If they’re husbands, he must’ve seen it so many times. It makes no sense… Wei Wuxian feels certain that they’re together, with the way that Lan Wangji looks at him, treats him, the most important person in his life. They practically raised Sizhui together. He hadn’t denied it.

Wei Wuxian is confused and still a bit horny when he steps out of the bedroom. He’d expected for Lan Wangji to have just left the Jingshi or something, but he’s still there in the main room as usual, playing a song on his guqin.

It’s vaguely familiar.

But he stops when Wei Wuxian approaches. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to think, with the way he left, and with the way Lan Wangji’s large hands are resting against the guqin strings.

“Why did you leave?” he asks, ignoring that he’s pretermitting the part where he should mention while he was sexually pleasuring himself. “I was—you could’ve helped out!”

Lan Wangji blinks at him slowly. “What?”

“Didn’t you want to help me out?” Wei Wuxian says. They’re husbands, he should’ve—none of this is making sense.

Lan Wangji stares at him some more. There is faint pink on his nose.

“Why would you think that?” he asks.

“What do you mean, why would I think that?” Wei Wuxian says. “You’re my husband! Why wouldn’t you want to?”

The only part of Lan Wangji’s face that’s moving is his mouth. “Husband?”

“Yes, you know!” Wei Wuxian gesticulates wildly, even though he’s not really sure what he’s trying to convey with the flailing of his limbs. “We’re partners, in a relationship, in love—we’re husbands, right?”

“What.” Lan Wangji opens his mouth, closes it again. “What would make you think that?”

“What do you mean? It’s so obvious!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “You’re—we—I live with you! You order all my favorite foods and even eat it with me! We’re together all the time and you do all these things for me and sometimes we share a bed? How could we not be together already? At least betrothed!”

Lan Wangji is staring at him. His neck is scarlet.

Wei Wuxian is starting to doubt himself with Lan Wangji’s reaction, but—but he can’t be wrong! Everything he said is true. It makes sense. Doesn’t it?

“Right?” Wei Wuxian says. “We have to be—we are together. Aren’t we?”

Lan Wangji stands up. Avoids Wei Wuxian’s gaze.

“I,” he says, “am going to sleep.”

“Wait—what do you mean? It’s not even hai-shi yet.” Wei Wuxian grabs at the sleeve of Lan Wangji’s robes. Lan Wangji stops, although he does not turn and face him.

Wei Wuxian looks at the red creeping down Lan Wangji’s neck. He absently wonders if it seeps down to his chest, to his nipples.

But more importantly—

“Lan Zhan, why are you—what are you trying to tell me?” Wei Wuxian grips onto Lan Wangji’s robe tightly. “Are you saying that we’re not together? We’re not husbands? Haven’t even—” He remembers last night. “Didn’t even kiss?”

Lan Wangji does not respond. He does not move, either.

“But—” It just doesn’t make sense. “But all the things I just said! You even told me that sometimes I like to sleep with you!”

“I believe,” Lan Wangji says, “that that is when you are trying to annoy me.”

“Annoy you?” Wei Wuxian laughs—the thought is so incredulous. “But that’s not annoying, I actually really like it!”

Lan Wangji turns to him now, slowly. “What?”

“I mean. Uh.” Wei Wuxian laughs again. “But if we’re not together, then—then why do you do all those things for me?”

Lan Wangji looks him in the eyes now. There’s something significant, Wei Wuxian knows. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. “It is because I am in love with you.”

Now Wei Wuxian feels like the one at a loss for words.

“What?” he says, echoing Lan Wangji’s words. He thought they were husbands, thought they were cut-sleeves, but it’s still something different, hearing the words from Lan Wangji. Not just any words—his confession.

What?

“I love you,” Lan Wangji says plainly, as if it is a fact, in the light of day. The earth is round, water is wet, Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian. “I have been in love with you. I assumed you did not know, or perhaps that you did and were too kind to point it out or shy away from my behavior.”

But Wei Wuxian, this Wei Wuxian—how could he not know? How could he not have known, especially if Lan Wangji has been like this before he lost his memory? It is obvious, a fact, in the light of day.

“You’ve… you haven’t changed your behavior,” he says to Lan Wangji. “Since I lost my memory?”

Lan Wangji nods. “I understand if you do not love me back,” he says, as if he hasn’t shaken Wei Wuxian’s whole world apart. “It has never been a question between the both of us. I was always content with anything I could have with you, so as long as you were happy and safe.”

This is all new, as hard as it is to believe—and yet, Lan Wangji does not lie.

“So,” Wei Wuxian says, trying to understand not only Lan Wangji now, but himself. Himself, before he lost his fucking memory. “So I climbed into bed with you. And have been living with you. While you’re in love with me. And. We’re not together?”

Lan Wangji blinks.

“Yes.”

“But how could I have not been in love with you?” Wei Wuxian explodes. “It just doesn’t make sense! You’re like, the perfect man—you’re Hanguang-jun! You’re kind, and caring, and funny, not to mention handsome. Everyone already falls over for you. Girls fall over for you. Why aren’t you interested in them?”

“I have only ever loved Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji replies.

But it’s not—Wei Wuxian’s not getting a headache, he’s getting elated, and also, a little bit of a headache, actually. “I don’t understand,” he says. He lets out a hysterical laugh. “I—Before I lost my memory—I have to be in love with you. For everything you do… if I wasn’t in love with you before, then I’m just stupid!”

Lan Wangji asks, “What are you saying?”

“Like, I’m not saying I’m in love with you now,” Wei Wuxian says, although that doesn’t feel right either. But how does he know? All his memories of Lan Wangji—everything feels jumbled up right now, like he’s drunk. “But maybe I am. Or, I could be. I didn’t think I was a cut-sleeve before. But Lan Zhan, look at you! What kind of person would I be if I wasn’t in love with you?”

A number of emotions are flashing over Lan Wangji’s face now. Recognizing every one of them is familiar, so familiar, like drawing an array from memory.

“You… assumed we were together,” Lan Wangji says. “Is that why you kissed me last night?”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose. “Um. You remember that.”

“And,” Lan Wangji says. “You assumed I would help you… pleasure yourself earlier. Because you thought we were together?”

Wei Wuxian feels like he’s going to burst into flames. His face is so on fire, he’s going to expire on the spot.

“Yes, Lan Zhan, okay?” he says. “You don’t have to remind me of the silly mistake I made. Yes, I assumed you would be okay with my kissing you, assumed you would help me—help me pleasure myself, and I would’ve been okay with it, alright?”

And now the look in Lan Wangji’s eyes is—intense. Dark.

Before Wei Wuxian knows it, Lan Wangji’s grabbed him by the waist, like an unholy force, and is kissing him fiercely. His mouth is hot and sinful, making Wei Wuxian squirm in his grasp. His lips are diving for Wei Wuxian’s, like he’s trying to taste every part of him, drink him, lick him, teeth grazing in little spots of pain that make Wei Wuxian moan, make him stiffen between his legs. He is so, so big around Wei Wuxian, this body, hands sliding down, hips grinding in, and Wei Wuxian’s body reacts like he hadn’t gotten off just minutes ago, sparking up with this new stimulation.

When they pull away, he gasps. Lan Wangji does too, lips dark and bruised. The sheen is high on his cheeks and his eyes are nothing like Wei Wuxian’s seen before. It makes Wei Wuxian want to roll over and present himself to Lan Wangji, in the strangest, most animalistic urge.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps between their bodies.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji growls, voice deep.

Then he hoists Wei Wuxian upwards by the legs. Wei Wuxian squeals as Lan Wangji carries them over to the bedroom, to a bed—it’s hard to tell right now which one, as Lan Wangji attacks his mouth again, bruising him everywhere. Wei Wuxian feels small and pretty and used, with the way Lan Wangji’s big hands crawl up his robes, stripping him quickly, then himself, without regard or shame.

“Lan Zhan!”

Wei Wuxian shrieks when Lan Wangji actually tears his trousers apart, not even bothering to pull them down. But it’s fine, he knows he has other ones. Lan Wangji bends his head down and inhales Wei Wuxian’s musk, the scent between his legs, mouthing, wet and hot, burning hot.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says but Lan Wangji pays him no mind, tasting all of Wei Wuxian’s cock.

It’s damp and still somehow not enough. Wei Wuxian hears a rustling, one of Lan Wangji’s hands somewhere near the floor.

He pulls up one of the talismans Wei Wuxian had seen earlier. The self-lubricating one, which, by the way that Wei Wuxian is gagging for it, panting for it, squirming for it, feels like an excellent idea.

“Please,” Wei Wuxian begs, as Lan Wangji kisses the insides of his thighs and takes his underwear off. “Please, please, Lan Zhan—”

Lan Wangji sticks the talisman on his thigh, fingers following the drawing of the spell. Almost immediately, Wei Wuxian feels the slick inside of him, cleansing, gathering, slipping out of his hole. He feels dirty and perverted and never better than he has right now. He moans and cries and moans harder as Lan Wangji kisses his belly, his chest, his nipples, his collarbones. Lan Wangji strips out of his own robes until his own gigantic body is on display.

There’s his cock, dark and flushed against his stomach and the biggest thing Wei Wuxian’s ever seen in his life. He’s pretty sure they don’t make them that big in erotic art either.

“Oh my god, Lan Zhan,” he says, feeling the saliva gather in his mouth. On his tongue. “Oh my god, Lan Zhan, Lan-er gege, Er-ge, you’re so big, I want it, I want it, I want you—”

Lan Wangji lets out a groan and covers Wei Wuxian’s mouth with his own. Wei Wuxian moans between them, at the feeling of Lan Wangji’s giant cock leaking on his belly, precum gathering with his own, sliding against his own cock. He burns and burns and wants it in him, wants it in him so badly, doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more—

He doesn’t realize he’s mumbling this against Lan Wangji’s mouth until Lan Wangji actually laughs, vibrations against his chin.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says in shock.

But then Lan Wangji gathers his own arousal in his hand, kisses Wei Wuxian’s mouth again, and presses forward.

And oh, it’s—it’s good. It’s immense and thick and Wei Wuxian has never felt anything like it in his life. He’s never touched himself down there before, but now Lan Wangji is breaching him, splitting him open, his fat, hot cock around the sensitive skin of his entrance, putting the pressure on his perineum, relentless, centimeter by centimeter. There’s an ahh, ahhhhhh sound in the air—it’s him, it’s Wei Wuxian, light-headed, barely in his body as Lan Wangji’s cock sinks into him so deeply that he can feel it in his guts, his throat.

“Lan Zhan,” he moans. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji pushes in all the way. His balls slap against Wei Wuxian’s ass cheeks.

“Wei Ying,” he says. “Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian can’t think, can’t speak, can only feel as Lan Wangji begins thrusting into him. Slow, at first, as if testing the waters. But then as Wei Wuxian moans, runs his hands over Lan Wangji’s chest, the sun brand on his breastbone, the ribbon around his forehead—

Lan Wangji grunts and snarls and fucks him harder. Every part of Wei Wuxian is full, full of Lan Wangji and his love and his cock, and he tangles his fingers around Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon. It slips off and Wei Wuxian twines it in his fingers. And then Lan Wangji somehow feels bigger, deeper, and Wei Wuxian’s chest catches, stops breathing. Lan Wangji bucks up and his cock catches at a certain angle inside of him.

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian lets out, “nn,” no words anymore, just noises, noises that only Lan Wangji can draw out of him. Drool and breathless whines spill out of his mouth as Lan Wangji looks into his eyes, pounds into him faster as Wei Wuxian weakly twists beneath him, clenching around his cock. There’s so much, so much, almost too much. Tears gather in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, and Lan Wangji gets bigger, fucks harder, harder, faster and faster.

Time and space have lost meaning; wetness falls from Wei Wuxian’s eyes now, not of sorrow or nostalgia, just the overwhelming feeling of Lan Wangji everywhere. The sound of Lan Wangji’s cock pulling and pushing out of him, along with the slick that the talisman had generated inside of him, is perverted and loud and embarrassing; Wei Wuxian sobs, on edge. With the forehead ribbon still laced between his fingers, he catches onto Lan Wangji’s shoulders, not even trying for friction, just—just wanting all of him, needing all of him, fingers running down his shoulder blades, his back. There are marks there, deep scars that Wei Wuxian might be concerned about.

Yet Lan Wangji thrusts harder, moans against him, moans, “Wei Ying, Wei Ying—”

It’s the sound of his name falling from Lan Wangji’s mouth, desperate and full of love, that makes Wei Wuxian push up against him and cum across their chests, even with the lack of friction against his cock. His orgasm now is harder than it was before, by himself, with his senses everywhere, toes curling at the edge of the mattress, fingers scratching at the marks on Lan Wangji’s back. Lan Wangji quickly follows, groaning, cock twitching into Wei Wuxian’s spasming hole. There’s so much cum spurting out from him and into Wei Wuxian that Wei Wuxian can’t help but cry out a bit more, even he comes down from his own orgasm. With the thickness of Lan Wangji’s cum coating his insides, pulsing hot through his channel, his own cock jolts, despite having crested only seconds before. Lan Wangji’s thighs are still shaking, hips still thrusting minutely as his own orgasm dwindles down.

Wei Wuxian continues running his fingers over the marks on Lan Wangji’s back. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he says, as Lan Wangji begins easing his cock out. “No—” He clenches. “You can. You should stay inside of me.”

Lan Wangji looks up.

Wei Wuxian blushes, turns his face. “Feels good,” he mumbles. “Don’t wanna be empty.”

He’s pretty sure Lan Wangji actually smirks at this. Lan Wangji slots his soft cock in, though they both groan at the oversensitivity.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian says.

He wonders if there’s a talisman he can make to keep the feeling. To keep Lan Wangji, inside.

“You’re good, Lan Zhan,” he says sleepily, stroking the deep scars on Lan Wangji’s massive back. “Better than I imagined.”

Lan Wangji peers at him curiously. “Wei Ying?”

“Mm,” Wei Wuxian says. He touches the brand on Lan Wangji’s heart—then looks down, touches his own. “You must really love me, don’t you?”

The last thing he hears before sleep overtakes him is Lan Wangji’s deep voice saying, “I do.”

It’s almost a memory, when Wei Wuxian wakes up this time. Except—it’s real, a weight next to him. Heat around him.

Lan Wangji’s naked body, pressed against his own.

Wei Wuxian smiles before he opens his eyes. It’s dark, probably not even mao-shi yet. But even with his shitty memory, he doesn’t think he’s ever woken up happier in his life.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, poking the shoulder next to him.

Lan Wangji is holding him tightly, face pressed into Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Lan Zhan.”

A puff of breath on his cheek. The slight speeding of a heartbeat beneath his elbow.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji’s rough voice.

Wei Wuxian’s cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling. “Good morning.”

Another puff against his shoulder. The scent of sandalwood, a comforting haze. Lan Wangji’s knees, curling against his side.

“Not morning yet,” Lan Wangji says, sounding tired.

“Okay, that’s true,” Wei Wuxian says. He’s pretty sure with Lan Wangji holding him like this, he could probably fall back to sleep easily, but—”I can’t believe I didn’t know you were in love with me before.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything. Wei Wuxian thinks he feels lips press against his shoulder.

“I thought it was so obvious,” Wei Wuxian says. Then he laughs, because this, now—he’s overjoyed. “I’m sorry, Lan Zhan.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Lan Wangji’s tired voice mumbles in the dark. “No need for thank yous or sorrys between us.”

“How romantic.” Wei Wuxian’s heart flutters, and he feels—he doesn’t know. He just feels. “But I think I might have been giving you the wrong message the whole time. I didn’t know at all. I didn’t mean to make you think I wasn’t reciprocating, or… or didn’t care.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. “As long as Wei Ying likes me now.”

“Well of course I like you!” Wei Wuxian nudges him. It doesn’t make Lan Wangji move at all, just kiss him somewhere at the back of his neck. “I might even… I mean, last night was amazing, I know that. And I could, I very easily could love you too. I might even already,” he adds thoughtfully. “Or when I get my memory back. I don’t think these feelings will go away.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says again, but Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure it’s a happy one.

And it is late—or early, depending on how you looked at it. Wei Wuxian shifts, and feels a piece of paper on the bed. The talisman.

“Hey,” he whispers into Lan Wangji’s face, feeling his lips brush against Lan Wangji’s in the dark. “I know you said you wanted to go back to sleep, but what if we did it again?”

Then Lan Wangji’s on him, very much awake, flipping him onto his hands and knees, palming his ass, nudging against the swollen pucker of his hole with the head of his cock. Wei Wuxian laughs into his pillow.

It’s a few days of learning each other’s bodies, understanding how they work in bed, which is not difficult, as Lan Wangji’s pretty much exactly how Wei Wuxian pictured. Better, actually, mindlessly taking control, thrusting in even when Wei Wuxian isn’t begging for it, making him cum and cry and give voice to fantasies he didn’t even know he had. He even mentions, once, that Lan Wangji is filling him so much that his body will have no choice but to take his seed, be round with child—and Lan Wangji fucks him so fast that his teeth rattle, cums so hard that Wei Wuxian would not be surprised if it came true.

It’s almost easy to forget that large parts of Wei Wuxian’s memories are still missing, until he runs a palm over the brand on Lan Wangji’s chest again, the scars on his back, and asks him about it. Lan Wangji tells him about his death, the grief that had overtaken him, how he’d faced those thirty-three Lan elders for Wei Wuxian’s life, how he’d gotten drunk after his death and burned the brand on himself. His voice is so heavy and laden with grief just at the memory that Wei Wuxian kisses his tears away and lets Lan Wangji kiss his own tears away. Then he rides him in apology, until Lan Wangji kneads his ass and spreads him, holds him tight as he fucks into him, spilling into him with more love than Wei Wuxian’s body can contain.

It’s no surprise that they’re insatiable. The both of them can’t last long without kissing, touching, groping each other again, just a reminder that they’re here, that this is real. They hardly leave the bed except to eat and relieve themselves. Lan Wangji says nothing about his duties around the Cloud Recesses, so Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure that he’s skiving off. Or that he told his uncle that he’s taking a few days for himself. Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji that the other day he’d mentioned to Lan Qiren that they were husbands, and Lan Wangji laughs again, the rarest, best sound in the world.

And then there’s the morning in bed they spend just looking at each other, murmuring each other’s names and touching each other’s cheeks. They eat breakfast and take a bath together and Wei Wuxian’s dressing himself as the sunlight dapples his skin through the windows of the Jingshi.

And everything comes back to him at once.

He remembers dying. He remembers destroying the Yin Hu Fu, trying to protect the Wen Remnants, finding a safe place for Wen Yuan. He remembers waking up in the new body, the left arm of Mo Manor, meeting Sizhui and Jingyi for the first time.

He remembers holding the dizi up to his lips and playing the familiar tune; the dancing statue; restoring Wen Ning’s consciousness; solving the mystery of Chifeng-zun’s body. He remembers sneaking through Jinlin Tai as the paperman, uncovering the secrets of Yi City, and Jiang Cheng confronting him about the golden core transfer on the ground of Guanyin Temple.

But most of all, he remembers Lan Wangji, his steady presence bringing him back into the world, always on his side in this second life, no matter what. Drunkenly claiming Wei Wuxian as his, tying him up with his headband, pretending to chase each other between folding screens.

Even in the first life, begging him to come back to Gusu… perhaps it wasn’t what Wei Wuxian had thought it meant. Perhaps he hadn’t been reading Lan Wangji right at all.

And the last thing that Wei Wuxian remembers is living with Lan Wangji in the Jingshi, in a sort of unspoken agreement. Living their lives happily and domestically, as day by day Wei Wuxian became aware of his heart fluttering every time their eyes met, every time they smiled at each other, every time their skin brushed. How he went perhaps half a minute thinking, I’m not a cut-sleeve, then thought of Lan Wangji and everything he brought, the promise of him.

How Wei Wuxian had realized he was in love with him, had been in love with him for a very long time, and was utterly terrified of it.

He wants to laugh about it now. And he does—he laughs high, and loud, clutching his stomach, his half-open robe.

“I can’t believe it,” he says to himself, wiping his eyes. “I’m so stupid!”

Lan Wangji appears in the doorway. “Wei Ying?”

“Hi, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian beams at him, and because he can, tackles him into a hug, rubbing his chin with his cheek. “I remember everything now.”

Lan Wangji’s hand, from where it had been absently stroking Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, stills. “Everything?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says. He wants to kiss Lan Wangji on the mouth now—and because he can, he does. “I remember that I knew I was in love with you before I lost my memory. And it scared me. But I didn’t—” he giggles again, “—I didn’t realize you were in love with me, too! I’ve been so blind!”

Lan Wangji’s movements resume. “Mn,” he says, smiling down at Wei Wuxian. He kisses him back.

Wei Wuxian makes a pleased sound in his mouth. “Ah, I really am stupid. I think when I was working on that talisman, too, I just got—I was stressed enough that when it knocked me out, it affected that part of my memory, too.” He presses his face against Lan Wangji’s chest. He hopes Lan Wangji can feel the creases of his smile. “I feel ridiculous now, that I put myself through all that. If I just looked for the signs from you… I feel so stupid!”

But he feels happy, too. Happier than ever.

“I agree,” Lan Wangji says gravely, holding him close. “Very stupid indeed.”

Wei Wuxian grins. “You say the nicest things, Lan Zhan,” he says, and kisses his face.

And like this, with their bodies intertwined and their hearts beating together, moving as one, Wei Wuxian has a good feeling that he won’t be forgetting this anytime soon.

Notes:

- I took the "freeze" thing from the chibi series.
- Grammatically, han your guang makes no sense in Chinese, English, or Chinese and English. However, just imagine the Chinese equivalent of making Hanguang-jun into a sensibly grammatical Chinese pun here, and you're all set.
- Laogong - basically "hubby" or colloquial "husband"; I do NOT mean this in the "eunuch" translation. However, I would now like to entertain you to the idea of LWJ calling WWX "laopo," aka "wifey" :)
- yi wen sanbuzhi - "headshaker" but literally means "one question three don't know." NHS canon reputation epithet
- Yin Hu Fu - Stygian Tiger Seal
- laotou - old man
- Xiao Pingguo - Little Apple the Donkey. I have no explanation of why I'm using his Chinese name here other than that I want to.
- jia - highest grade (like an A+)
- Hai-shi/mao-shi - 9pm/5am respectively

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