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Mo Donghai had actually been looking forward to this meeting. For once, it would be a meeting where he wouldn’t have to listen to Wei Wuxian dismantle his plans and show him up in front of the Emperor. He wouldn’t be there to mock him. Perhaps it was an uncharitable thought, but he was pleased Wei Wuxian wouldn't be there to monopolize the Emperor’s attention and disrespect him incessantly. It was his time to shine.
He would never admit this, especially within earshot of the emperor, but in the battle that had led to former General Wei’s golden core being crushed, he had felt a malicious satisfaction. The Emperor had been inordinately worried— apparently they had been childhood friends— and had spared no expense to treat General Wei, but to no avail. He had recovered from his wounds, but his golden core was gone forever. Mo Donghai had felt a thrill at the news. Finally that no good son of a servant would know his place.
When the Emperor entered the room alone, Mo Donghai almost couldn’t stop the victorious smile from overtaking his face. Usually, Wei Wuxian was plastered to his side, often too close, enough to violate the rules of propriety, though the Emperor never complained. Now that he could no longer fight, he would serve no purpose by being here. Perhaps, Mo Donghai thought, today would be the day he would gain the Emperor’ favour. After all, Wei Wuxian was useless now, it would only take one opportunity for him to prove that he was worthier than that insufferable man.
As the Emperor took his seat and all the ministers followed suit, he prepared himself to present his proposal to the Emperor. It was carefully crafted to draw the Emperor’s attention. It would paint him as an honourable man, but a caring and generous leader— someone who could withstand misfortunes, but would not allow his pride to harm those under his care. In short, it made him seem dependable and not too vulnerable, while also making him seem like he required the Emperor’s guidance and support. After all the scheduled speakers finished and the Emperor called for any others to speak if they had something to ask, Mo Donghai would be the first one up and make his case. Maybe if he was extremely lucky, the Emperor would personally guide him through the process.
Before the Emperor could call for the meeting to begin, there was a noise from outside, shocking everyone in attendance. The Emperor’s dislike of noise was well known— nobody would dare to interrupt him, especially not as a meeting was beginning. But when they looked nervously to gauge the Emperor’s reaction, his face looked as blank and expressionless as ever, as he looked over and nodded slightly. This was unusual; people had to be introduced before entering the Emperor’s presence. The Emperor was lax with rules in wartime, but this was no longer war. There was a way of doing things! He wondered who it was that was important enough for the Emperor to forego protocol.
Mo Donghai turned along with the rest of the room to see a tall figure draped in the finest of silks and laces. His black outer robe trailed behind him and was cut to reveal the wine-dark inner robe. As sheer and revealing as the robes were, there was no doubt what position this person held in the Emperor’s household. A number of glittering jade hairpins decorated the crown of the person’s head, and the long hair framed a face with delicate features. A very familiar face.
His stomach dropped. He hoped he was wrong.
He turned to the minister next to him, choking the words out. “Is that… is that Wei Wuxian?”
The other man looked equally as stunned, but nodded, confirming his worst suspicions.
As Mo Donghai looked across the room, there were whispers from everyone as they identified the man. Some were greedily drinking in the sight of Wei Wuxian, while others were staring in horror at the idea that the virtuous Emperor was taking a concubine, a former general at that. The Emperor ignored all of them, staring only at the man walking towards him.
Wei Wuxian walked towards the Emperor with purpose, crossing his usual place, heading straight for the Emperor himself. He bowed to him, then moved closer still. To the shock of everyone in the room, he sprawled right beside the Emperor, leaning into the Emperor’s side, resting his chin on the Emperor’s shoulder. The silk of his robes shimmered where it hit the light and the delicate lace was spread out on the floor. He fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly at the Emperor and smiled at him.
The Emperor.
The Emperor who famously hated to be touched.
The Emperor, who must not be touched by anyone, much less someone of Wei Wuxian’s status.
The Emperor who was currently fixing one of the jade pins in Wei Wuxian’s hair that must have come loose with his movements.
The Emperor seemed to be unaware of his advisors staring at the display. Once he was done fixing the pin, he looked over the rest of Wei Wuxian’s appearance and hummed in satisfaction. Only then did he turn his attention back to the council.
“Minister Nie, begin your report,” he said in the same even tone he always used, as though he expected all of them to ignore the fact that Wei Wuxian was practically draped on him.
As Minister Nie began speaking, Mo Donghai looked around to see if everyone else was reacting the same way he was. A number of them were still staring hungrily at Wei Wuxian, a few more were carefully impassive. Only a few of them looked as astounded by this turn of events as he did, but as the other ministers took their turns to speak, they seemed to school their faces into impassivity, taking their cues from the Emperor himself.
For most of the meeting, things went as they usually did. The one difference, however, was that on several occasions, Wei Wuxian would shuffle his robes, or flip his hair, or call attention to himself in some other utterly inane way, at which point the Emperor would turn to him and stare for a few seconds, or on one particular occasion, tuck his hair behind his ear. For the most part, Wei Wuxian remained silent, only sighing once, when Minister Yao was speaking.
His major interruption came when the last scheduled minister was speaking. Minister Xiu was asking for aid because of a flood that had ruined the crops in his region. He would not be able to trade this season, he explained, and that would be a great loss indeed.
As he was speaking, Wei Wuxian turned to the Emperor once again, a seductive smile on his face, beckoning flirtatiously to him with a finger. The irreverance of it! When the Emperor seemed not to mind the discourtesy and lowered his head slightly, he leant even closer and whispered something no doubt suggestive into his ear. To the Emperor’s credit, he showed no expression at this shameless display and when Wei Wuxian finally finished whispering, he grabbed the hand that had beckoned him and squeezed the wrist before setting it down.
“Later, Wei Ying,” he said, before continuing to listen to Minister Xiu, who was clearly irritated at the interruption, though he could not say as much to the Emperor. Once he finished, however, the Emperor fixed him with a cold glare.
“How long ago did you say the flood was, Minister Xiu?”, the Emperor asked, his tone belying none of his true feelings, but his eyes screaming rage.
“A- About a month ago,” he replied, stuttering at being directly questioned.
“Interesting,” the Emperor said.
“May I ask why the Emperor finds it interesting?”, the man looked worried.
“How could you have had a flood last month when the last reported flood from every province near yours was more than ten years ago?”
“I—” the man was cowering now.
“Are you lying to your Emperor?”
Minister Xiu looked around, terrified, clearly realizing the depth of his error. He quickly threw himself at the Emperor’s feet, acknowledging his crimes and begging for mercy. The Emperor merely looked at him with contempt before asking him to be taken away and announcing that someone else would be appointed to Minister Xiu’s post.
Mo Donghai immediately lost his nerve. He had planned to speak after Minister Xiu, but now he didn’t dare to speak. The Emperor was already incensed. If he found out how many exaggerations Mo Donghai had made to his proposal… he didn’t want to see what would happen. He wanted the Emperor’s favour after all, not a loss of his rank.
The Emperor looked at the rest of them, coolly surveying them. Then he stood up and adjourned the meeting. Usually, he would immediately leave, flanked by his guards, and more often than not, General Wei, who would have something to say even after the meeting was formally adjourned, uncaring of the fact that it was inappropriate to accost the Emperor outside of the assigned hours that he graced them with his presence. This time, however, the Emperor waited for Wei Wuxian to rise, before immediately sweeping him into his arms and carrying him out of the room. Wei Wuxian’s delighted laughter echoed after they left.
The Emperor.
The Emperor had carried Wei Wuxian out.
The Emperor had carried Wei Wuxian out.
Mo Donghai felt the seething resentment in him rise again. After all he had done, all he had prepared to earn the Emperor’s favor, he had been thwarted. Apparently, there was nothing Wei Wuxian wouldn’t do, no low he wouldn’t sink to just to keep the Emperor’s attention. Instead of having the decency to slink away when he lost his golden core, the upstart had wormed his way into being the Emperor’s bed warmer and was now tarnishing the Emperor’s virtuous image with his vile seduction! It was appalling!
It was the worst meeting Mo Donghai had been to.
When Lan Wangji first learnt that Wei Ying had lost his golden core, he had been devastated. He had seen what happened to warriors who lost their golden core, how they seemed to shrivel up and lose the will to live, succumbing to injuries that should not be fatal. He knew how hard Wei Ying had worked to build his golden core and how much it must have hurt to have it brutally ripped away. He was terrified that Wei Ying would no longer want to live, that he would lose Wei Ying forever.
When he saw Wei Ying in bed, covered in injuries, his heart had stopped. When Wei Ying had seen him and smiled at him, it had started again. He had knelt at Wei Ying’s bed side, uncaring of what propriety dictated, uncaring of what was fitting or unfitting for an Emperor. Nothing in that moment mattered but Wei Ying.
Wei Ying had come into his life like a whirlwind of color. His smile had lightened up Lan Wangji’s life. Wei Ying was the first person who had seen him— Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, not Hanguang-jun, heir to the Emperor. Wei Ying was the first person who had seen him as an equal, not a superior, who hadn’t wasted time with the pointless rules of propriety that had caged him and had instead filled his days with joy and excitement. Wei Ying was the first person to show him that life was worth living, that there was more to it than simply surviving and performing his duties.
He had fallen in love with Wei Ying embarrassingly quickly. So embarrassing, in fact, that it had taken Wei Ying nearly dying for him to admit that he cared about him. Even then, his traitorous tongue wouldn’t let him admit how desperately in love he was, merely confirming Wei Ying’s assertion that they were friends instead.
He has been in love with Wei Ying for longer than he has been the Emperor. For years, every time Wei Ying so much as looked at him, he had felt a thrill rushing through his veins.
Which was why the plan he had come up with was an incredibly stupid idea.
The plan involved Wei Ying helping him with his duties despite officially having no real position in his court. The plan meant that Wei Ying could come and go and sit in on his meetings as he pleased. The plan meant that Lan Wangji could still have Wei Ying’s clever insight and political brilliance even if Wei Ying was, technically, no longer one of his advisors. The plan was very clever and had many benefits.
The plan would have been perfect if not for Lan Wangji’s tendency to get inappropriately aroused by every single thing that Wei Ying did— a tendency that was exacerbated by proximity. And the plan involved a lot of proximity.
The plan called for Wei Ying to spend every meeting leaning on his shoulder, tucked into his side, or lounging in his lap, all while wearing the flimsy robes and delicate jewellery that concubines usually wore— the kind that enhanced every single one of the wearer’s attributes and left very little to the imagination. The plan called for Wei Ying to smile at him like he was a lover, wink coyly at him to signal that someone was lying, and whisper advice or information into his ear, his warm breath fanning Lan Wangji’s cheek. The plan called for Wei Ying to be ogled by half of his council, their eyes clinging to the curve of his neck and the sharpness of his collarbones, the black silk of his hair, all while Lan Wangji pretended not to notice. The plan called for Lan Wangji to hold Wei Ying covetously while being increasingly aware that Wei Ying was not, in fact, his.
The plan was going to send Lan Wangji into an early grave.
There was only so much one man could stand, only so many sweet smiles and flirtatious calls of ‘gege’ and movements choreographed to draw attention that he could put up with. At any given moment, Lan Wangji was likely to let his control snap and show Wei Ying exactly what his teasing was doing to him. Controlling himself was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated.
It might have even been manageable if it was just sex he had wanted. He could fiercely ignore his desires until they went away— not that that had ever worked when it came to Wei Ying— but it was more than that. The things he wanted were so much more intimate than that. He wanted so much more. So much that it might scare Wei Ying away. He wanted to wrap Wei Ying in his embrace and never let go, never let the world hurt him again. He wanted to give Wei Ying everything he wanted— he knew Wei Ying would ask for nothing, but he deserved everything, so much more than Lan Wangji could ever give him. He wanted to spend his days making Wei Ying happy, coaxing those beautiful laughs and delicate smiles out of him, seeing his eyes widen with delight. He wanted to run his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair and lull him to sleep every night. He wanted to read poetry with Wei Ying, comb his hair out every morning, pour tea for him.
He couldn’t allow himself these indulgences.
He couldn’t lose himself in fantasies, not when the real Wei Ying would never want the same thing.
Wei Ying was only here, helping him, because he thought of Lan Wangji as a friend. And perhaps, he felt it was part of his duty. He dared not expect more.
He couldn’t deny that Wei Ying was invaluable when it came to dealing with affairs of the state. He always had been, but it was somehow even more effective when Wei Ying didn’t have to wait for the end of the meeting to talk to him, and could instead lean in with a coy smile and whisper into his ear when someone was lying to him. Unfortunately, every time he passed on crucial information, he followed it with a giggle or a laugh, throwing back his head, completely unaware of how it made Lan Wangji feel to have the pale expanse of his unmarked throat right there. While Lan Wangji was more confident in his decisions with Wei Ying’s advice and approval, he was now also constantly having thoughts that made it exceedingly hard to meet Wei Ying’s eyes. Thoughts that were intimate in every way, obscene and tender.
He had no one to blame but himself.
He hated himself so much sometimes.
‘
When Wei Wuxian had lost his golden core, his first thought had been, ‘at least it isn’t anybody I care about’. His second thought was that he was no longer worthy of Lan Zhan’s attention.
When they had first met, they had bonded over the fact that they were equals. Lan Zhan had been the first person he had never needed to hold back with, and he knew it was the same for Lan Zhan. Neither of them had been bested before, and it only served to make them both work harder to improve themselves. They had gone from rivals to friends within the span of a few months, though it had taken Wei Wuxian a good few years and a near-death experience to get Lan Zhan to admit they were friends. They were different in status, of course, but Lan Zhan never treated him like he was lesser for not being born into the gentry. Wei Wuxian was not eager to find out how much of that came from the fact that they were a match in other ways.
He need not have worried, as it turned out. When Lan Zhan had come to visit him— and Lan Zhan had come to visit him, Lan Zhan who was the Emperor, who had a million more important things to do had come to visit him— he had knelt, eliciting horrified gasps from everyone who had seen it. And he had ignored it, ignored all of it in favor of grasping Wei Ying’s hands between his palms and looking at him with the soul-piercing eyes that Wei Ying had been weak to since he was fifteen.
He had dared to think then, that perhaps Lan Zhan would let him stay at his side, useless as he was to the Emperor now.
The war was won, but the army still needed a general. A general who would be able to unsheathe a spiritual sword without passing out. As reluctant as Lan Zhan had been to replace Wei Wuxian, he’d had to do it. And General Luo— who had grudgingly allowed him to call her Mianmian after he saved her life in a spectacular fashion— was competent enough to take his place. When they had begun training together, she and Wei Wuxian had immediately bonded over their similar backgrounds and the double-edged sword that was having the audacity to be more skilled than their supposed betters. He had no doubt that she would be firm and fair, and that she wouldn’t betray Lan Zhan for personal gain. She was a good general.
That still meant that Wei Wuxian— who no longer retained his position— couldn’t be there to support Lan Zhan the way he used to. It had been unconventional, but few had the courage to complain that a highly decorated general of the army was sitting in on administrative meetings. Wei Wuxian wasn’t meant to be there, but his rank meant that no one would dare say so to his face, even if they said it behind his back. Now that he was officially discharged from his responsibilities, he had no excuse to attend. And that set Lan Zhan on edge, because he preferred to have someone in the room who he could trust to be on his side.
So really, Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have been surprised that Lan Zhan would come up with a plan.
He should maybe be blamed for how eagerly he threw himself into it.
The plan called for Wei Wuxian to drape himself on Lan Zhan at any given opportunity, dressed like China’s most expensive concubine— which incidentally, he probably was, with how much jewellery Lan Zhan had bought him. The plan called for Wei Wuxian to spend hours gazing at Lan Zhan’s perfect face while figuring out every advisor’s agenda, and leaning in to whisper to Lan Zhan, close enough that his scent was overwhelming. The plan called for Wei Wuxian to stay in place while Lan Zhan did outrageous things like fix his hair or look deep into his eyes with burning intensity— things that made him want to squirm. The plan called for Wei Wuxian to be held by Lan Zhan like he was something to be cherished while being increasingly aware that Lan Zhan was not, in fact, his.
The plan was going to send Wei Wuxian into an early grave.
See, it wouldn’t be so hard if he could just stop himself from wanting. If he could stop himself from coveting what he had no business coveting. But he wanted Lan Zhan with an intensity that he could hardly acknowledge to himself. He knew he was unworthy of Lan Zhan, Hanguang-jun, the peerless Emperor, but he couldn’t help himself. For all that people accused him of not knowing his place, he was very aware of it. He knew what he was worth. And he knew that he could never earn the right to think of Lan Zhan the way he did— not even if he lived a thousand honourable lives and died a thousand miserable deaths. To even dream of marring the perfection that was Lan Zhan with his unwanted, unworthy, overstepping affections was unthinkable.
Even before he lost the one thing that set him apart from the others clamoring for Lan Zhan’s affections, he had been undeserving of him. Now, he didn’t even have his strength, his power, his talent to offer. He would content himself with the bits of Lan Zhan he could get, dream of the way his arms felt when he carried Wei Wuxian, the way his fingers felt around his wrist, the way his voice sent pleasant shivers down his spine. He would be satisfied with it.
He would stay by Lan Zhan for as long as he was needed.
He would step aside when he was asked to.
Basking in Lan Zhan’s presence for a few years was more than he deserved, anyway.
Mo Donghai had assumed, incorrectly, that things would get better after that first meeting. They decidedly did not. To his horror, things got so much worse after that. They escalated slowly, but undeniably. Compared to their recent behavior, the Emperor and Wei Wuxian had been restrained in that first meeting.
It might have been understandable if Wei Wuxian had been the one acting shamelessly. After all, someone of his background couldn’t be expected to know how to behave appropriately in the presence of the Emperor. If he was taking liberties, it could be easily attributed to his ill breeding. It was a different matter altogether that the Emperor was the one initiating most of the acts, especially the more… indecorous ones.
At one meeting, Wei Wuxian had started absently playing with the embroidery of the Emperor’s robes, running his fingers over the sleeves in a thoroughly distracting manner. Not only was he taking the Emperor’s attention away from important matters, he was behaving in a thoroughly improper manner. Worse still, the Emperor simply let him do it, not even bothering to point out how wrong it was for Wei Wuxian to take such liberties with him.
At another one, Wei Wuxian kept leaning in to whisper to the Emperor, more so than he usually did. Rather than tell him to stay quiet, the Emperor hauled Wei Wuxian into his lap, so he could keep whispering without having to lean in each time.
At one particularly trying meeting, while the Emperor had been demanding reports on the newest changes to the taxation policy, Wei Wuxian had been lazily dipping strawberries in honey and eating them, occasionally placing one against the Emperor’s lips, pouting until he ate it. Eventually, he ran out of strawberries, and turned to give the Emperor his full attention, not noticing the smear of honey at the corner of his lips. The Emperor, however, did not fail to notice this. Right there, in the middle of the poor treasurer’s explanation, the Emperor reached out to wipe the honey off of Wei Wuxian’s lip with his thumb, then sucked the honey off his thumb, all the while making eye contact with Wei Wuxian.
Mo Donghai couldn’t take it anymore. There was no limit to the number of inappropriate displays he and the rest of the ministers were confronted with on a daily basis. The worst part was that none of them could even complain about it. The Emperor was beyond reproach. The Emperor was righteous and just and he was owed their allegiance and respect. No matter what sort of behaviour he and Wei Wuxian engaged in.
It was their fate to endure.
Lan Wangji was feeling guilty. Technically, he wasn’t doing anything he was well within his rights to do— all of his actions could be justified according to the plan. Technically, he was in the clear. But his motivations were impure, so technicalities hardly mattered.
When Wei Ying had taken to tracing messages onto his clothes, he had been impressed by the ingenuity. He had immediately realized that it would be both inconspicuous and convenient. He had also been inappropriately thrilled at the idea of Wei Ying’s hands on him. When Wei Ying’s hands trailed over his sleeve, he felt their warmth through the layers. It took everything in him to stay focused on the message instead of losing himself in the sensation of Wei Ying touching him.
When he realized that craning his neck to whisper into Lan Wangji’s ear was not forgiving on the muscles of Wei Ying’s shoulders, he told himself that he was simply worried about Wei Ying’s comfort when he pulled the man into his lap. It had nothing to do with the way Wei Ying’s body felt against his chest, or the way that he could feel the vibrations of the words he spoke. He was only slipping his hand around Wei Ying’s waist to make sure he couldn’t fall out of Lan Wangji’s lap, not because he wanted to anchor himself to Wei Ying, and certainly not because Wei Ying’s squirming was causing certain… situations to arise.
He admitted that it was indefensible when he had reacted to a smear of honey on Wei Ying’s mouth not by ignoring it, not by simply wiping it off, but by wiping it off and then putting it in his own mouth. In his defense, that was him showing restraint. His every instinct had been screaming for him to lick it straight off Wei Ying’s lip, to tug and tease with his teeth, to taste the strawberries from Wei Ying’s mouth, to see if the sounds he could tease out of Wei Ying would be as sweet as the honey.
He was a terrible person.
He was in a position of power over Wei Ying, and he was abusing that power to act inappropriately towards his best and only friend, who was only going along with this because he was unaware of Lan Wangji’s feelings.
He was a horrible person, and he didn’t deserve sympathy when he was so unable to control himself.
He had brought this upon himself.
He had no choice now, he had to endure.
When Wei Wuxian first agreed to the plan, he hadn’t fully realized how difficult it was going to be. He had assumed he could handle it— forced himself to believe he could handle it— because Lan Zhan needed him. Now however, he has a new appreciation for his tenuous, fraying self-control.
He hadn’t realized when he suggested passing messages by writing on Lan Zhan that he would become intimately acquainted with the firm muscles of Lan Zhan’s arms— evidence that becoming the Emperor didn’t mean that he had given up on his handstands and sword forms. He hadn’t realized that the feeling of Lan Zhan’s arm would send jolts sparking up his fingers, that he would be so affected by the reminder of Lan Zhan’s strength.
He hadn’t realized that Lan Zhan would let Wei Wuxian be in his lap, hadn’t expected Lan Zhan’s arms wrapped around him or the heat that would pool in his belly at that. It had taken so much of his control to not immediately sink into Lan Zhan’s arms. He couldn’t help thinking about Lan Zhan holding him close, being in Lan Zhan’s lap for reasons other than utility.
He had told himself that people might get suspicious if they only acted affectionate to pass information. Someone was bound to notice a pattern, he had told himself. In reality, he had simply tasted the sweetest strawberries and couldn’t help but share them with Lan Zhan. He had not expected to feel Lan Zhan’s thumb brushing his mouth, or meet that dark intense gaze as Lan Zhan tasted the honey that had just been on his lips. Nor had he anticipated how he would spend sleepless nights recalling and reliving that moment, imagining the feeling again and again.
The plan was going to be his ruin, and he couldn’t even do anything about it.
It was too late to back out now.
All he could do was endure.
It all comes to head on a day that begins normally. As has become usual for them, Lan Wangji enters the meeting room exactly on time and waits for a few seconds before calling the meeting to a start. Right on cue, Wei Ying walks in. As has become a habit, it takes all of Lan Wangji’s carefully maintained control to not let his feelings show on his face. Wei Ying walks towards him, the sunlight reflecting off of the blue silk of his robes. Inwardly, he preens at the sight of Wei Ying wearing his colours. He very firmly does not allow himself to think about what Wei Ying would look like wearing nothing at all.
Wei Ying walks towards him, smiling that small smile he reserves for Lan Wangji alone. Lan Wangji is struck by how much he doesn’t deserve this, but he is a weak enough man that he will cling to any little bits of Wei Ying he can have. These small smiles, the fact that he is the only one who addresses him by his birth name, the little indulgences he allows Lan Wangji— letting him fix the pins in his hair, or feed him on occasion, or run his fingers through his hair when he rests his head on Lan Wangji’s lap— he will hoard them all as selfishly as he can.
Today, Wei Ying settles in his lap, one hand on his shoulder for support, the touch both too much and not enough. Lan Wangji wraps his arm around Wei Ying’s waist to support him further, trying very hard not to think about reeling the man in closer and holding him tightly. His hair smells like lotus blossoms, the hair oil he buys from Yunmeng. When Wei Ying smiles up at him, he doesn’t think about kissing it off his face. At some point in the day, he ends up threading his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair, and he doesn’t imagine burying his hands in it, pulling it to reveal the column of his throat, and mouthing at it. All in all, he shows a great deal of restraint.
The meeting ends, and Lan Wangji rises, this time choosing to place his hand at the small of Wei Ying’s back to guide him as they leave the room. Wei Ying is quiet, contemplating some of the things that had happened during the meeting. Lan Wangji guides them to one of the courtyards for lunch, the one overlooking the garden. He knows how much Wei Ying likes taking his meals out in the open. Wei Ying beams at him, and Lan Wangji’s heart stutters.
They share a nice meal together. Lan Wangji remains silent, adhering to his family’s rules, but Wei Ying talks enough for the both of them, his eyes bright as he alternates telling a story with taking little bites of his food. Lan Wangji resists the urge to feed Wei Ying himself, to make sure that he eats enough. He spends so much time with Wei Ying in his arms or on his lap these days, he can tell that Wei Ying is far too light for a man of his height. He satisfies himself by transferring the best bits of the meal into Wei Ying’s bowl and staring pointedly at him until he eats them. When the meal ends, the dishes are cleared away, but the two of them stay, gazing at the garden in silence. They stay like that in comfortable silence, until their peace is interrupted.
Wei Ying is the first to notice that something is wrong. His battle-honed instincts do not fail him, as he catches the moving blur out of the corner of his eye.
“Lan Zhan, be—”, he gets out before an arrow comes flying in their direction.
Eyes widening, Wei Ying tackles Lan Wangji, just as the second arrow narrowly misses them. As the assassin advances, Lan Wangji can pinpoint the moment he realizes that the assassin had decided to deal with Wei Ying first, before trying to kill him. The man releases the arrow just as Lan Wangji grabs Wei Ying around the waist and flips him over, closing his eyes and bracing for the impact
A sharp pain explodes in his shoulder. He feels a dagger whizzing by his ear, hears the thump as it hits its target and the assassin falls. He finally opens his eyes to see Wei Ying unharmed, but looking incredibly angry.
“You’re hurt!”, he cries. “Lan Zhan, you’re hurt!”
“Mn, it’s only my shoulder.”
“You’re bleeding!” he exclaims. “Where are the guards?”
Lan Wangji looks away from Wei Ying to check his bleeding shoulder. It isn’t too bad, the wound is shallow. The arrow would have hit Wei Ying in the head, though, and no matter how shallow, it would have killed him.
“I will be fine,” he says, attempting to placate Wei Ying, but he only looks more infuriated. “I had the guards sent away to give us privacy. I will be fine.”
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying snaps, glaring. “What was that for? Why did you do that?”
Lan Wangji merely raises an eyebrow. Why is Wei Ying asking questions whose answers are obvious? “To protect you,” he says. If the obvious answer is what Wei Ying wants, it is what he will get. “You might have lost your life, it was just my shoulder.”
Wei Ying only gets angrier. “Lan Zhan, you’re the Emperor,” he says, still frowning. Lan Wangji wants to kiss the furrowed brow. “You can’t risk your life for me!”
There is no one else Lan Wangji would rather risk his life for. “Why not?” he asks. He is the Emperor, yes. In the grand scheme of things, he supposes that his death would lead to political turmoil. But when Wei Ying stands to get hurt, he does not— cannot— think of any of this, not his status or the political ramifications, or the many many reasons he should not risk his own life. What greater purpose is there in his life, if not to save Wei Ying?
“Why not?” Wei Ying splutters. “You— it’s — I—,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “I’m not worth it, Lan Zhan. I’m a nobody. You shouldn’t risk yourself for me.”
At that, Lan Wangji bristles. It pains him that Wei Ying sees himself this way. He cannot let Wei Ying continue to think like this.
“If something happens to me, it’s not a big deal. You’re the Emperor, Lan Zhan, your life is worth more than mine.”
“Wei Ying!” he snaps. Wei Ying stops talking, his eyes widening. Lan Wangji doesn’t snap usually, doesn’t direct his anger at Wei Ying, but he cannot help himself. “Do not,” he says through gritted teeth, “Speak about your life in such a casual manner.”
“But Lan Zhan, I—,” Lan Wangji cuts him off by pressing a finger against his lips.
“Wei Ying, you are precious to me. I would do anything to keep you from harm,” he says.
“You can’t—”
“Do you presume to tell me what I can and cannot care about?” he asks, in the tone he usually reserves for the people who question his decisions simply for the sake of being contrary. He thinks he hears Wei Ying’s breath hitch, but he does not give it too much thought. “Do you think I could live with it if you died in my place?”
“Lan Zhan…” he murmurs, his eyes unfocused, before snapping back to meet Lan Wangji’s.
“Wei Ying,” he reaches out to cup Wei Ying’s cheek. “Will you not believe that you are important to me?”
“Ah Lan Zhan, who am I to have the audacity to presume that I am important to the Emperor?” he laughs nervously, in the self-deprecating way Lan Wangji has noticed him do every time he hears something heartfelt.
And Lan Wangji says the one thing he has been keeping secret for years now. There are, perhaps, better ways of saying it— nicer ways, more romantic ways. Ways that do not involve him pinning Wei Ying to the floor while the blood from his shoulder begins to drip onto Wei Ying’s robe. But in this moment, he needs Wei Ying to understand exactly how much he means to Lan Wangji. So he says it.
“You are the man the Emperor has been in love with since he was fifteen,” he says.
Wei Ying inhales sharply.
“I do not mean to force you to acknowledge my affections, or return them,” he hurries to say. “You may stay with me for as long as you like even without feeling the same way. And if you wish to never see me again,” he swallows the lump in his throat at the thought, “I will let you go wherever you want. I will not impose on you in any way.”
“Lan Zhan, are you joking?” Wei Ying cuts in, his voice breathless. Lan Wangji holds still, hoping for acceptance but bracing himself for rejection. “Not return your affections? I have been in love with you since we were fifteen!”
Hope courses through him, but he cannot believe it. “You…”
Wei Ying laughs, a clear beautiful sound. “I love you Lan Zhan, I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t remember what it was like not to love you.”
“Wei Ying—”
“Lan Zhan, I love you so much, how could you even think otherwise?”
“I didn’t dare to hope,” he admits. “I never thought you might feel the same way.” He still cannot fully believe it. It feels like a dream. He feels like he is going to wake up at any moment and learn that this is a particularly cruel dream, and that he will no longer have Wei Ying in his arms.
“How could I not?” Wei Ying smiles at him— the small smile he reserves for him alone. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met Lan Zhan. I like you so much. And you’re really beautiful! Who wouldn’t fall for you?”
“Wei Ying is more beautiful,” he says, unable to stop the smug smile when Wei Ying squeals and blushes. “Wei Ying is kind, and brilliant, and honorable. If I am a good man, it is because you bring it out in me.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers. “You can’t say things like that to me. I’ll… I’ll take it seriously, and then I won’t ever leave you.”
He feels a thrum of satisfaction at the thought, at having Wei Ying always. “Good,” he says decisively. “I will keep Wei Ying forever.”
Wei Ying blushes again. Lan Wangji is beginning to realize how beautiful he looks when he blushes— he wants to see this sight every day. Wei Ying begins to say something, but is cut off by the arrival of the guards, who react in horror and immediately start fussing over him.
“Don’t risk your life for me again, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs as they part ways, part of his guard taking him to get the arrow removed from his shoulder, the rest staying behind to reinforce the security.
“Mn,” he replies, allowing Wei Ying to interpret that in any way he chooses. He will not lie to Wei Ying. He may not intentionally risk his life, but if Wei Ying is in danger, he does not think he could stop himself from doing everything he can to keep his beloved from harm.
As Lan Wangji is being herded by his guards towards the physician, he turns back to look at Wei Ying, who is talking to the guards, presumably giving them details about the assassination attempt. Their eyes meet, and they smile at one another, a conversation passing between them without a single word.
They will have forever together, if Lan Wangji has anything to say about it.
Mo Donghai wonders what crimes he has committed in a past life to be punished this way.
He had thought that as time went on, the Emperor would simply get bored of his new plaything and that finally, he could be rid of the presence of that menace. He had hoped even, that the Emperor would take offense to a concubine constantly interrupting him during meetings, had waited for the day the Emperor would finally snap and get rid of him.
The Emperor does no such thing.
In fact, the Emperor seems to grow more besotted with Wei Wuxian with every passing day.
Months and years pass, and the Emperor still keeps Wei Wuxian by his side, or on his lap. Wei Wuxian still giggles into his ear and winks and whispers constantly, while the Emperor looks on in fond indulgence. Every time Wei Wuxian leaves a meeting early, the Emperor dismisses him with a kiss that makes all of the advisors— Mo Donghai included— avert their eyes in embarrassment. Every time Wei Wuxian joins a meeting late, the Emperor pauses the meeting to greet him, pressing a kiss to his wrist before settling Wei Wuxian against himself. To make matters worse, the Emperor has now begun to leave proprietary marks on Wei Wuxian. The shift of his hair often reveals a smattering of bites on his neck, which the Emperor seems almost proud of.
At this particular meeting, Wei Wuxian had entered late, as he did increasingly often. He wore a particularly fetching robe of purple, and he looked like a vision with his carefully arranged hair ornaments. Minister Jin had taken a particular interest and had seemed to lose all hint of subtlety, as he openly leered at Wei Wuxian. The Emperor, of course, had noticed. Wei Wuxian had been seated on the Emperor’s lap, still facing the rest of the ministers. He had been absently twirling a lock of his own hair, a movement that caught the attention of both the Emperor and Minister Jin. The Emperor had waited until Minister Jin was looking straight at him, before tugging slightly at Wei Wuxian’s hair to make him tilt his head. Then, making eye contact with Minister Jin, the Emperor had pressed his mouth to Wei Wuxian’s neck, glaring at the minister as he did so until the man looked away. He had spent the rest of the meeting intently avoiding looking in the direction of Wei Wuxian, and avoiding meeting the Emperor’s eyes.
The Emperor flashed him a final glare when the meeting ended, wrapping his arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist as they left together.
Minister Jin had immediately come over to complain to Mo Donghai about it.
It had been a blatantly improper act.
The Emperor was supposed to be untouchable and virtuous.
The Emperor usually was. It was only since Wei Wuxian that he had begun acting in this way. It was only since then that the Emperor had started performing increasingly depraved actions, had become uncaring of his audience when he showered his concubine with affections.
Mo Donghai had thought that Wei Wuxian not being a general anymore would make his life easier. It had only made it harder.
He wished Wei Wuxian had never lost his golden core after all.