There was a letter waiting for him when he was finally finished with his Chief Cultivator duties, a plain envelope with his name haphazardly written in a beloved, messy scrawl. It was inconspicuous and underhanded and nothing about its appearance belied the fact that if anyone else but Lan Wangji tried to open it, it would burst into flames and spew noxious fumes on the individual who dared to take a look at what wasn’t meant for their eyes.
For Lan Wangji, the letter opened without a problem.
On the fifth day of the seventh month, your Wei Ying writes to you, the letter began and Lan Wangji felt his shoulders sag as the stress he’d gathered during the day finally bled away.
It wasn’t ideal, this separation, but it was something they had to endure. While Wei Ying needed to travel the world for a moment and find out who he was when he wasn’t the Yiling Patriarch or a kicked-down lunatic, Lan Wangji was tied up in the Cloud Recesses with his duties. For now, he had to bear the brunt of being both the Sect Leader and Chief Cultivator as Brother was still in seclusion and Uncle hadn’t quite regained his strength from whatever mangled, foul spell Su She had played in the Burial Mounds. Hence, Lan Wangji had to step up.
Three days after he watched his heart walk away with Wei Ying, the first letter arrived, written in barely legible brush strokes, frenetic and messy and full of barely restrained energy just like Wei Ying himself. He described the sky and the grass, the paths he and Lil’ Apple took, and how he missed Lan Wangji by his side. His words painted a vivid picture of the journey across the Cultivation world, of the people he met and the food he ate, and how he slowly mended himself from small pieces into a whole person again.
The letters eased Lan Wangji’s mind—not that he doubted Wei Ying’s feelings—but because sometimes he felt like he and Gusu were bland and uneventful shackles holding Wei Ying down. And he’d rather cut off his right arm than hold Wei Ying back from seeing what the world had to offer. He’d waited for over a decade, one more year was nothing. And even if it was…something, he’d never burden Wei Ying with his demands.
”Take your time,” he’d said to Wei Ying when they parted on the high, grassy hill, lips still tingling from the ardent kisses. ”I’ll wait for you.”
”Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying had said with a demure smile and something lurking in his eyes. ”What if you get bored of waiting?”
He’d tilted Wei Ying’s face up by his chin and said, ”Never,” with such conviction that Wei Ying’s eyes had gone wide and his lips had parted and what was Lan Wangji supposed to do then but to kiss him? He’d been ready to have Wei Ying right then and there but he’d promised himself that he’d have more restraint—Wei Ying deserved at least a bed for their first time together—but it had been a close call. They’d both been hard and light-headed when they’d come up for air and Lan Wangji had felt an unreasonable amount of pride at the hazy look of pleasure in Wei Ying’s eyes.
So, no, their separation wasn’t ideal but they managed.
I met a young family on the road, Wei Ying wrote. Their cart had broken so I fixed it and then bullied Lil’ Apple to help them out. She’s such a horrible beast, Lan Zhan, but she behaved so well when I lifted the young boy on her back. His name was A-Ping and he reminded me so much of our A-Yuan—
Lan Wangji smiled briefly, thinking back on the small boy who clung to his legs and played with his straw butterfly with a wide smile on his face. That boy had grown up into a fine young man who brought joy and pride to his family.
Not for the first time, he wondered if Wei Ying would want to raise another child, this time with Lan Wangji.
I think I’m going to head up to Qinghe. I know, I know, Huaisang is dangerous and all that, but he had his reasons. I want to see if my old friend would be willing to sit down and share a drink with me—
He had a feeling Wei Ying was slowly making his way back home—first visiting Lanling and Qinghe and then hesitantly heading to Yunmeng like a scolded dog who wasn’t sure he’d be welcome home anymore.
Lan Wangji was many things, including but not limited to petty and vindictive when it came to Wei Ying but he recognized the need for closure between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Ying. Their relationship had always been volatile and explosive in ways Lan Wangji would never comprehend but he didn’t have to. He just had to understand it was important to Wei Ying.
The stars are beautiful tonight, my Lan Zhan, Wei Ying wrote and Lan Wangji traced the words with a finger.
”My Wei Ying,” he murmured with a small smile.
Then he tapped twice at the still shape resting on the right corner of the letter.
At his touch, the paperman shivered and came to life. It hopped up and shook itself, stretched this way and that way before cocking its head up at him, expectant. Lan Wangji held out his hand, waiting patiently as the paperman climbed up to his palm and then sauntered up his arm. It stopped at his shoulder for a moment, tugged his ear, and dodged out of the way when Lan Wangji moved his head slightly to glance at it from the corner of his eye.
Somehow the paperman managed to convey an air of rolling its eyes.
”Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji said fondly.
The paperman ducked its head before it darted slightly back and Lan Wangji felt a tug on his forehead ribbon and stifled a snort. He never knew what the paperman would do or how long it would manage to function—Wei Ying’s ability to infuse a piece of paper with his spiritual energy and let it stay dormant until it came to life at Lan Wangji’s touch was still a complete mystery to him. Sometimes they played hide and seek, sometimes the paperman leaned on his headpiece as Lan Wangji played his guqin, sometimes it sat back and watched him Lan Wangji read.
But no matter what happened or what surprises Wei Ying had prepared for him, the paperman always finished its evening with him the same way: it gently tapped Lan Wangji on the cheek to inform him it needed a ride and then hopped to stand on the palm of Lan Wangji’s expectant hand. It reached up to softly trace its hand along the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips and then pressed its face against them.
”Goodnight, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji always said and kissed the paperman.
It shivered and went still, slowly tilting back until it lay still, once more just an ordinary piece of paper.
Except that to Lan Wangji, it was nothing but ordinary.
Carefully, he picked the paperman up, traced his finger along the smooth surface, and, as always, placed it next to his pillow on the bed.
Later, when he put out the candles, he glanced up to the sky.
Yes, the stars were beautiful tonight.