The cold is biting this year, even more than it used to be. Lan Qiren refuses to admit it might be because of he’s getting old and his bones protest at the austerity of the Cloud Recesses. The fact that his health has stayed frail ever since the injuries he got during the siege and occupation of Gusu should be a non-issue. The Lan live on a mountain that gets cold during winter. Not bearing with it is just plain frivolity.
He grits his teeth against the chill and makes his way to his younger nephew’s home at a steady, unhurried pace. Despite his questionable choice of a spouse, Wangji has been an exemplary leader, shouldering the responsibilities of both Sect Leader Lan and the Chief Cultivator during Xichen’s seclusion. Lan Qiren feels an appropriate amount of paternal pride toward him. He just wishes Wangji would work from his office instead of his home in winter.
There are odd knickknacks and a pile of colorful rocks on the patio and—is that a snowman just around the corner? Lan Qiren huffs but tries to stamp down his irritation, knowing nothing good will come out of it, and gives a perfunctory knock on the door before sliding it open. Warm air puffs out of the Jingshi and he feels his shoulders relax with it. He takes off his thick outer robe and hangs it on a nail next to the door before making his way further into the room.
Wangji sits at his desk, going through a stack of letters, and looks up when Lan Qiren clears his throat. ”Uncle,” he says, setting the letter aside with a faint air of displeasure. Even with the text being upside down, Lan Qiren recognizes Sect Leader Yao’s handwriting which, in his mind, perfectly justifies Wangji’s displeasure.
He nods at Wangji and sits down, refusing to take a look around. He doesn’t visit the Jingshi very often—Wangji is very protective of his husband even though Wei Wuxian doesn’t bother respecting the rules of the place he now lives in, and Lan Qiren is frankly too tired to invite disaster when it’s easier to just plain ignore it. Or, well, him.
”Are you alone?” Lan Qiren asks as Wangji starts preparing tea.
Wangji doesn’t look at him as he measures the leaves into the pot. ”Wei Ying is sleeping,” he says. When Lan Qiren huffs out his displeasure, he levels him with a cool look. ”The cold season is hard on his body. Resting helps.”
Tea spares him from pointing out that being active is what helps and they share a moment of peace with the brew. It’s slightly too strong for Lan Qiren’s tastes but he assumes that (too) is because of Wangji’s husband.
”Was there something you needed, Uncle?” Wangji asks the moment Lan Qiren finishes his tea.
Still feeling slightly disgruntled, he takes a small bundle of letters from his sleeve. ”These were sent to me although I have no clue why Sect Leader Qu thought I’d be the right recipient instead of you.”
”Because Lan Zhan intimidates him and he thinks Teacher Lan is too stuffy to actually read and comprehend what he suggests,” Wei Wuxian says from behind him. ”Which you aren’t of course.”
”Wei Ying,” Wangji says and smiles. Lan Qiren scowls into his (empty) teacup.
”Don’t give me that look. I tried to sleep but couldn’t—the bed is too cold without you.” He sits down in an undignified heap, leans into Wangji, and shoots a bright smile at Lan Qiren. He doesn’t appreciate the sight.
”I shall be on my way,” he announces to no one in particular.
”Oh, you can take the night hunt reports back if you want,” Wei Wuxian says. ”They’ve been graded.”
”You finished them all already?” Wangji asks.
Wei Wuxian shrugs. ”I couldn’t sleep last night so I figured I’d get them done,” he says airily.
”Wei Ying,” Wangji says, and that intonation apparently means something to his husband because Wei Wuxian ducks his head and avoids meeting his eyes.
”Thank you,” Lan Qiren says through his teeth and leaves before he says something that would cause Wangji not to talk to him for two months. Again.
The night hunt reports have been graded correctly.
The corrections are within the rules and the juniors’ current skill level.
The suggestions are brilliant, simple, and educative.
Lan Qiren reads them again and scowls.
Life goes on, as it’s wont to. Lan Qiren teaches, meditates, gets annoyed at his aching back, and tries to avoid thinking about Wei Wuxian. Most days he almost succeeds.
Two weeks after having tea in Wangji’s house, he happens to cross the yard when a group of juniors return from their latest night hunt. They straighten up immediately and offer him perfect bows with a chorus of ”Good evening, Teacher Lan!” He nods at them and then looks at Jingyi and Sizhui trailing behind them.
”Everything went as planned, Teacher Lan,” Sizhui says.
”Which means you guys were amazing!” Jingyi adds with unnecessary cheer, making the juniors shuffle and duck their heads with pleased embarrassment. (Lan Qiren stifles a sigh.)
”Your reports are due by noon tomorrow,” Sizhui says. ”Please, make sure to be honest about both your achievements and your mistakes. Remember that the point is not to self-blame but to learn.”
One of the juniors raises a hand and when Sizhui nods, asks in a hopeful voice, ”Will Senior Wei do the grading?”
”I don’t know if he’s available,” Sizhui says and the junior’s face falls. ”Why do you ask?”
Despite himself, Lan Qiren also wants to know.
”It’s…” the junior hesitates and then adds, ”Senior Wei helps me to understand why I failed without making me feel like I’m stupid.”
”You’re not stupid, Lan Heng,” Sizhui says gently. ”Everyone learns differently. I’ll let Senior Wei know you appreciate his feedback.”
The junior bows and thanks Sizhui, and after another round of bows, the juniors are on their way. Lan Qiren nods at the young men and turns to go—he has a distinctive sense of doom he’d like to avoid.
”A-Yuan!”
…yes. That.
Despite the rule against eavesdropping, Lan Qiren pauses when he hears Sizhui’s fondly exasperated, ”What are you doing outside?” he asks.
”Is this how a prodigal son greets his old father?” Wei Wuxian asks with such theatrics it makes Lan Qiren’s teeth ache.
Sizhui huffs and then intones in the most formal voice Lan Qiren has heard outside official conferences, ”This lowly cultivator greets his esteemed, venerable elder and inquires, respectfully, why he is outside, in the cold, and without proper attire.” He pauses. ”Respectfully.”
Jingyi snorts.
Wei Wuxian makes a dismissive sound. ”I heard you were coming back so of course I had to come and see everyone was alright!”
”Does Father know you are here?” There’s a pause and then Sizhui says, sounding genuinely worried, ”Your hands are cold.”
Lan Qiren dares a peek behind him just as Wei Wuxian says, ”It’s nothing.” He raises a hand to brush Sizhui’s brow and his sleeve slips down slightly, exposing a reddish, swollen wrist. ”You know me, always with the cold hands—”
”Jingyi,” Sizhui interrupts.
Lan Qiren watches, bemused, as Jingyi rummages through his qiankun pouch and finally draws out a thick muff outlined with fur and hands it to Wei Wuxian with a triumphant air.
”What?”
Jingyi rolls his eyes (breaking several rules) and shakes the muff. ”This is a muff. It’s meant to keep your hands warm. It works better if you actually stick your hands inside so that they can be warm.”
”No, I know what a muff is—just…why?”
”Baba, your body doesn’t cope well with the cold,” Sizhui says. ”Are you even able to hold a brush?”
Lan Qiren frowns. Why wouldn’t he be? Wei Wuxian is always scribbling—only a couple of days ago Lan Qiren suffered his notations on Wangji’s correspondence.
”Of course I am!” Wei Wuxian replies, indignant.
”Let me reiterate,” Sizhui says. ”Are you able to hold a brush without pain?”
”I—”
”Oh for Heavens’ sake!” Jingyi says before taking Wei Wuxian’s wrist and shoving it into the muff. ”Stop waving your fragile hands around and stick them in already!”
”Jingyi!” Sizhui admonishes.
”You are very rude,” Wei Wuxian says, amused.
”Thank you!” Jingyi says brightly. ”It’s one of my best qualities.”
In all honesty, Jingyi is loud, brash, and rude, but also unflinchingly brave even in situations where he’d do better staying silent. He’s the most un-like Lan disciple Lan Qiren has worked with in decades and while his conduct often leaves a lot to be desired, his sense of justice and his need to defend those who aren’t able to defend themselves is commendable.
He never thought taking care of Wei Wuxian would be among Jingyi’s good deeds.
The next day, Lan Qiren pays a visit to the healers.
”Ointment to ease joint pain?” Lan Jiayi asks, raising a brow. ”I wasn’t aware you felt that old yet, Qiren.”
”It’s not for me,” he says stiffly. When Lan Jiayi keeps looking at him, he huffs and adds, ”It’s for Wei Wuxian. Apparently, his joints don’t agree with the cold.”
To his surprise, Lan Jiayi tuts. ”That boy,” she sighs and shakes her head. ”I told him he should come see me if he’s having troubles but I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. He doesn’t want to bother people.”
In Lan Qiren’s experience, Wei Wuxian does little else but bother people but he decides to not voice his disagreement aloud. Historically, contradicting Lan Jiayi (or any other healer) hasn’t been a good idea.
He asks the healers to deliver the ointment straight to the Jingshi and leaves with a small sample Lan Jiayi tucked into his sleeve despite his protests. That evening, when he rubs it onto his right shoulder and wonders how much swollen wrists must ache in the cold.
The next day, Wangji stops by before lunch. It’s nominally to deliver a revised lesson syllabus for Lan Qiren to check, but Lan Qiren suspects it has nothing to do with the syllabus or teaching in general.
Wangji sits down to have tea and gives him a long look. ”Wei Ying thanks you for the ointment,” he says.
”There’s no need for thanks,” Lan Qiren says stiffly. ”Is he—” He pauses, annoyed at himself for his hesitation. ”Is he alright?” When Wangji doesn’t reply, he continues, ”The other day when Sizhui and Jingyi returned with the juniors, I heard Sizhui ask if he can hold the brush without pain. I was not aware he was in pain to begin with.”
For a moment, Wangji gazes into his teacup. ”Wei Ying’s body is fragile,” he finally says. ”Cold makes it worse.”
Lan Qiren frowns. ”Why hasn’t he made any requests?”
Wangji looks up, looks him straight in the eyes. ”He believes his requests would go unheeded. So he makes none.”
”That’s—” Lan Qiren stops. What can he say to that? That Wei Wuxian’s belief is insulting? Outrageous? Stupid? What has Lan Qiren himself done to make Wei Wuxian feel welcome? Wangji is looking at him with a cool challenge in his eyes and suddenly Lan Qiren realizes he doesn’t want his nephew to turn away in disappointment.
”That’s an oversight that needs immediate correction,” he says, drawing satisfaction from the minute widening of Wangji’s eyes. ”I will let the kitchens and the weavers know to expect specific orders in the next couple of days.”
”Yes, Uncle,” Wangji says. His bow is more respectful than Lan Qiren has seen in…he doesn’t remember how long.
The next week when Wangji stops by, he doesn’t carry a stack of letters or lesson plans. Instead, he’s holding a bundle of cloth he hands to Lan Qiren.
”Wei Ying made this for you,” he says.
Confused, he opens the bundle. It’s a…belt? Of sorts? It’s pale blue with clumsy stitching on the middle panel and Lan Qiren honestly doesn’t know what to think about it. ”Thank you,” he says slowly. ”Please, convey my gratitude to Wei Wuxian.”
Wangji inclines his head and leaves him sitting with the mystery object, wondering what he’s supposed to do with it. The stitching design sort of reminds him of a talisman but he’s never seen anything so crude in his life. Feeling both suspicious and curious, he directs a tiny amount of spiritual energy into the stitching and flinches back when the design lights up. And then it starts to feel warm in his hands.
What on earth…?
A small piece of paper slips from the folds of the belt and he picks it up.
If you are reading this then congratulations, you’ve successfully activated the heating belt!
(Sorry, sorry, I told Lan Zhan not to tell you what this was or how to activate it but I was sure Teacher Lan would figure it out. And you did!)
The design is, as you can probably guess, for heating. It’s easy to wrap around you and it’ll be way more comfortable to lie on than hot rocks or a heated water skin. I apologize for the stitching but I never had the chance to properly learn in my previous life, and I’ve been pretty busy in this life to practice.
Let me know what you think and if there’s something you’d want to add or change in the design.
Lan Qiren stares at the note and then at the heating belt.
It’s very ugly but also very warm.
That night, he sleeps better than he’s slept in a while. The belt stays comfortably warm throughout the night and in the morning, his back isn’t stiff or aching.
To his annoyance, no matter how he tries he can’t quite make out the actual heating talisman design. For a split moment, he contemplates taking the belt apart but decides against it because he can’t be sure he can do it without compromising the talisman.
It would be a shame to lose such a practical item.
So, he picks up his brush and writes Wei Wuxian a note. After all, Wei Wuxian did ask for feedback.
Wei Wuxian,
I would recommend a change in the design to vary the amount of heat the talisman emits.
I would also recommend you take stitching lessons. The seamstresses know to expect you when the weather gets warm.
Lan Qiren
Then he picks up the heating belt and wraps it back on. (It truly is very, very comfortable.)