"You don't have to do this, I'm sure I can manage four teenage boys myself."
He receives only a tiny eyebrow raise for that.
"Okay maybe I can't but I'll be fine. I was a teenager once. I know what to do."
"It's precisely because I knew you as a teenager that I worry. You aren't much better than them, even now."
"Hey! I promised I'd never ride a skateboard again! How many times do I have to tell you!"
"Shufu's peonies still haven't regrown fully."
"I said I was sorry okay? Aiya!"
A knock at the door interrupts their lighthearted argument and Lan Wangji fixes him with a stare before turning to open it. Three rambunctious teenagers tumble in, conversations already fully in motion.
Sizhui follows in last, trailing behind the bickering other three. "Hi uncles! Sorry we're late, we missed the first train."
"You're two whole minutes late, Sizhui. I'm very disappointed in you." Wei Ying playfully admonishes, wagging his finger.
"I'm terribly sorry, Uncle Wei. There is no excuse for tardiness." The boy apologises with a deep bow, missing the tone of his uncle's voice completely.
"Aiya, Lan Zhan, did you not teach this boy how to read sarcasm? I was joking. There's no need for apologies." He says as he places a hand on Sizhui's shoulder.
"Wuxian is correct." A deep baritone interrupts and immediately all conversations stop. Rulan, Jingyi, and Zizhen stop talking and stare while Sizhui looks like he's about to faint.
Wei Ying, however, cannot hide his absolute delight at this development, "Did you just agree with me?!"
"Mn." is the only response and his husband giddly dances on his toes over to him. A hand caresses his face and then lips are pressed to his. In the background, all four boys groan and turn away.
"Unnnnncles!" Rulan whines, "Stop kissing! We have to go."
Hands entwined, the two adults stroll out the door after the boys.
All being said, Lan Wangji did find himself enjoying the concert. Sure it was loud and packed with people, but seeing the joy on not just the boys' faces but his husband's as well made it worth it. Wei Ying had offered him earplugs again which he had graciously accepted. The music was nothing like what he would have chosen to listen to but it was energetic and spirited. His husband had once more successfully embarrassed the kids by dancing like it was all he was put on this earth for.
Afterwards, they piled into Lan Wangji's tiny electric car. The boys, all crammed in the back, are chattering loudly about their favourite parts and songs. The drive from the arena back to the apartment was slow with all the late-night traffic flooding out of clubs and theatres but nobody seemed to mind. The city always becomes a different place at night and no matter how many times you experienced it, it never felt like enough.
Wei Wuxian turned back from where he had been engaged in the backseat conversation to face his husband. Every few seconds, Lan Zhan's eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and the boys' reflections. Etched on that face of polished jade is a smile, so full of love and contentment that it makes Wei Ying's own heart sing.
The second the apartment door opens, the boys are all piled on the large sofa, completely dead to the world. Their shoes lie haphazardly scattered across the tile floor. A tiny chuckle escapes Lan Zhan's lips as he collects them all, placing them in a neat row by the front door. They'd talked about having their own children but with four loving teenage boys in their life, where was there room?
"Wow, they really are out, aren't they." His husband comments from where he had been hanging coats. "I'll make them cōngyŏubĭng¹ in the morning. I think we still have some fresh scallions. If not, I can run to the market early. Although they may not be hungry. I've never seen someone eat as much as Jingyi. That boy must only have a stomach inside him."
"Wei Ying, come here." Lan Wangji's voice is slow and soft, interrupting the man's rambling. His lithe arms wrap tightly around Wei Wuxian from behind and squeezes him closer. They stand, intertwined and staring towards the couch for a few minutes, each daring not to speak for fear of breaking the trance. Lan Zhan presses the softest ghost of a kiss to Wei Ying's neck and the other man feels his skin warm beneath a few spoken words.
"You are the music of my soul."
Footnotes:
1) 葱油饼 (Cōngyóubing): absolutely delicious pancakes made with scallions and cooked in a hot pan