Operation Barking Dog
by Rose Thorne
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with The Untamed, and make no money writing fanfiction.
Chapter Five
The spirit at the farm, as it turned out, was not Lao Po's grandson, but her late husband, who simply wanted her to know the location of his stash of tael. He'd been saving to take her on a trip to the city where they met when he died suddenly, and in the intervening years she had not stumbled upon the hoard, and he grew more and more frustrated that he couldn't tell her its location so her last years could be comfortable.
He didn't have any resentment once the money was found, simply wanted his wife to know he loved her and hoped they would be together in their next life. Then he gave Lan Wangji a list of repairs the small cottage needed and asked him to help.
Mice are getting into her millet from the hole in the back of the cupboard, he relayed through the guqin. And there's a leak in the roof near her bed. Makes the whole house damp. Unhealthy.
Wei Ying was, of course, excited to help, flashing a bright grin as they got a list of supplies that were needed and walked the several li into town to retrieve them. Though the elderly widow had pressed part of the stash of tael into his hand to pay for it, Lan Wangji had no intention of using it, and he would ensure it was returned to her later when Wei Ying had her distracted.
The remainder of the morning was spent listening to Wei Ying chatter about everything and nothing as they worked on repairing the little cottage, and Lan Wangji endured his zhiji stripping to his inner robes atop the roof as he repaired it, nails poking from his mouth as he worked. Passers-by stopped to help for a bit, even, given that Lao Po was well-loved as an elder in the community and no one had known of the disrepair—and when they heard of her late husband having stayed behind to try to help her, word spread.
Before long, nearby families were arriving with freshly-made baozi and other foods for lunch, the husbands helping tackle the different tasks based on what they were most skilled at, and the work was finished by early afternoon, turning the gathering into a picnic in Lao Po's flower garden, waning in the last of autumn.
As this went on, well-wishers had him pass their love along and asked questions—one even asking for the recipe for the sweet wine the community had been missing since his passing. Lan Wangji dutifully translated the recipe, and even Wei Ying pulled out a piece of parchment from his sleeve to write it down. He would need to remember to buy a nice variety of fruit when they returned to Gusu, though he would perhaps have Wei Ying brew it beyond the barrier to the Yunshen Buzhichu.
Maybe, if Shufu ceased harassing Wei Ying.
In the end, Lan Wangji translated the spirit's last loving thoughts to Lao Po and hers to him, to and from guqin, his ears burning at how closely they resembled his own thoughts, particularly during the years of Wei Ying's death. When they were ready, he and Wei Ying played 'Anxi' together to liberate Lao Po's husband, so that he might rejoin the cycle of reincarnation and perhaps would meet her again in their next lives.
As sometimes happened in these cases, Lao Po's grief was refreshed by having had the opportunity to speak with him and yet having to let him go again as well. She thanked them profusely through her tears, falling over herself trying to repay them, and the locals who were still present, many of them her children and grandchildren, took over to tend to her grieving. They, too, were grateful, showering them with praise that was sometimes embarrassing in nature. Wei Ying never took praise or being thanked easily, and Lan Wangji was for once grateful for it, as he managed to extricate them from the household as courteously as possible.
By the time they headed back to the Hu farm, the sun was starting to set, glancing beautifully off the multicolored leaves of the trees surrounding the road, and Wei Ying wondered aloud if there was a stream nearby where he could bathe.
"There's nothing like a nice cool stream after working up a sweat," he said, sounding contented with the day, and in the next moment he was crashing through the undergrowth by the road, having spotted one.
Lan Wangji froze for a moment, almost not daring to think—surely Wei Ying didn't intend to strip? Though he had been accused of prudishness in the past, each time he saw expanses of Wei Ying's skin his body reacted, and the last thing he wanted was to chase away what they had with his desires; his loss of control at the Baifeng Shan hunt was still, so many years later, a source of great shame, and he feared Wei Ying's disgust if he were to ever learn the truth.
But he couldn't help but follow Wei Ying, always, having failed to do so in his first life, his failure leading to his death. He knew Wei Ying didn't blame him, no matter how much he blamed himself, but he had promised when against all odds Wei Ying lived again that he would follow him to the ends of the earth if necessary, without hesitation.
So of course Wei Ying stripped to just his trousers, the only strip of cloth left on his body aside from the ribbon in his hair, and Lan Wangji endured, clutching Bichen like a lifeline, his eyes carefully averted—though that did nothing to stop his ears from burning at just the knowledge of being in the vicinity of a nearly-nude Wei Ying.
The last time this had happened had been the cave with the Xuanwu, with Wei Ying's first body. Though Lan Wangji had seen him in this new body in various states of disarray, particularly after injuries, this was different, in that the focus wasn't now on healing, but recreation.
Given that he had once bitten Wei Ying in an attempt to confess, he wasn't certain he trusted himself.
"Aren't you hot, Lan Zhan?"
He managed to hum a denial, telling himself it was true even as his ears burned. In one sense it was—his body was not overheated, his jindan keeping it at an ideal temperature.
Wei Ying accepted the answer without comment, going back to his chatter, splashing a bit as he bathed. He spoke of where he learned to repair things—having done odd jobs as a street kid, as a disciple's duties, rebuilding Lianhua Wu after the war, in Luanzang Gang…
He trailed off in the middle of recounting something involving Uncle Six and an argument over roof structure, and Lan Wangji turned toward him unthinkingly.
His eyes were unerringly drawn to the muscles that had formed in his still-lithe body, it's emaciation having been carefully corrected in the time since it became his, healthy and sturdy in a way that reminded Lan Wangji in some ways of his first body, though he no longer had the height or build he had once glimpsed in Muxi Shan before they fought the false Xuanwu so long ago. He also didn't have the Wen brand scar. It was good to see him healthy.
Sitting in water halfway up his chest, Wei Ying's expression was slack, his eyes unfocused, lost in memory, in grief.
"Wei Ying?"
Lan Wangji watched as he jerked minutely, blinking to awareness, his expression twisting into a forced smile.
"I'm fine, Lan Zhan."
He was not, Lan Wangji knew, but he didn't know how to address the issue in a way that wouldn't cause Wei Ying to shut down, shuttering his emotions in self-defense. He had never had the time to grieve any of what he had lost in his first life, too busy trying to survive and be strong for the sake of others.
The rest of Wei Ying's bath was silent aside from the splashing of water, and before long his zhiji was dressed and ready to continue to the Hu farm. Lan Wangji listened to him as his chatter started up again, now about talismans for repelling resentful energy and their use for the common people to prevent problems before they arose and save lives.
Hu Ning rushed to them when they appeared on the road, smiling widely, the runtling in her arms, talking about how she heard they helped Lao Po, which meant word had spread in the community and others might come to them for help. That would simplify matters quite a bit when it came to taking care of any spirits or yao for this area.
"Mama's cooking a feast to thank you," she finished as they reached the farm.
She held the puppy out to Wei Ying, as though to encourage him to take it, and when he balked Lan Wangji stepped forward to take the little creature, which fit in the palm of his hand, though that was no measure given that he had large hands. It was awake, but its eyes were still shut, and it nuzzled around the front of his hanfu as though looking for a way in.
This seemed to embolden Wei Ying a bit, who stepped closer and tentatively touched the puppy, which immediately leaned into the touch, seeking warmth—and though he flinched back at first, Wei Ying recovered to pet it more firmly. Lan Wangji was gratified that his zhiji felt the puppy was safer if he was holding it, an indication of trust he would do everything not to betray again.
The puppy licked at Wei Ying's fingers, and he giggled uneasily and pulled his hand away as though burned, but quickly moved back in to touch it again as though challenging himself, this time away from the mouth.
"She's probably hungry again—she sucks fingers when she's hungry," A-Ning offered. "Baba said she's a girl puppy."
Lan Wangji put a finger in front of the puppy's mouth, and she did just that, suckling as though to feed. Wei Ying looked at him wide-eyed, clearly shocked he would put his finger at risk, his hand stilling.
"No teeth," he reminded, "so she cannot bite."
He wasn't sure Wei Ying's phobia was susceptible to logic—fear didn't tend toward the logical, after all—but his zhiji surprised him, seeming to come to a resolution, and held out his cupped hands for the puppy. His body language implied he was resisting the urge to run, tense and shifting minutely even as he beckoned for the puppy. Lan Wangji waited a beat, removing his finger from her mouth, then when he didn't balk gently transferred the tiny creature to him, keeping his own hands close in case Wei Ying's fear overtook him.
Though Wei Ying's feet shifted, almost dancing briefly beneath him, he kept his hands steady, only shaking slightly as he drew the puppy closer to cradle her, Lan Wangji stepping closer in case he was needed.
"Oh, she's so light," he said after a moment, his voice distant with amazement, then jerked and choked as the puppy found his fingers and pulled one into her mouth.
Lan Wangji drew closer, reaching out with one hand to steady Wei Ying's hands.
"She really doesn't have teeth!" he murmured, looking up at him in wonder.
But Wei Ying was shaking a little in distress, trying to be brave through the fear, but at his limit—Lan Wangji could practically feel the emotions he was contending with, including frustration at his own fear of the tiny pup. The slight edge of hysteria in his voice didn't escape his notice, either. A cold sweat was breaking across his brow.
He wasn't willing to let his zhiji overwhelm himself, and so he gently took the puppy from him and handed her back to A-Ning. Wei Ying made no move to stop him, letting out a soft breath of relief, in fact, assuring Lan Wangji he had made the correct decision. This alone, after all, was major progress, and spoke of the possibility of success in at least lessening his fear of dogs.
"I'll go feed her now," A-Ning announced, then scampered back toward the cottage.
Lan Wangji wasn't certain Wei Ying was in much state to face others, so he handed him the gourd of water he had refilled at the stream to give an excuse to linger.
He couldn't help but notice the tension in his zhiji, even with the puppy out of sight, though he couldn't be sure it was entirely fear—very possibly it could be frustration at being afraid of even such a tiny, toothless thing.
"We will stay as long as necessary," he said; after all, they were traveling at their own pace across the jianghu.
Wei Ying's smile looked fragile in the waning sunlight, but he nodded after taking a sip of water. Lan Wangji felt awkward, uncertain of what else he could do or say to reassure him, his desire to comfort him awkward as he could only think of what he would like to do: sweep Wei Ying into his arms, which would be inappropriate. He had confessed his feelings to Wei Ying over a decade ago—whether Wei Ying had been cognizant at the time or not, he wouldn't assume—and he refused to cause him any discomfort over them now. The urge to hold him and reassure him was no less strong than it ever had been, but he would focus on measures Wei Ying would welcome.
When Wei Ying had sufficiently recovered, they headed to the farmhouse, where Hu-furen—who balked a little at the formal term of address—greeted them kindly and had one of the other children show them where to wash up before dinner.
Dinner involved meat seasoned well with a spice factor well within Lan Wangji's tolerance level, which Wei Ying told him, knowing his lack of familiarity with meat, was pork belly, mixed with bok choy in a savory sauce, accompanied by a range of vegetable dishes and millet.
The family spoke during the meal, and Wei Ying accommodated and explained his adherence to his clan rule of no speaking during meals, then fielded the questions the Hu family had about the ghost, something that eventually shifted into a discussion of funerary practices among the gentry clans.
"The cultivation clans don't burn joss and such, since everyone has a soul-calming ceremony as children, with the goal of a peaceful transition across the bridge into their next life," he explained. "But people like me, who weren't born to the clans and entered too late, didn't get them, and it's not unheard of for a cultivator with a soul-calming ceremony to die with enough resentment to linger anyway."
Lan Wangji wasn't terribly familiar with the funerary practices of the common people, but Wei Ying was absolutely correct about the cultivation clans. With minimal ability to deal with resentful spirits themselves, it certainly made sense that the common people would adopt these practices, often seen as mere superstition by the gentry, to try to keep their dead at rest without soul-calming ceremonies available. For them, it was a matter of practicality, appeasing potentially restless spirits through the burning of joss and other offerings to assure them they were not forgotten.
It lent a new context to the reaction of the junior disciples of the more rural sects to A-Qing's death in Yi Cheng, certainly, who would know the girl likely had no soul-calming ceremony and would wish to treat her spirit as she would expect to be treated. That her injured spirit was traveling with Song Lan and the remnants of Xiao Xingchen's soul would have meant little in the face of ritual tradition.
He could not help but feel uncomfortable with the memory of Wei Ying asking if he had burned joss for him, said in a joking tone that he knew now may have been meant to cover his true feelings, as to whether he had burned joss for him. Lan Wangji knew Wei Ying had not had a soul-calming ceremony, and yet he had burned no joss, left no offerings in the years of his death, though he had sought his zhiji's spirit, hoping to liberate him if he was a resentful spirit, knowing all others would seek to eliminate him. Now he wondered if he should have done both.
"But Lao Ye wasn't a resentful spirit, they said—he just wanted to help Lao Po," one of the children protested.
"Yes, but the longer he stayed and his last wishes were ignored, the more restless he would become, and that restlessness turns to resentment and creates resentful spirits of benign ones," Wei Ying told them gently. "So it was important that Hanguang-Jun was here to help liberate him."
Once the meal was over, the family returned to the last of their chores before full dark fell, and Wei Ying insisted they visit Xiao Pingguo in the small stable. Lan Wangji brought out an apple for the grumpy donkey, who somehow managed to be just as ill-tempered as when he was being ridden on the road, though it clearly appreciated the apple.
Wei Ying chattered the entire time, sometimes scolding Xiao Pingguo for seeking more apples by nosing at their clothing, and he seemed much recovered from his earlier near-panic with the dog—but Lan Wangji knew that could easily be a sort of mask his zhiji tended to wear in an attempt to hide his struggles.
He quieted when they found A-Ning sitting under a tree near the shed feeding the puppy when they returned. She looked up at them with a smile as she placed the milk-soaked rag in the pup's mouth.
"You don't have to hold him," she said, "just be near and watch him, and maybe that will help too?"
The suggestion was intelligent, and told Lan Wangji she had also noticed Wei Ying's reaction to holding the puppy.
"Good idea, A-Ning," Wei Ying said after a moment, then adjusted his robes to sit beside her.
The girl looked happy at that, shifting her attention back to the runt, which was completely focused on the milk-soaked rag, making little needy grunts as she suckled. A-Ning kept the pup on her skirts instead of the ground, which was no longer sun-heated, now too cold for her.
Lan Wangji commented upon it, and A-Ning complained of how hard it was to keep the puppy warm overnight.
"Mama has to heat the water bottle in the night a few times. I'm not allowed to use the fire. I'm too little."
She sounds particularly put out over the last bit, at that age where children felt older than they were.
"I could make a talisman to keep it warm all night," Wei Ying offered, already pulling talisman paper and a wrapped bit of cinnabar. "Let your mom know and bring the water bottle here so I can get it right."
A-Ning immediately handed the puppy to Lan Wangji and scampered off. The pup let out a little distressed noise at the jostling, but settled easily against his fingers when he curled them around her.
"Aiya, all animals love you, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying commented absently as he started writing his talisman. "Who can blame them!"
Lan Wangji made a noise of acknowledgment, watching him work with the talisman, writing one that was similar to ones he'd seen him use to keep bath water warm, though this one looked like it was meant to be less powerful—it made sense, a water bottle much smaller, and contained beside. Watching Wei Ying work on talismans never got old, allowing a glimpse into his brilliant mind, and Lan Wangji was again nearly overcome with with gratitude that his zhiji was back in this world, that his genius could shine and they could travel like this and bring light to the dark corners of the jianghu.
Almost too soon, A-Ning reappeared from the homestead, carrying a water bottle made of sturdy leather, corked to keep the water inside and designed for use as a portable water container as well as a warm compress for injury.
Wei Ying inspected it when she handed it to him, humming thoughtfully and murmuring about the material as he did, before setting it aside and examine the talisman he had created. He used his cultivation, the tiny almost-core that had been Mo Xuanyu's, to remove several characters from the talisman. Wei Ying had worked with the basis of cultivation in his new body until a brand new jindan quickened in his dantian, something he had confessed, fighting emotion, he thought he would never feel again—in some ways he hadn't, not in one life, anyway, not in his original body.
The absent humming turned to a familiar tune, and Lan Wangji's heart throbbed briefly. He knew Wei Ying found the song a comfort, and he was glad of it, but it reminded him of why he wrote it, a love unrequited, a love he could never let go of, one he would and could gladly suffer if it meant he could walk beside his zhiji again, fulfilling their youthful promise as they had never been able to in his first life.
It hurt, but like with the whip scars that sometimes pained him, he let himself feel it and how it differed from the endless pain he had endured those thirteen years.
Wei Ying rewrote several characters on the talisman, shifting the focus and target a bit with the expertise of a master, and then looked at the finished product consideringly.
"I don't want to accidentally ruin the water bottle—what do you think, Lan Zhan?"
Lan Wangji did not have the expertise with talisman work to make a true judgment—some of what Wei Ying had managed in the past had seemed impossible to him, but that was what Wei Ying was good at.
"I will purchase a replacement if necessary," he said instead, going for reassurance.
The town up the road was large enough to have a decent night market, and he could easily fly the several li to it, even in the twilight, if needed.
Wei Ying smiled brightly at that, and affixed the talisman to the leather before activating it, and then after several seconds he let out a hum of satisfaction.
A-Ning took it when he handed it to her, her eyes going wide with wonder.
"It's so warm! Just from that paper?"
"It's more than paper," he said, laughing. "It's a talisman, and I'll show your ma and ba how to activate and deactivate it so it'll last for a bit."
He kept talking, about how it used ambient qi and didn't require a caster's qi, A-Ning listening intently.
"So it's magic," she summed up, which was both accurate and not, but acceptable for a non-cultivator.
Wei Ying just smiled and nodded, used to a more simplistic worldview from mediocre people than Lan Wangji, no matter how much time he had devoted to going where the trouble was; he typically spoke little to the non-gentry except to gain information on cases, while his zhiji was much more social. A-Ning placed the water bottle next to Lan Wangji, and he gently lowered the puppy to it. She made little contented noises as she finished sucking the milk from the rag, and he glanced to make sure they didn't bother Wei Ying, who was much closer to her now—but he watched her with a gentle smile.
"Yes, you have a nice warm bed, don't you, xiao ta?" he cooed softly, his eyes sparkling like moonlight in the near-dark.
It was perhaps the most relaxed Lan Wangji had ever seen him around a dog, a possible indication that his cynophobia could at least be weakened.
"That's a good name," A-Ning commented as she took the rag to soak up more milk and put it back in the puppy's mouth, the warmth keeping her content enough that she didn't protest. "She can be Xiao Ta. She'll grow up to be playful and energetic like an otter!"
Lan Wangji wasn't certain the puppy's survival was guaranteed yet, though Wei Ying's invention had potentially made it more likely, but he said nothing, simply watching as Wei Ying blinked in surprise and then smiled widely.
"Well, I did say she looks like a baby otter, so it's an apt name."
He reached out, hesitating a few inches from the puppy and then petting down her back twice before pulling back.
"Feels like a baby otter too, with all that downy baby fur."
His voice had a distant quality, as though mentally he was back on the riverbank invading otter nests as a child, but that was the sort of distance that didn't worry Lan Wangji, unconnected to negative memories; at times when Wei Ying's thoughts turned to dark memories, it felt like losing him all over again, and he was compelled by a deep need to intervene.
A voice called from the cottage for A-Ning, so she picked up Xiao Ta and tucked her into her robes, heading off with the warm water bottle and bowl of milk in her hands, leaving them alone in the darkness.
The moon overhead was a sliver, just past the new moon, barely adding light to that of the vast river of stars that stretched across the sky. Lan Wangji was reminded of various times in the past, when the light of a full moon illuminated them—their first meeting, especially.
Wei Ying's smile was contented as he watched the sky, his posture utterly relaxed as he sat sprawled comfortably under the tree.
"I'm glad we were able to help Lao Po and let her speak to her husband," Wei Ying commented. "It's always nice when a spirit lingers out of love rather than resentment."
It didn't happen too often, mostly because by the time a sect was contacted, ghosts had become resentful and were lashing out. By that point, they were sometimes beyond communication, or their final wishes could not be honored as they wished, and at times, generations had passed so everyone they knew was gone.
"The joss…" Lan Wangji murmured without meaning to, and Wei Ying looked at him in some confusion before his eyes widened in understanding.
"I wouldn't have received it, so don't worry about it. I don't know where I was, but I wasn't resentful, Lan Zhan—I knew what my fate would be, the moment I saved the Wens and maybe even before that, but I had to do the right thing."
Wei Ying's smile turned a little sad.
"I just wish shijie and the Peacock hadn't died along with all of us."
He only rarely talked of this, of the deaths of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, though Lan Wangji knew it still weighed on him, Wei Ying's only regrets about his first life—they had been terrible accidents, he knew, backlash from the defense against attacks on Wei Ying, and nothing he could say would alleviate his guilt. Mostly Wei Ying seemed to distract himself from memories of his first life, seeking to keep busy and active, but moments like this, in the quiet darkness of twilight, those memories bubbled to the surface.
"I looked for you," left his mouth before he realized it, a secret he meant to never reveal.
Wei Ying blinked at him, eyes wide, waiting for a moment, but he seemed to realize he wouldn't speak further.
"While I was dead?" he asked, but didn't pause for Lan Wangji to answer. "Did you think I'd survived?"
Lan Wangji could feel his throat go tight at the question; in his darkest moments, trapped in denial, he had often thought that there was no way someone as bright and good as Wei Ying could be gone from this world, and he must be trapped in a terrible nightmare—surely he would wake and Wei Ying would be alive and safe at Lianhua Wu, the war having been another fabrication of his subconscious. And when the denial had faded, he wished it had not, for even the delusion was better than the reality. His only balm then was in the rescued A-Yuan, the last remnant he had of Wei Ying, raising him one of the only things he could do for his zhiji.
Aside from seek his spirit.
"If you were resentful, others would not seek to liberate you," he finally managed, swallowing the remembered grief, bitter like bile.
A cool breeze was picking up, carrying the scent of rain, an indication of a possible overnight storm, but he made no move toward shelter, his attention on Wei Ying, whose expression was difficult to decipher.
He didn't know whether Wei Ying knew of the jianghu's failed attempts to summon his spirit so that it could be destroyed—though knowing of the Jin's rot, it was more likely they'd do something worse, enslave his spirit somehow to force it to do their demonic bidding. Fortunately, Lan Wangji had still been in seclusion and hadn't been forced to participate the first time, and Lan Xichen had made excuses for him at the subsequent attempts, likely wisely recognizing that it would be dangerous for the jianghu if anyone tried to force him to participate.
Given how often Lan Wangji had spent the last decade with his self-control frayed and close to snapping, Xiongzhang's decision was wise. Though it was just as likely he worried that, if they were successful in summoning Wei Ying's spirit, Lan Wangji would go against the orthodoxy to save what remained of him.
It was very good for the jianghu that they were unsuccessful.
"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying said softly after a moment. "You really are too good."
No, he wanted to protest, but his mouth would not move. He was but a flicker in the face of Wei Ying's goodness.
Wei Ying stood before he could find his voice, batting the dust off his robes.
"It's almost your bedtime, and it smells like it might rain," he said brightly, offering his hand. "We should turn in."
Once, a lifetime ago, Lan Wangji would ignore the proffered hand, but he didn't hesitate to take it, let Wei Ying use the power of his new fledgling jindan to pull him onto his feet, and followed him to the storage shed without comment.
Usually Wei Ying stayed up longer than hai shi, fiddling with talismans or other cultivation projects that caught his interest. It was common for Lan Wangji to fall asleep to him humming softly and working to the light of a candle or talisman. Often the song he hummed was one intimately familiar, and it was a joy to fall asleep to the sound of it in his beloved's voice, soothing him into peaceful dreams.
Tonight, Wei Ying readied for bed with him, and joined him on the sleeping mat, ready for rest. Today had been full of more than just travel, including physical labor that Mo Xuanyu's body was unused to, something Wei Ying was slowly rectifying. Lan Wangji was certain facing his fear of dogs added to his exhaustion, as well.
They lay quietly, shoulder to shoulder under the blankets, the too-quiet dark pregnant with what was unsaid between them, almost oppressive. Drops of rain began to fall, a gentle xilihuala against the roof, but that only seemed to heighten the lack of all other sound.
"I wasn't a resentful spirit," Wei Ying said again finally, breaking the tension. "I don't know what I was, aside from resting. When Mo Xuanyu summoned me, I wasn't really happy about it. I wanted to go back to sleep. You know how I hate mornings."
Despite the attempt at humor, it felt like a confession. Wei Ying had not wished to come back, wished to stay dead, in fact. That understanding was almost suffocating. Lan Wangji wanted to enfold him in his arms and hold him close, longed strangely for the nights just after Wei Ying's return when he slept sprawled atop him pretending to be Mo Xuanyu. Instead he contented himself wrapping gentle fingers around Wei Ying's slender wrist, his heartbeat fluttering under his skin. It felt like too much and not enough simultaneously.
"I am glad you stayed," Lan Wangji managed after a moment, unable to say everything he wished to.
Wei Ying smiled at him in the dark, visible only because he was so close against his side, the warmth of him welcome.
"Me too, Lan Zhan. See you tomorrow."
"En. Tomorrow."
Lan Wangji lay awake in the dark longer than he was accustomed to, listening as Wei Ying's breathing evened into sleep, feeling his heartbeat under the pads of his fingertips. Those rhythms combined with the sound of the rain steadily falling on the roof, the gentle rumbling of thunder, and eased him into dreams.
Anxi = Rest
Baifeng Shan = Phoenix Mountain
hai shi = the period of 9-11pm
jianghu = cultivation world
jindan = golden core
Lianhua Wu = Lotus Pier
Luanzang Gang = Burial Mounds
Muxi Shan = Muxi Mountain
Xiao Pingguo = Lil Apple
Xiao Ta = Lil Otter
xilihuala = the onomatopoeia sound of falling rain
Yi Cheng = Yi City
Yunshen Buzhichu = Cloud Recesses
My updates are going to take longer, more than likely.
Mental health isn't good. My 18yo cat died in August, and while I adopted two kittens and love them I miss her terribly. I'm also looking at a possible career change, or at the very least getting a job somewhere else, requiring a move this summer either way. It's become painfully clear that my current place of employment has quiet fired me, and I'm tired of being treated like a peon and being underpaid. And a bunch of other stuff I've been just pushing down for years. It's like I've been keeping going for so long on autopilot.
Please bear with me. It's a time of change.