"Lan Zhan?"
Wei Ying's voice fills the silence of the Jingshi like water fills a cup. It is always so. Wei Ying never breaks a silence: he fills them, and this time, like so many times before, he does so by calling Lan Wangji's name. Lan Wangji does not open his eyes, even though he knows that his meditation is at its end with only that one, single calling. Although to be sure, there is no 'only' about it. It is the voice he spent sixteen years mourning, devastatingly aware that he would never hear it again; it is everything. Needless to say, hearing it now brings him right back to this room, this voice, this person.
"Mn" he acknowledges.
"Lan Zhan, I was wondering…"
There is an unusual hesitance in Wei Ying's voice, and it makes Lan Wangji open his eyes. Wei Ying is seated to his left, leaning against the low table on which they have shared so many evening meals by now, each serving the other, the gentle clink of dainty porcelain dishes blending with the swirl of tea in a newly refilled cup, and Wei Ying's laughter.
He is not laughing now, though. There is none of the usual mischief in his eyes, no teasing. His face is usually so expressive, Lan Wangji rarely finds it difficult to read him, but now he is at a loss. Wei Ying's gaze has dropped down into his cup, as though looking for something in the clear spirits he has yet to finish. Wistful, that is the word, and Lan Wangji wishes he knew why.
"You were wondering" he prompts at last.
Wei Ying presses his lips together briefly, still looking down into his cup, and then shakes his head and smiles, placing the unfinished cup on the table. Only then does he meet Lan Wangji's eyes.
"Zhiji" he says.
Warmth blooms in Lan Wangji's chest at that single word. Petals of heat opening up and spreading all over his skin, underneath it, and he cannot stop the tremble of his lips.
"Zhiji" he confirms, and has the immediate pleasure of seeing Wei Ying smile at him unabashedly.
"When did you know, Lan Zhan?" asks Wei Ying, and while he does not whisper, his words travel through the air like a summer wind through freshly green leaves or a ripple across water. They are like a caress where a hand strokes not the skin of an arm, but the fine hairs on it: incredibly light but infinitely profound. "I've tried to figure it out, but I just can't."
He leans his chin in his elbow, his elbow resting on the table, and it is the worst kind of slouching. No disciple, however young, would ever get away with such unsightly conduct in the Cloud Recesses without being punished. But Wei Ying looks relaxed and happy, and he smiles warmly up at Lan Wangji.
"Was it at one particular time? Or did I grow on you slowly?"
"Like mould" Lan Wangji cannot help but say, and is instantly rewarded by Wei Ying breaking into peals of laughter over the table.
"Mould!" he cries, gasping for breath amidst his laughs. "Like mould, he says!"
He slams his palm against the wood, not forcefully but over and over again, and hugs his ribs with the other hand. Lan Wangji could watch him laugh for days. Once, it annoyed him, how loud and unrestrained and noisy Wei Ying was. How long until he realised that it was jealousy? How long until he knew that it was longing?
Too long. Longer still until he dared put it into words.
"Oh, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying muses, looking up at him from where he is resting his forehead on the table, still out of breath and wheezing giggles. "You're so funny. Do you realise how much fun you are? Like mould, why, thank you very much!"
He leans his head in his left hand, and blinks slowly up at Lan Wangji, eyes as aglitter as the starry night sky.
"Come on, Lan Zhan" he teases. "Tell me. When did I become your zhiji? I want to know."
"You know."
Because undoubtedly, he does. Wei Ying must know.
But Wei Ying shakes his head. Slowly, but still.
"I want you to tell me" he says, and his smile is as precious as air or water. Wei Ying lost that smile long before Lan Wangji lost Wei Ying. Now he is here, smiling, and Lan Wangji can breathe freely. "I want to hear you say it."
Tell me, he says. As if there are enough words. As if the words are enough.
"Guess."
"Oh, but Lan Zhan! I can't guess, that's what I just said. I can't figure it out, and if I start guessing randomly, you'll just be upset with me and tell me how bad my memory is."
"It is" Lan Wangji says and rises from his seat to fetch some fresh tea. Any hope of further meditation tonight has long since dissipated.
"I know it is" Wei Ying says from behind him, his smile audible in his voice, as if it does not bother him that so many parts of his life are lost to him. As if there are not nights when he wakes up, cold sweat making his sleeping robe cling to his skin, on the verge of tears because yet another memory resurfaced, warped and horrifying among the shadows of the night. "I don't need you to tell me that. But I won't let you run away from this, Lan Zhan. Even if you won't answer me until we are both spirits, I will pester you for eternity until you tell me."
Lan Wangji fills the pot with fresh tea leaves and water, every motion measured and precise. It strikes him, not for the first time, how unable he is not to move so, and the realisation lingers even as he returns to the table and fills one of the cups. Only one, because Wei Ying never drinks tea after he has had even the slightest sip of alcohol, and Wei Ying's smile right then lets Lan Wangji know that Wei Ying knows that he knows this.
And that is exactly it.
To know, and be known. An endless knowing.
"Lan Zhan" says Wei Ying, and the way he speaks Lan Wangji's name is a caress, mirrored by the equally gentle hand he places on Lan Wangji's hand. "Please, share this too with me."
He cannot.
He wants to, desperately, because in knowing each other, this, surely, must be the most central piece of knowledge, but he cannot.
"You knew before I died." Wei Ying's voice is infinitely gentle, but his words are still enough to make Lan Wangji almost gasp. His eyes seek out Wei Ying's and Wei Ying holds his gaze and squeezes his hand. I am here, he says without words, those same words Lan Wangji told him so many times after he returned. I am here, because he never dared say the impossible: you are here. "We both did."
"Yes."
"And when you came to visit me at Yiling."
"Mn."
"At the discussion conference? At Phoenix mountain?"
Lan Wangji does not speak, but thankfully, Wei Ying sees the answer in his eyes. Yes, unquestionably yes.
"Before the battle at Nightless city? Before I- before I disappeared?"
Those three months. Lan Wangji still cannot bring himself to speak but even so, his mouth dries up at the thought of that time. Those three months without Wei Ying, without knowing where he was, felt like eternity. How innocent he was then.
"You knew when we were at Qishan for indoctrination" Wei Ying says, no longer asking. His words come slower now, and Lan Wangji wonders if perhaps he must struggle to find the memories. If even these memories, their memories, are lost. "You knew when we were in the Xuanwu cave."
Wei Ying's words should not be able to summon these memories so vividly, but they do. If Lan Wangji were to close his eyes right now, he could smell the humid cave walls and the stench of rotting flesh even now. See the darkness encroaching on their meagre fire, hear the shallow breaths of Wei Ying's fevered sleep, hoping they would not cease and he be left alone in the darkness.
"I knew" he says and swallows. "Long before then."
"Then when?" Wei Ying gives his hand another squeeze. "You see, Lan Zhan, I remember so many times, and looking back, I can tell now that you knew even then. But when was the first time you knew?"
In a way, Wei Ying does not need to remember. Lan Wangji remembers everything. Every detail of every meeting, every gesture, every spoken word committed to memory, because he knew there was no one else who shared them. Because the only other person who knew them was gone.
Not anymore.
"The first time we fought."
For a moment, Wei Ying is completely still and silent. Then his face breaks into an incredulous, delighted grin.
"What? Really, Lan Zhan? Are you serious? We had only just met! I broke like, what, fifteen different Lan sect rules that night. You hated me!"
"Yes" he says, answering all Wei Ying's questions at once, but as expected, that is not good enough for Wei Ying.
"Elaborate" Wei Ying says, still grinning and clearly mimicking Lan Wangji, because if Lan Wangji would rather not use two words if one is enough, Wei Ying would rather not restrain himself to two words if he could get away with ten.
"It was a draw" he says helplessly, because he knows, obviously, that this explains nothing. "You laughed."
Not only laughed. He raged, and cajoled, and bribed, and laughed again, and yet not a single step, not a single sweep of his sword ever wavered. Despite his obvious disdain of everything Lan Wangji had been taught to uphold – peace, order, dignity, rules – and his never-ceasing torrent of talk, he moved with grace and strength and delighted in the draw. He was everything Lan Wangji hated, and the only thing he would ever want again.
"You had me punished!" Wei Ying is still beaming with delight. "Over and over!"
"And myself."
He shakes his head; it is not enough, not right.
"Wei Ying" he says, and the name comes out like that one word before. Zhiji. The one who knows me. The one who carries me. The one who sees all of me. "I knew. I wanted it not to be so, but I knew."
Oh, he had tried to resist. Vainly so.
"Do you remember" he begins, "an archery competition. Before you came to Cloud Recesses?"
Wei Ying blinks, and may the gods always smile upon him, Lan Wangji can see how he struggles to recall. How few memories remain? Or how many, and how scattered are they?
"In Qishan" he supplies. "Perhaps a year before."
"I'm sorry" Wei Ying says and shakes his head, "I don't think so."
"You teased me" Lan Wangji tells him, and although it is rather a fond memory now, he knows well enough how he felt about it then. "About my forehead ribbon."
"I did?" Wei Ying frowns, and then beams again: "Yes! I remember now! I told you it was askew, even though it wasn't. And then during the competition, we stood next to each other, and your ribbon came loose and I tried to tell you, but of course you didn't believe me a second time, and it was in my face and it- it came off. In my hand."
He speaks those last three words as though in a daze, and only now does he let go of Lan Wangji's hand. No longer resting his head in his other hand, he sits up and reaches for Lan Wangji's temples and the ribbon there. Touches it now, again, without hesitation, because of course Lan Wangji allows it.
As if he could deny Wei Ying anything.
"Sacred" Wei Ying whispers, as though reciting a lesson. "Not to be touched by anyone, except for significant others."
"Not others" Lan Wangji corrects him. "Only you."
He can count on one hand the number of times anyone else had ever touched his forehead ribbon before that archery competition, all of them memorable occasions. And then, there he was, this glorious boy, radiant like the sun, who had fired dozens of arrows straight into their targets as easily as he drew breath, standing with the pale blue silk ribbon in his hand, unconsciously squeezing it as he apologised.
It wasn't on purpose. Here, you can have it back.
Lan Wangji had not wanted to touch it, afraid what it would mean if he did. Unable to speak, he had needed Xichen to come and take it back for him. After, his brother had put one strong arm around him and guided him away, shielding him from the noise of the other sect members and their shocked comments.
It doesn't have to mean anything, Xichen had told him later, when they were alone and Lan Wangji was shaking with emotion. Xichen was fastening the ribbon around his head for him, as always mindful of just what his little brother needed but was unable to ask for out loud. No matter what the legends say, or the clan traditions. Wangji, listen to me. You decide to whom you devote your heart. No one else.
Had it truly been up to him, though? He had known Wei Ying's face the minute he saw him in Cloud Recesses, because he had been unable to forget him, unable to think of anyone other than that golden, radiant, confident boy, brilliant and laughing. Everything Wei Ying said and did drew him in, every act of defiance, every joke, every casual touch he shared so easily with others, as if touching was simple. Breaking all the rules, as though that was what they were for.
"It is a reminder" he explains, because it is not about others touching the ribbon, not truly. "To regulate oneself. When one removes it, it is to let go of all regulations."
He had feared it. Feared who he was, who he might be, without the rules of his clan to keep him upright, the only constant he knew. However… he had also been curious.
"To remove it in the company of someone else… to let someone else remove it, is to allow oneself to let go. Only with the most trusted, the most beloved, can one do so."
He had not trusted himself to do that, and had not been able to imagine ever trusting anyone else enough to allow them to do it, either. But Wei Ying had never asked permission. Accident or not; he had taken Lan Wangji's ribbon and held it in his hand, and with it, Lan Wangji's heart. Later, he had always acted as though Lan Wangji's ribbon was as naturally within his right to have as anything else he desired, and of course, he had been right.
"In my clan, there is an old superstition" he says slowly. "That anyone, outside of family, who touches the ribbon is fated to become that person."
Lan Wangji had never hated him. Himself, yes, for both hoping and fearing that those superstitions would prove true, and for feeling all those forbidden emotions of jealousy and longing and desire, and for not being able to express any of it to the one person who must know, but never Wei Ying.
"I am not superstitious" Lan Wangji says. "But this, I knew, was true. Even when I fought against it, I knew."
Try as he might, Lan Wangji had been unable to resist the pull that was Wei Ying. Not because Wei Ying broke every rule, not out of some rebellious desire to follow in his footsteps, but because Wei Ying was the rule. The one truth, the new constant, brilliant and unrestrained. How could he not devote his heart, dedicate his every thought to Wei Ying's wellbeing, when Wei Ying was everything? When all Lan Wangji wanted was to spend the rest of his life at this young man's side and to see himself reflected in those glittering, laughing eyes, mortally afraid to see them ever lose their spark, how could he still fight the truth he knew in his heart?
"I surrendered" he says. "I chose."
Their gazes meet and hold. A thousand unspoken truths flow between them, the knowing, the being known, and then Wei Ying unfastens the ribbon. They both catch it as it falls, the ends of the ribbon trailing over their fingers, the heavier silver ornament shaped like swirls of clouds in Lan Wangji's hand. He tips it into Wei Ying's palm and it rests there, as though it has come home.
As though the delicate piece of silver was an extension of his body, Lan Wangji shivers at the touch. Slowly he takes one end of the ribbon and wraps it around Wei Ying's wrist, and then the other around his own. Between them, dangling ever so slightly, rest the silver clouds.
"Lan Zhan" Wei Ying breathes. "Lan Zhan, back then, I didn't realise… I didn't know."
"Zhiji" Lan Wangji confirms, and the word is a warm and gentle as ever. None of the ragged edges from all those years spent alone and mourning and desperately searching for even the slightest trace of this dear soul that is now with him, only this warmth, this eternal truth.
Zhiji. My most trusted, my confidante, my heart, mirror of my soul, shadow to my light, music of my dreams, my moon and stars, my air, my self. When I look at you, I know you better than I know even myself, and I see in you that you know me. Zhiji.
"I should have stayed true to my choice. Spoken to you sincerely. Perhaps then…"
He trails off, unable to finish. These are regrets he has carried with him for well over a dozen years now, a sorrow buried so deep in his soul that even now he cannot uproot it. There is no going back, though. No changing the past, no matter how painful the regret. No matter how many times Wei Ying tells him that he did not fail.
"Lan Zhan, oh, my Lan Zhan" Wei Ying says, and bends his head down. His lips grace the pale skin of Lan Wangji's wrist, just above the pulse point, and with his unbound hand, he lifts the silver clouds to his lips and kisses them as well. Lan Wangji trembles under those lips, those butterfly kisses.
"Tell me again" Wei Ying whispers, his lips ghosting above Lan Wangji's pulse point once more. "How long have you known? My Lan Zhan, my light-bearing lord."
"Always."
It comes out a little croaked, and maybe this is what he should have said from the start, because perhaps it truly is as easy as that. Even when he did not want to believe it, even when the conviction of his heart fought against the rules of his sect, he knew it to be true. There are no others, and could never have been. He decided long ago to whom his heart belonged, to whom he would entrust his very soul. They are Wei Ying's. He is Wei Ying's. Fully, shamelessly, unrestrainedly, he belongs to Wei Ying.
So, as it turns out, it is not only Wei Ying who uses more words than necessary. Lan Wangji is equally guilty of this fault himself, but Wei Ying does not seem to mind the excess.
"Always." Wei Ying looks up at him, still smiling, and braids their fingers together. "Let's make it 'forever', Lan Zhan."
And there it is again, that blooming warmth that leaves Lan Wangji speechless, this feeling that ties him to this man as surely as ever the ribbon around their wrists, infinite and grand.
"Yes" he says. "Always and forever."
Wei Ying does not say anything then, but there is no need. For now, all words are spoken, all truth is known, and they are all held within that one word.
Zhiji.
A/N:
Firstly, the notion of 'zhiji' presented in this fic stems entirely from this tumblr post: post/612161034673946624/all-right-guys-lets-have-a-conversation-about
If you don't already have a very firm grasp of the concept of 'zhiji', I highly recommend reading this post. Soulmates just doesn't cut it.
Secondly, those of you who have not only seen the TV series but also read the novel on which it is based, will have noticed that I am referencing an archery competition mentioned in the novel. However, as you have surely also noticed, I have changed the time of that event from one year after Wei Ying's stay at Cloud Recesses, to one year before it - and consequently also altered some of the context around it slightly. This is simply due to my wanting to use events from both chronologies, but while the timeline of the TV series is much easier to follow, it sadly doesn't allow much space for additional events.
Thirdly, I do hope you have enjoyed this story! If you did, I'd be thrilled for any comments and feedback you'd be willing to give me, as well as suggestions on how to further explore this wonderful story in future fics! Thank you for reading!