[It's in Wang Ji's nature to always be prepared in one way or another. Being unprepared and comfortable is what allowed Wen Clan the opening to strike. Never again.
That said, he does not and would not expect the same of Wu Xian, but he also has ways of surprising Wang Ji.
However, this occasion is not one of them. Wang Ji draws open the door, albeit apprehensive to the reason for Wu Xian's reply, but finds nothing amiss, no enemies, only Wu Xian dressed- or, rather undressed- in crimson. The color complements Wu Xian's skin, warms pale cheeks, and brings life into cheeks that seem to have dulled in the past several months.
To see him in red is always a treat, but Wang Ji does not pause to stare. Instead, he closes the door behind him and continues on to unshoulder his pack. With a careful hand, he unwraps the white robe on his other shoulder, careful to keep the filigree from catching and pulling, and holds it out for Wu Xian.]
[ one day maybe Wei Ying will pick up some of that preparedness. or at the very least be gifted with the ability to foresee where his choices might lead him. it wasn't that he was truely reckless (okay, he was), it was more of a need to deviate from things when he saw something less than favourable happening just off the path and-- how was he supposed to just stand there and let things happen?
simply put, he couldn't. and he didn't.
which is what lands him in times like this, tired to the marrow of his bones and trying to drown out the echoes in his head from the shadows, asking to borrow a white outer layer from Lan Zhan of all cultivators so he can attend a funeral of a man that was so kind to him and Yuan when he didn't have to be.
the smile on his face is bright, as it always is, but fades into something awed when Lan Zhan holds out the robe to him gently.
it's gorgeous. and so much more than what he expected. Wei Ying almost hesitated to reach out to touch it, fingertips ghosting along the fabric gently as he stares at Lan Zhan.]
Lan Zhan, this-- you should wear this one. It suits you. [ gorgeous. elegant. ]
[Once upon a time, Wang Ji thought those smiles to be insincere, handed out to every passerby, to cats and dogs the same as him. Over the years, however, Wang Ji has learned of this smile that Wu Xian wears now, that he only wears for him. He can't help the small rise of his lips in response, the thrill that dances through his chest like autumn leaves. Waiting for Wu Xian to touch the robe drags on and for an instant, Wang Ji wonders if he will need to thrust the robe upon Wu Xian himself.
And it seems that may still be an option.
Wang Ji shakes his head, slow and solemn, looking down at the robe and then back up to Wu Xian. In his opinion, they match each other. From the playful touches of spring flowers embroidered in the silk to the reflective beading dividing the robe in half, it is not Wang Ji's style. He can count the number of times he's worn it on one hand and still have fingers left over.]
Lan Zhan, it is not hard to change an outer robe, I could help you. We could have you into this in but a moment.
[ there is a budding smile in the corner of his lips as he speaks, fingers still touching the fabric gently but his eyes on Wangji (softly, reverently, a look that only gets bestowed upon Lan Wangji). he can see the care, the detail, in this robe. it is more opulent than he might usually expect of the Second Jade, but also-- Wei Ying would love to see him in it.
and yet here he is, offering it up to him.
Wei Ying sighs, fingers falling away from the fabric as he gives Wangji a pointed look. ] You should wear this, I can wear the one you have on now. Come on, it won't take long to change, besides I still have to fix my hair.
[Opulence is what Wang Ji doesn't overly like about the garment, but his desire matches Wu Xian's: to see the other bathed in the silks and filigrees. He is not so willing to step down from his decision.]
Dress. I will fix your hair.
[Which is entirely too intimate an act on its own, but he could make the excuse that they are trying to get to Yiling by the afternoon.
there is a beat where it is clear that the offer has rendered Wei Ying speechless, mouth opening and closing without a sound spilling out. Wei Ying isn't sure why but the thought of Lan Zhan's fingers in his hair, the thought of him taking the time to brush it out and help him put it up has his breath catching behind his teeth and his heart skipping double time.]
Are you-- sure? [ it is quiet, so very quiet for Wei Ying, like he is afraid of speaking and making Lan Zhan think on his offer again. like he is afraid of scaring this moment away.]
[Already Wang Ji has spotted a comb near the wash basin and fetches it in a heartbeat. See. No reason to have Wu Xian compromise their timing when something as solemn as a funeral is at stake. Right?
Of course. There are no ulterior motives here. None what so ever.
Gesturing to one of the pillows on the floor,] Sit.
[ compromised timing. right. that was the point of all this. not--- not the warmth that the thought brings him, or the way he wants this to be a daily thing, or how he wants... well how he just wants in general. it is an unclear thing, this desire in him, but he knows it burns brighter and strong when Lan Zhan is near.
it is telling as well how he sits himself down so easily, makes sure the white robe is uncreased against the bed before he sits on the pillow that was gestured to and settles without complaint, back to Lan Zhan and his red ribbon in his hands.
without thinking, Wei Ying closes his eyes and exhales slowly as if to center himself before murmuring: ] It doesn't need to be anything fancy...
[Wang Ji waits for Wu Xian to sit before he, too, takes a centering breath to steady the pounding in his chest. He's never held anyone else's hair in his hands before, but he styles his own hair well enough and with more complicated knots than Wu Xian. With the same reverence he held the robe, Wang Ji accepts the red ribbon.
He doesn't respond, but he doesn't feel the need to. Instead, he focuses on the task of gently running the teeth of the jade comb through Wu Xian's tresses, pale green through deep black. In one small section at a time, Wang Ji teases out knots with gentle pulls, trying not to pull Wu Xian's beautiful hair more than needed.
It's. strangely calming. Like playing his guqin. The glide of stone on hair whispers through the air, a melody of its own weaving and wandering infinitely.]
[ being still is not a strong point for Wu Xian. neither is being quiet, or particularly observant when it came to things that were right in his face. he still is terrible at the latter, obviously, but while Wang Ji is combing through his hair, has his fingers against his scalp, Wu Xian is still and silent. he feels oddly centred, peaceful for the first time in a long time. there are no voices clamouring for his attention, no smoke and shadows under his skin, nothing to worry about at all. just Lan Zhan and the feeling of being cared for.
Wu Xian shivers a little, chin tipping down as the comb passes over the base of his neck, gooseflesh breaking out across his skin.
still, he keeps quiet but for a low exhale and a nearly imperceptible shift to get closer to Wang Ji. ]
[If Wang Ji truly worried about the time before, he doesn't any more. The world melts away into nothing but him, Wu Xian, and the playful melody dancing through his ears. The stars slow, the earth stops, the sun holds in the sky, the entire universe stills and quiets for them. For this moment, the frantic beat of Wang Ji's heart feels like it will slow into nothing with the rest of time, to mirror the whisper of the comb.
Jade teeth inch up the length of Wu Xian's hair, leaving smooth hair behind. When the comb reaches Wu Xian's scalp, Wang Ji pauses to run his fingers through the longer sections to check for any knots that missed his first pass.]
[ pain is the last thing that Wu Xian is in right now. he is so calm, but there is also something warm and bright gathering in the core of him. part of him is aware he should focus on that, maybe look at it a little closer to figure out just what is going on, but he doesn't want to think. not right now.]
Mn.
[ eyes fluttering closed a little, Wei Ying smiles softly and shakes his head minutely. he wants to say more but his tongue feels too heavy. he tries again, voice quiet and a little warm around the edges as he speaks.]
[Wang Ji doesn't want to hurt Wu Xian at all, not now or ever. He hopes the peace settling in the room with them also eases any ails or sadness Wu Xian may have carried in with him, allow them to dissipate with the gentle breeze. For this moment, all other matters can wait at the door.
Wang Ji returns to combing higher up this time, each stroke deliberate but careful not to tug if the teeth meet resistance. He brushes through the hair of Wu Xian's scalp with his fingers first and then the comb, to find the trouble spots early. And, perhaps, to enjoy the briefest of contact with Wu Xian. It will soon be done and he doesn't want to waste the opportunity.]
[ keep this up and there is no way that Wei Ying will even remember that they are supposed to be going to a funeral. he won't remember that there is a world beyond the feeling of Lan Zhan's fingers against his scalp and the soft sounds of jade against his hair. Wei Ying lets his head tip forward a little more, eyes fluttering closed as he lets a soft noise slip free.
hopefully that doesn't stop Lan Zhan, because this is the most at peace Wei Ying has felt in months and he honestly does not want it to stop.]
[All things must end in time, but that doesn't mean that Wang Ji won't enjoy those he can while he can. Perhaps, though, they can revisit this task in the future if it brings Wu Xian peace. He would do anything to bring Wu Xian some kind of peace.
When his fellow tilts his head back and a soft sound escapes, Wang Ji's lips quirk minutely. He's never seen Wu Xian like this, so quiet and pleased and vulnerable, outside of sleeping. It's- nice to see this side of him. And Wang Ji respects that vulnerability with a ginger touch when working along the hairline. He smoothes his fingers along Wu Xian's forehead, just below the shoots of hair, to keep them from pulling when he combs through them.]
[ Lan Zhan has never seen Wei Ying like this because he has never been like this before with anyone. well, only Yanli has ever seen him so vulnerable, so without his usual defences. but his bright smile and sharp tongue are nowhere to be found right now, instead, he is content to just exist and feel. and he feels-- oh fuck he feels a lot.
but he can't really concentrate on that, because then Lan Zhan's hands are pressing against his skin a little harder and Wei Ying is positively melting at the sensations. his back presses against Lan Zhan's legs and he knows he should move, he honestly does, but it all feels so mind-numbingly good he can't bear to move.
so he doesn't. relaxes with a quiet sigh of 'Lan Zhan' and a soft shiver.]
[Perhaps they should have stopped before they started. Perhaps Wangji should not have insisted. Several principles have been broken, especially now with Wei Ying leaning against him, but he doesn't stop. This comforts Wangji as well, to see Wei Ying as quiet and peaceful as this. If only all of their time together could be spent like this.
Alas, they do have plans.
The comb slows as it traces its last few paths through Wei Ying's hair, as Wangji attempts to draw out the last moments of peace and quiet, but soon comes to a complete stop. Careful not to move too much, Wangji sets the comb beside him and then brushes through Wei Ying's hair with his fingers, wrapping sections in the front into a bun.]
[ there are times, especially times like this, where something flickers to life in Wei Ying's chest and floods into his veins like smoke. it is only ever with Lan Zhan, only ever when something like this happens, something that feels almost otherworldly, dreamlike, that he feels it. as if he needs to figure something out, and it is right there if only he could reach it.
but it always slips away, mist between his fingers, and Wei Ying wonders if Lan Zhan does it on purpose or if it is all in his own head.
it doesn't matter, not now, Wei Ying hums as the comb is traded for fingers and his eyes flutter open slowly. when he speaks his voice is thick and slow, warm at the core of it all.]
... don't go overboard, Lan Zhan. Not unless you want me to be asking you to do my hair all the time.
[ he means it teasingly, but at the same time, he finds himself then thinking about that. about Lan Zhan doing his hair for him each morning, the soft and quiet ritual to begin the day and--
the feeling flares brighter again. Wei Ying ignores it.]
[Wangji exhales softly, a hint of a smile piquing his lips. If he had his way, he would do this every day, if just to bring peace to Wei Ying, to calm the restlessness that swirls around him. The warmth in Wei Ying's voice is mirrored in Wangji's,] Of course.
[With an expert touch, he loops Wei Ying's hair through and over, catching stray pieces of hair with his long fingers. Tucking back the bun, he wraps the crimson ribbon around the base to secure the tresses in place. Except. That's not quite right.
Wangji leans forward, pulls two strands free in the front, like he used to when he was younger. They frame Wei Ying's face, melt away the years of hardship, remind Wangji of a time when Wei Ying sleeping during lecture was his greatest worry.
There. Done. But Wangji doesn't move to retrieve the robe on the bed, or to disturb Wei Ying in any way.]
[ if only Wei Ying was facing Lan Zhan and could see the smile, he treasures the hints of them that he gets from the other all the time. hordes them actually, keeps them stored in his heart for those days when the spirits are particularly resentful or everything seems that much more difficult.
but he misses it, just hums and lets a smile of his own curl his lips as his hair is pulled with the utmost softness and care into a simple bun, sees a flicker of red as his ribbon is tied in, and they are done.
at least he thinks they are, but then there are fingertips against his forehead and Wei Ying is leaning into that touch unthinkingly, seeking it, and-- oh.
oh, Lan Zhan--
Lan Zhan remembered. remembered and liked it enough to pull the hair-free in a way that he was sure had always bothered the other, when they were back studying, because it was messy. not as messy as the simply ponytail he had sported for a few short summers, but close. unkempt and in his face. but Lan Zhan...
the feeling comes back, stronger than before and Wei Ying finds himself seeking Lan Zhan's gaze, eyes wide, searching. ]
[Wangji's name drifts up to his ears and he slowly tilts his gaze down toward Wei Ying. He already looks stunning, just as he is. The extra strands pulled down over his face do not detract, but instead add to the feral beauty that emanates from Wei Ying. Instead of moving to continue the process of readying, Wangji finds himself caught, tied in by the red string of fate that links them together after all these years.]
Yes? [He asks, voice low, little more than a whisper, reserved only for Wei Ying to hear in this private place.
Wangji should have finished long ago; Wei Ying's hair did not require much in the way of styling. Yet, here he remains, with Wei Ying's back against his legs, neither of them moving.]
[ for a moment, time seems to stop. it is just Wei Ying and Lan Zhan and nothing else; no cultivator world straining at the seams, no expectations from clans, no need to move for the funeral that will not wait. right now, for the first time in a long while, Wei Ying feels seen, right to his nonexistent core. it is terrifying and exhilarating all at once because if anyone were to see him, why wouldn't it be Lan Zhan.
Wei Ying opens his mouth, but for once isn't sure of words, so he closes it, eyes still fixed on Lan Zhan.
a heartbeat, then two, and Wei Ying has to jerk himself away from Lan Zhan before he crawls into his lap (what the hell was that thought? why would he--? Lan Zhan would stab him)
the laughter that he forces out sounds winded.] Ah, Lan Zhan, I almost fell asleep there. You're really good at that.
[ a smile, sharp and unsteady. then, quietly, honestly:] Thank you.
[Wangji stares down at Wei Ying, at those bright eyes gleaming up at him. Peaceful. Content. And Wangji wants to hold this moment forever, to hold Wei Ying like this eternally, but then Wei Ying moves, jerks away. Swallowing down the mote of anxiety that springs forth on his tongue, Wangji stays right where he finished, hands slowly curling back into their usual place behind his back. The compliment earns no reaction, sounds empty, but the gratitude earns a glance back up.
Nodding, his lips quirk minutely and he steps around to the bed to retrieve the white robe. Yes. That's right. They're going to a funeral today. They might already be late.]
[ something feels-- shifted. Wei Ying doesn't know if it is in him or in Lan Zhan or between the two of them, but something isn't sitting quite the way that it used to. and Wei Ying finds that he is okay with that, despite not quite knowing where to put his foot, he feels that, maybe even if he were to misstep, with Lan Zhan it would not matter.
with a huff, Wei Ying steps close, reaches out to take the robe. considers arguing again, but instead just gives a soft smile.]
Ah Lan Zhan, are you trying to spoil me with all this attention? [ he voice doesn't hold its usual humour, instead, he sounds almost wistful.] Mmmm, we should go, shouldn't we.
Edited (how many times can i fuck up one tag) 2019-12-25 01:27 (UTC)
[Wangji sees that moment of hesitation when Wei Ying steps close, expects an argument but receives none. With another soft quirk of his lips, he assists in draping the robe over Wei Ying's shoulders, fingers trailing along the delicate beading and filigree. Beautiful, really. Both the robe and Wei Ying. It's a shame that such a garment is being worn for a funeral and not a happier occasion.
His gaze flicks back up to Wei Ying at the question, but doesn't answer it. The truth is still too painful to speak, too raw, too dangerous. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand.] Yes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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That said, he does not and would not expect the same of Wu Xian, but he also has ways of surprising Wang Ji.
However, this occasion is not one of them. Wang Ji draws open the door, albeit apprehensive to the reason for Wu Xian's reply, but finds nothing amiss, no enemies, only Wu Xian dressed- or, rather undressed- in crimson. The color complements Wu Xian's skin, warms pale cheeks, and brings life into cheeks that seem to have dulled in the past several months.
To see him in red is always a treat, but Wang Ji does not pause to stare. Instead, he closes the door behind him and continues on to unshoulder his pack. With a careful hand, he unwraps the white robe on his other shoulder, careful to keep the filigree from catching and pulling, and holds it out for Wu Xian.]
This should be suitable.
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simply put, he couldn't. and he didn't.
which is what lands him in times like this, tired to the marrow of his bones and trying to drown out the echoes in his head from the shadows, asking to borrow a white outer layer from Lan Zhan of all cultivators so he can attend a funeral of a man that was so kind to him and Yuan when he didn't have to be.
the smile on his face is bright, as it always is, but fades into something awed when Lan Zhan holds out the robe to him gently.
it's gorgeous. and so much more than what he expected. Wei Ying almost hesitated to reach out to touch it, fingertips ghosting along the fabric gently as he stares at Lan Zhan.]
Lan Zhan, this-- you should wear this one. It suits you. [ gorgeous. elegant. ]
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And it seems that may still be an option.
Wang Ji shakes his head, slow and solemn, looking down at the robe and then back up to Wu Xian. In his opinion, they match each other. From the playful touches of spring flowers embroidered in the silk to the reflective beading dividing the robe in half, it is not Wang Ji's style. He can count the number of times he's worn it on one hand and still have fingers left over.]
I am already dressed.
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[ there is a budding smile in the corner of his lips as he speaks, fingers still touching the fabric gently but his eyes on Wangji (softly, reverently, a look that only gets bestowed upon Lan Wangji). he can see the care, the detail, in this robe. it is more opulent than he might usually expect of the Second Jade, but also-- Wei Ying would love to see him in it.
and yet here he is, offering it up to him.
Wei Ying sighs, fingers falling away from the fabric as he gives Wangji a pointed look. ] You should wear this, I can wear the one you have on now. Come on, it won't take long to change, besides I still have to fix my hair.
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Dress. I will fix your hair.
[Which is entirely too intimate an act on its own, but he could make the excuse that they are trying to get to Yiling by the afternoon.
He lifts his hands again to offer the robe.]
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oh.
there is a beat where it is clear that the offer has rendered Wei Ying speechless, mouth opening and closing without a sound spilling out. Wei Ying isn't sure why but the thought of Lan Zhan's fingers in his hair, the thought of him taking the time to brush it out and help him put it up has his breath catching behind his teeth and his heart skipping double time.]
Are you-- sure? [ it is quiet, so very quiet for Wei Ying, like he is afraid of speaking and making Lan Zhan think on his offer again. like he is afraid of scaring this moment away.]
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Of course. There are no ulterior motives here. None what so ever.
Gesturing to one of the pillows on the floor,] Sit.
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it is telling as well how he sits himself down so easily, makes sure the white robe is uncreased against the bed before he sits on the pillow that was gestured to and settles without complaint, back to Lan Zhan and his red ribbon in his hands.
without thinking, Wei Ying closes his eyes and exhales slowly as if to center himself before murmuring: ] It doesn't need to be anything fancy...
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He doesn't respond, but he doesn't feel the need to. Instead, he focuses on the task of gently running the teeth of the jade comb through Wu Xian's tresses, pale green through deep black. In one small section at a time, Wang Ji teases out knots with gentle pulls, trying not to pull Wu Xian's beautiful hair more than needed.
It's. strangely calming. Like playing his guqin. The glide of stone on hair whispers through the air, a melody of its own weaving and wandering infinitely.]
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Wu Xian shivers a little, chin tipping down as the comb passes over the base of his neck, gooseflesh breaking out across his skin.
still, he keeps quiet but for a low exhale and a nearly imperceptible shift to get closer to Wang Ji. ]
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Jade teeth inch up the length of Wu Xian's hair, leaving smooth hair behind. When the comb reaches Wu Xian's scalp, Wang Ji pauses to run his fingers through the longer sections to check for any knots that missed his first pass.]
Are you in pain?
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Mn.
[ eyes fluttering closed a little, Wei Ying smiles softly and shakes his head minutely. he wants to say more but his tongue feels too heavy. he tries again, voice quiet and a little warm around the edges as he speaks.]
No, not at all.
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[Wang Ji doesn't want to hurt Wu Xian at all, not now or ever. He hopes the peace settling in the room with them also eases any ails or sadness Wu Xian may have carried in with him, allow them to dissipate with the gentle breeze. For this moment, all other matters can wait at the door.
Wang Ji returns to combing higher up this time, each stroke deliberate but careful not to tug if the teeth meet resistance. He brushes through the hair of Wu Xian's scalp with his fingers first and then the comb, to find the trouble spots early. And, perhaps, to enjoy the briefest of contact with Wu Xian. It will soon be done and he doesn't want to waste the opportunity.]
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hopefully that doesn't stop Lan Zhan, because this is the most at peace Wei Ying has felt in months and he honestly does not want it to stop.]
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When his fellow tilts his head back and a soft sound escapes, Wang Ji's lips quirk minutely. He's never seen Wu Xian like this, so quiet and pleased and vulnerable, outside of sleeping. It's- nice to see this side of him. And Wang Ji respects that vulnerability with a ginger touch when working along the hairline. He smoothes his fingers along Wu Xian's forehead, just below the shoots of hair, to keep them from pulling when he combs through them.]
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but he can't really concentrate on that, because then Lan Zhan's hands are pressing against his skin a little harder and Wei Ying is positively melting at the sensations. his back presses against Lan Zhan's legs and he knows he should move, he honestly does, but it all feels so mind-numbingly good he can't bear to move.
so he doesn't. relaxes with a quiet sigh of 'Lan Zhan' and a soft shiver.]
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Alas, they do have plans.
The comb slows as it traces its last few paths through Wei Ying's hair, as Wangji attempts to draw out the last moments of peace and quiet, but soon comes to a complete stop. Careful not to move too much, Wangji sets the comb beside him and then brushes through Wei Ying's hair with his fingers, wrapping sections in the front into a bun.]
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but it always slips away, mist between his fingers, and Wei Ying wonders if Lan Zhan does it on purpose or if it is all in his own head.
it doesn't matter, not now, Wei Ying hums as the comb is traded for fingers and his eyes flutter open slowly. when he speaks his voice is thick and slow, warm at the core of it all.]
... don't go overboard, Lan Zhan. Not unless you want me to be asking you to do my hair all the time.
[ he means it teasingly, but at the same time, he finds himself then thinking about that. about Lan Zhan doing his hair for him each morning, the soft and quiet ritual to begin the day and--
the feeling flares brighter again. Wei Ying ignores it.]
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[With an expert touch, he loops Wei Ying's hair through and over, catching stray pieces of hair with his long fingers. Tucking back the bun, he wraps the crimson ribbon around the base to secure the tresses in place. Except. That's not quite right.
Wangji leans forward, pulls two strands free in the front, like he used to when he was younger. They frame Wei Ying's face, melt away the years of hardship, remind Wangji of a time when Wei Ying sleeping during lecture was his greatest worry.
There. Done. But Wangji doesn't move to retrieve the robe on the bed, or to disturb Wei Ying in any way.]
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but he misses it, just hums and lets a smile of his own curl his lips as his hair is pulled with the utmost softness and care into a simple bun, sees a flicker of red as his ribbon is tied in, and they are done.
at least he thinks they are, but then there are fingertips against his forehead and Wei Ying is leaning into that touch unthinkingly, seeking it, and-- oh.
oh, Lan Zhan--
Lan Zhan remembered. remembered and liked it enough to pull the hair-free in a way that he was sure had always bothered the other, when they were back studying, because it was messy. not as messy as the simply ponytail he had sported for a few short summers, but close. unkempt and in his face. but Lan Zhan...
the feeling comes back, stronger than before and Wei Ying finds himself seeking Lan Zhan's gaze, eyes wide, searching. ]
Lan Zhan....
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Yes? [He asks, voice low, little more than a whisper, reserved only for Wei Ying to hear in this private place.
Wangji should have finished long ago; Wei Ying's hair did not require much in the way of styling. Yet, here he remains, with Wei Ying's back against his legs, neither of them moving.]
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Wei Ying opens his mouth, but for once isn't sure of words, so he closes it, eyes still fixed on Lan Zhan.
a heartbeat, then two, and Wei Ying has to jerk himself away from Lan Zhan before he crawls into his lap (what the hell was that thought? why would he--? Lan Zhan would stab him)
the laughter that he forces out sounds winded.] Ah, Lan Zhan, I almost fell asleep there. You're really good at that.
[ a smile, sharp and unsteady. then, quietly, honestly:] Thank you.
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Nodding, his lips quirk minutely and he steps around to the bed to retrieve the white robe. Yes. That's right. They're going to a funeral today. They might already be late.]
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with a huff, Wei Ying steps close, reaches out to take the robe. considers arguing again, but instead just gives a soft smile.]
Ah Lan Zhan, are you trying to spoil me with all this attention? [ he voice doesn't hold its usual humour, instead, he sounds almost wistful.] Mmmm, we should go, shouldn't we.
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His gaze flicks back up to Wei Ying at the question, but doesn't answer it. The truth is still too painful to speak, too raw, too dangerous. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand.] Yes.
[Nothing can last forever.]
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