A handful of sunrises still stood between Wei Ying and his wedding day. He spent the nights staring at the ceiling of his room in Lotus Pier, haunted not by vengeful spirits, but by the phantom weight of a white forehead ribbon and the stifling quiet of the Cloud Recesses. He still couldn't believe he'd agreed. And Lan Wangji? He looked exactly the same—a beautiful, silent statue. Only Lan Xichen, with his brother-deciphering skills, could possibly guess what storm or sunshine brewed beneath that placid surface.
Lotus Pier itself was in a state of cheerful chaos. The news had spread: the great spiritual imbalance plaguing the region would be fixed by the union of their most unruly son and Gusu Lan's Second Jade. The air thrummed with relief and festive preparation. Wei Ying was the only one treating the occasion like a funeral, moping in a boat with a pouch of lotus seeds, mourning the death of his carefree, flirtatious future.
He was adrift in his favorite corner of the lake, seeds cracking between his teeth, when he saw them. A splash of white against the vibrant greens and pinks of the pier. A contingent of Gusu Lan disciples, moving with unnerving unison.
And there, at the front, was him.
Lan Wangji had come.
Wei Ying blinked, his brain stuttering. This felt… wrong. He wasn't the blushing bride receiving a visit from her groom-to-be. Was he? The very thought made his skin prickle with absurd horror.
He began to paddle, slowly, casually, aiming the little boat toward a thicker patch of reeds. An escape.
It was futile.
When he glanced back, Lan Wangji was standing at the water's edge directly before him, as if he'd teleported. His face was its usual masterpiece of impassivity. But his ears… his ears were a telling, brilliant shade of scarlet.
Wei Ying's heart slammed against his ribs. He clutched his chest dramatically. "O-oh! You? What… what brings the esteemed Second Jade to my humble lotus patch, Lan Zhan?" His laugh was a brittle, nervous thing.
Lan Wangji stood as rigid and perfect as a jade pillar, though the breeze teased the ends of his forehead ribbon. His gaze was unreadable, but the blush creeping up from his collar was a silent, furious confession.
Wei Ying fidgeted, gripping the rough wood of the boat. "Lan Zhan! Haha… did you miss me already?" The joke fell flat, his voice cracking on the last word.
Lan Wangji's eyes dipped—to the scattered lotus seeds in Wei Ying's lap, the evidence of his gloomy snack—then back to his face.
"...Mn."
Wei Ying choked. "Wait—that wasn't an invitation! That was a joke! Unless…?" His voice rose in panic.
A breeze carried the clean, sharp scent of sandalwood as Lan Wangji took one deliberate, graceful step closer. Wei Ying instinctively threw his weight back, making the boat seesaw violently.
From the pier, Lan Xichen watched the scene unfold with fond exasperation. "Wangji," he called, his voice a gentle bell through the air. "Perhaps you should… sit?"
Lan Wangji glanced at the wobbling dinghy, then back at Wei Ying's wide, startled eyes. He said nothing.
He simply stepped onto the boat.
"LAN ZHAN, THIS THING ISN'T MADE FOR TWO!" Wei Ying shrieked as the world tilted. The boat rocked wildly, water sloshing over the sides, before settling with an unnatural steadiness, held firm by Lan Wangji's preternatural balance.
Wei Ying clutched his robes over his heart. "Are you trying to drown me before the wedding? Is this your secret plan?"
Lan Wangji finally spoke, his voice a low vibration in the small space.
"...No."
A deliberate pause, filled only with the lap of water.
"...Unless Wei Ying prefers that."
Wei Ying gaped, rendered speechless. "What kind of monstrous choice is that?!"
Somewhere on the shore, Lan Qiren buried his face in his hands with a groan that spoke of millennia of suffering.
Wei Ying was now trapped. The small boat, which had once felt like freedom, was a prison. Lan Wangji's presence filled it, all cool sandalwood and restrained power. The gentle rocking of the lake suddenly felt intensely, intimately connected to the man sitting opposite him, so close their knees almost brushed.
Lan Xichen tried and failed to hide a smile behind his sleeve. The junior disciples had turned away, shoulders shaking.
"Wangji," Lan Qiren's voice carried, strained. "If you break that boat, the repairs are coming from your personal funds."
Lan Wangji gave a slight, acknowledging nod, his hand resting on the gunwale, the picture of calm control. Wei Ying, in contrast, felt like a leaf in a hurricane. He shifted, the movement making the boat dip, and he flung out a hand, which landed squarely on Lan Wangji's forearm to steady himself.
He yanked it back as if scalded.
The silence thickened, charged with something hotter than the afternoon sun. Wei Ying couldn't bear it. He stared fixedly at a distant lotus bloom.
"You're… acting really weird lately, Lan Zhan," he mumbled, the words barely audible. "Almost like you… wanted this marriage to happen."
Lan Wangji's gaze slid to him from the corner of his eye. He was silent for so long Wei Ying thought he might not answer. The only sounds were the water and the distant hum of the pier.
Finally, his voice came, so soft it was almost lost. "And you did not." It wasn't a question. It was a quiet, heavy statement of fact.
Wei Ying's head snapped toward him. "Eh? Who in their right mind would want it? I need at least a few more months to even believe the sentence 'I'm getting married to another man'!" He gestured vaguely, his ponytail swinging. His tone wasn't angry, just drenched in profound, flustered disbelief.
Lan Wangji watched him, a rare, unnamable emotion flickering in his golden eyes before it was banked. He observed the way Wei Ying worried the frayed edge of his sleeve, the way he couldn't hold his gaze.
"Most would be ecstatic to marry into the Gusu Lan clan," he observed, his tone devoid of judgment, merely stating a worldly truth.
"Y-yes, but…" Wei Ying floundered, gesturing between them as if the problem was obvious. "Girls for boys. And boys for girls. That's… that's how it goes."
Lan Wangji's fingers, resting on his knee, twitched minutely. His jaw tightened, a barely visible flex of muscle. When he spoke, his voice was even, but it had an edge, a razor's width of controlled intensity. "So. Because you are marrying a man, it is 'not worth the excitement'?"
Wei Ying swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet. The question hung in the air, pointed and terribly personal. It felt like Lan Zhan wasn't just talking about the marriage, but about… him. The thought was so terrifying, so immense, that Wei Ying's mind went blank. He was saved—or perhaps damned further—by Lan Xichen's timely wave from the shore, calling them in.
The boat ride back was a silence so profound it hummed.
They reconvened at a picturesque round table in a sunny corner of the Jiang family gardens, under the dappled shade of a peach tree. A simple tea service was laid out. Lan Xichen sat across from them, his smile warm but his eyes quietly analytical as they darted between his brother and his future brother-in-law.
Lan Wangji was performing a tea ceremony with lethal precision, his movements economical and beautiful. His gaze kept flicking to Wei Ying, who was staring fixedly at a passing butterfly, trying to pretend his entire world hadn't just tilted on its axis.
Lan Xichen gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod to his brother.
Lan Wangji's pouring hand hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, with the solemnity of a state diplomat, he reached into his sleeve. He produced a small, neatly wrapped package and placed it on the table directly in front of Wei Ying with definitive care.
Wei Ying blinked at it like it was a mysterious artifact. "...Lan Zhan?"
Lan Wangji did not look at him. "Mn."
Lan Xichen gently cleared his throat. "Wei-gongzi, perhaps you should see what it is."
Hesitantly, Wei Ying picked it up. The wrapping was simple but exact. He pulled at the string, unfolded the paper.
And stared.
Inside, cradled in the paper, was a jar of Emperor's Smile.
Wei Ying froze. His brain short-circuited. He looked from the jar to Lan Wangji's stubbornly averted profile, to Xichen's gently amused face, and back to the jar.
Lan Xichen chuckled softly. "Wangji was most… insistent… on procuring this particular item for you."
The tips of Lan Wangji's ears, which had finally begun to cool, burned scarlet once more.
"You—" Wei Ying stammered, his voice climbing an octave. "Lan Zhan! This is—what is this?!"
Lan Wangji turned his head further away, his fingers tightening around his white jade teacup. "...Compensation," he muttered, the word stiff and awkward. "For the inconvenience."
For a long second, Wei Ying just looked at him—at the proud line of his jaw, the defiant red of his ears, the absurd, wonderful, rule-breaking gift. Then a laugh burst out of him, genuine and startled, shaking his shoulders.
On the other side of the garden, observing the scene from a respectful and despairing distance, Lan Qiren sighed a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all three thousand Gusu Lan rules.
And somehow, amidst the confusion, the terror, and the sheer absurdity of it all, Wei Ying felt a strange, unexpected warmth settle in his chest. It was small, and confused, and he had no name for it, but it was there.
Like the first crack of sunlight through a storm cloud.