The next day dawned with an air of… romance, perhaps. Or at least, the Gusu Lan Clan's best attempt at it.
A small, solemn delegation received Wei Wuxian from his quarters and, with great ceremony, presented him with Lan Wangji. The intention was clear: a pre-wedding night-hunt. A shared activity for two young men for whom a candlelit dinner would have been unbearably awkward.
They walked into the familiar woods, the same ones where they had once hunted puppets side-by-side. Wei Wuxian wondered if they'd find anything worth the effort, or if the day would dissolve into aimless wandering or hunting the rumoured wild boar that was terrorizing the local vegetable patches.
He walked beside Lan Wangji, Suibian in hand, while he spun Chenqing absently around his finger. The silence between them was a tangible, awkward thing. Wei Wuxian, as always, was the first to break it.
"Well, Lan Zhan," he began, his tone teasing but edged with real curiosity. "Did Uncle Qiren and Brother Xichen… force you into this? A mandatory hunt with me?"
Lan Wangji did not answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the dappled path ahead. A slight tension tightened his jaw. When he finally spoke, it was a simple, solid, "No."
Wei Wuxian glanced at him, waiting for the inevitable elaboration that never came. After a dozen more steps, Lan Wangji added, quietly, "They suggested it."
A half-smile tugged at Wei Wuxian's mouth. "And you… went along with the suggestion?"
Lan Wangji's silence was his answer, though the faintest downturn at the corner of his lips spoke volumes. Finally, a soft, "Mn."
The sound was infuriatingly non-committal. It could mean anything from assent to resigned acceptance. Wei Wuxian huffed a laugh, half-amused, half-exasperated.
"Ah, Lan Zhan," he said, swinging Chenqing in a wide arc. "You could've just said 'no' if you didn't want to be here, you know?"
Lan Wangji stopped walking. Abruptly.
Wei Wuxian, lost in his own gestures, turned and nearly collided with him. "Lan Zhan?! What—"
He was caught by Lan Wangji's gaze—those gold eyes sharp and intense, almost burning. "I did not refuse."
The words hung in the forest air, heavy and deliberate.
Wei Wuxian blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the scant inches between them. He swallowed. "…Oh."
Lan Wangji did not move, did not look away.
Somewhere in the dense thicket, a wild boar squealed and crashed through the undergrowth.
Neither of them flinched.
(…Ah.)
(This was infinitely worse than the boat.)
A new sound pierced the moment—a distant, enthusiastic bark. Wei Wuxian's breath hitched, his eyes widening in instant, primal fear. "N-no, no, no… Not here, not now," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. Suddenly, a horde of puppets seemed like a delightful alternative.
Lan Wangji's focus snapped toward the sound, then back to Wei Wuxian's pale, panicked face. His expression hardened into protective resolve. "Stay behind me," he commanded, Bichen already half-drawn.
Wei Wuxian obeyed without thought, pressing himself flush against Lan Wangji's back, fingers clutching desperately at the white silk of his sleeve. He was trembling.
Lan Wangji felt each tremor resonate through his own frame. His hand tightened on Bichen's hilt.
The barking grew louder.
Forgotten was the awkward tension; all that existed was the fear. Wei Wuxian hid himself, face nearly buried in the waterfall of Lan Wangji's hair, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against the other man's spine.
What emerged from the bushes, however, was not a beast, but a tumbling trio of plump, fluffy puppies, barking playfully at each other.
Wei Wuxian's eyes remained saucer-wide. "No… they're coming closer! Make them stop!"
Lan Wangji slowly blinked, the warrior's tension draining from his shoulders. He glanced over his shoulder at the man practically trying to become one with his robes. The corner of his mouth twitched. "…They are just dogs."
"I have a phobia of dogs! Don't you remember?" The words tumbled out in a panicked rush, followed by an accidental, devastating addition: "How could you take care of me like a… a husband if you forget this?"
Lan Wangji's expression darkened, not with anger, but with a profound, aching depth. "Mn," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "I remember."
A weighted pause.
Then: "Wei Ying ran away before I could protect him."
The statement hung in the air, simple and devastating.
Wei Wuxian choked. "Wha—Lan Zhan! That's—that's unfair!"
Lan Wangji's gaze was unwavering. "Truth."
The puppies tumbled closer, tails wagging with joyous innocence, but Wei Wuxian was now trapped by Lan Wangji's words, his cheeks burning hotter than any summer sun.
(…Ah. So this was his karma.)
With a dramatic, shuddering gasp, he broke away and sprinted in the opposite direction. "No! Don't follow me, you little monsters!"
The puppies, interpreting this as the start of a wonderful game, yipped with glee and gave chase.
Lan Wangji watched the scene unfold, his face an impassive mask that did nothing to hide the faint fondness in his eyes. It was a ridiculous spectacle: the legendary Yiling Patriarch, fleeing in genuine terror from a trio of fluffy balls of joy, darting between trees like a startled rabbit.
"Lan Zhan—! Save me!" The helpless cry finally came when Wei Wuxian tripped over a root.
This time, Lan Wangji did sigh—a soft, almost imperceptible exhale. He moved forward in one graceful motion, placing himself between the puppies and their quarry. He knelt slightly, holding out a firm, commanding hand.
"Stop."
The puppies skidded to a comical halt. They sat instantly, looking up at this serene, powerful man with wagging tails and lolling tongues, utterly captivated.
Wei Wuxian, panting behind his tree, peeked out. "…Huh?"
"Mn," Lan Wangji said, not turning. "Safe now."
Wei Wuxian slumped against the bark, groaning. "Lan Zhan, since when do dogs listen to you?!"
Lan Wangji glanced back at him, just once. "…Better than screaming."
Wei Wuxian gasped, clutching his chest in mock agony. "Rude!"
But the tension had shattered. A real, if exasperated, smile finally broke through his fear.
The remaining days of their pre-wedding "courtship" passed in a similar fashion—a blend of awkward silence, sudden profound declarations, and absurdly fluffy perils. It was, against all odds, Lan Wangji's first foray into a kind of romance, and he navigated it with his signature blend of solemnity and startling effectiveness.
And then, the eve of the wedding arrived.
The Cloud Recesses was transformed, draped in cascades of red silk. Lanterns glowed like captive fireflies against the violet dusk, casting a warm, anticipatory light. For once, Wei Wuxian was quiet, seated before a polished bronze mirror in the Jingshi, staring at his own reflection as if he didn't recognize the man in red and black robes laid out beside him.
Across the courtyard, in his own austere room, Lan Wangji stood by the window. His fingers traced the intricate silver-cloud embroidery on his own red and white wedding attire, his gaze distant, seeing something far beyond the familiar mountains.
Lan Xichen found them both like that—suspended in the quiet, weighty space between duty and desire.
"Tomorrow," he said softly, pausing at each doorway, "will be a beginning."
Neither man responded.
But when Wei Wuxian, restless as ever, slipped out to the rooftops later that night, he was not alone for long.
Without a word, Lan Wangji settled beside him. Their shoulders brushed, a faint, warm point of contact in the cool night. The stars above were sharp and cold, countless witnesses to the turning of their world.
Wei Wuxian exhaled, the sound shaky in the vast silence. "…Lan Zhan."
A pause, filled only with the whisper of the wind.
Then, a quiet, steadfast: "Mn."
And somehow, in that single syllable, everything was acknowledged—the fear, the hope, the absurdity, the profound truth of their situation. It was enough.
Tomorrow, they would kneel before the world, bound by covenant and ceremony.
But tonight, under the infinite sky, they were already bound by something quieter, something more dangerous and more beautiful than any vow.
Something like a promise. Something like hope.