Chapter 95: Waking and Sleeping, Part Twenty (6)

Lan Wangji paid this no mind, fixing his gaze upon him as though he feared that in the space of a single blink Wei Wuxian might slip away. When Wei Wuxian reached out to close his eyes for him, he buried the lower half of his face in the water and blew out a gurgling string of bubbles. Wei Wuxian laughed aloud and gave his cheek a gentle pinch. ‘Er-gege, how old are you?’

He took up the soap-bean box and the Blindfold Cloth beside him and wiped downward along Lan Wangji's face, and as he wiped, his hand went still.

Just now Lan Wangji had loosed his forehead ribbon and hair ribbon himself, and his black hair had come spilling down to veil his upper body. But now, having pushed that sodden black hair aside for him, Wei Wuxian saw it all laid bare — those thirty-odd Discipline Whip Scars, and the brand upon his chest.

The Discipline Whip Scars spread from Lan Wangji's back across his chest, his shoulders, his arms, crisscrossing the broad expanse of fair, flawless skin. These savage wounds had ruined, past all mending, what would otherwise have been a man's near-perfect form.

…

Wei Wuxian fell suddenly silent, lowering his head to wet the Blindfold Cloth and pass it over those whip scars.

His touch was exceedingly gentle, though these were all old wounds long since healed, no longer able to hurt. And even had they been fresh, knowing Lan Wangji's nature, he would never have shown the least weakness even at their worst.

Wei Wuxian wanted very much to ask him many things now. In the Gusu Lan Clan, the only ones with the standing to punish Lan Wangji so with the Discipline Whip were Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren. What error had he committed, to make his closest brother, or the uncle who had raised him with his own hands and always taken such pride in him, lay so cruel a hand upon him? And there was that brand of the Qishan Wen Sect he had no memory of. And there was the question he had carried with him always, the one he most longed to ask —

Hanguang-jun, what do you truly make of me, of this man I am?

Yet each time the words rose to his lips, he would find in his heart all manner of reasons to fudge past them. That there was no hurry; that he would play with him to his heart's content and ask afterward; that it could not be done so carelessly, that he must sit down in earnest first and only then ask; that perhaps nothing said after drink could be taken as true.

All these pretexts had dragged the thing out until now, and the real reason he knew well enough.

It was, most likely, because he had lost his nerve.

He was afraid he would hear an answer other than the one he hoped for.

Suddenly Lan Wangji turned and cast him a glance. Only then did Wei Wuxian realize that, washing and washing, his mind had gone wandering off into the void, and he had scrubbed a patch of skin on Lan Wangji's back raw and red, as though it had been struck. Wei Wuxian thought to himself, could that glance of Lan Wangji's mean he was displeased with his service? He stopped at once. ‘Sorry, sorry — does it hurt?’

Lan Wangji said nothing, only shook his head. Seeing him sit so quietly in the bath, Wei Wuxian thought him pitiable, and crooked a finger to scratch beneath his jaw by way of comfort. Scratching the jaw was not enough; his hands itched, his heart itched, and he wanted besides to poke at Lan Wangji's stomach. But halfway there his wrist was abruptly seized in Lan Wangji's grip, and in a low voice he said, ‘Stop fidgeting.’

On the elegant contours of his face and on his lashes there clung still a few clear beads of water; his expression seemed cold as ice, yet his gaze was scalding enough to burn.

Wei Wuxian had taken countless such heedless little liberties with Lan Wangji that night, and had long grown used to Lan Wangji letting him do as he pleased, so that to be stopped now, all at once, only emboldened him. ‘Why? Haven't you let me touch you all this while?’

Lan Wangji pressed his lips tight and said not a word, and whether he was angry there was no telling. At this Wei Wuxian felt a touch guilty. ‘All right, I won't touch you anymore — you do it yourself.’

So saying, he dropped the cloth and made to flee. But far from letting him go, the hand about his wrist only gripped the harder, and he commanded, ‘You're not to leave.’

Wei Wuxian tugged twice and could not get free, which emboldened him further still. ‘Hanguang-jun, now this is your fault. You order me to wash your face, then you won't let me touch you, then you won't let me leave. What in the world do you want of me?’

…

After a moment's silence, Lan Wangji said, in a tone almost overbearing, ‘You're not to leave, and that's that.’

Wei Wuxian scooped up two handfuls of water and splashed them across Lan Wangji's face. ‘Look at you — so high-handed, so unreasonable!’

The water spattered across Lan Wangji's face, and he neither flinched nor turned aside. ‘I told you to stop fidgeting.’

The words seemed a warning. Perhaps the wine's aftermath was too strong, for Wei Wuxian's head had grown strangely hot.

He hooked up one corner of his mouth. ‘And if I insist on fidgeting, what can you do to me? Set me copying lines? Shut me in seclusion? Or forbid me to speak?’

Lan Wangji stared fixedly at him, something like a spark flashing across his gaze. Something like anger.

This face, this expression, this gaze, this circumstance, this man. Wei Wuxian drew in a soft, cold breath.

As though kindled by some wicked flame, he caught fire and threw all caution to the winds. ‘Hanguang-jun, don't you dare tell me you don't like me touching you like this.’

Wei Wuxian's one reckless, death-defying word and deed after another at last roused the other to outright fury.

As though bitten by a viper, Lan Wangji gave a violent pull. Caught off guard, Wei Wuxian felt himself swept beyond all control and dragged in.

Water flew up in a spray, and there was no checking what followed.

Wei Wuxian's two arms wound about the back of Lan Wangji's neck. Suddenly he gave a cry of ‘Ah,’ opened his eyes, and swore, ‘Lan Zhan! Why are you biting people like a dog again?!’

A thread of blood stained his lips, lending him a yet more ravishing color. To Wei Wuxian's ill-timed complaint, Lan Wangji's answer was to bite down once more. Hurt by it, Wei Wuxian knit his brows again and again, and by way of revenge gave him a hard squeeze.

Most likely no one had ever dared so audacious a thing to Lan Wangji, and not once but twice over; his face changed all at once, and the arms holding Wei Wuxian tightened, leaving rows of clear fingerprints behind. Wei Wuxian laughed and caught a few breaths, then pecked at the corner of Lan Wangji's mouth. ‘Well? Angry yet? Lan Zhan, do you know — I've loved the sight of you angry since I was a child!’

.

Little by little the two of them grew calm again.

Wei Wuxian pressed a soft kiss into Lan Wangji's hair. What lingered in the air about them, besides that faint scent of sandalwood, was a trace of the fresh, clean smell of soap-bean after the bath.

The words Wei Wuxian had meant to ask Lan Wangji he had bottled up in his heart so long without daring, and only now, with the two of them lying side by side, did he feel he had some footing. He said softly, ‘Lan Zhan… are you listening?’

After a moment, Lan Wangji gave a low ‘Mn.’ Wei Wuxian said, ‘I have something to tell you.’

Drawing a light breath, he said, ‘Lan Zhan, thank you.’

A thousand words, ten thousand, and no place to begin.

Had he not met Lan Wangji after coming back this time, Wei Wuxian did not know what he would be now. In truth, blundering about on his own, he might not have fared so very badly.

But however it had gone, he believed it would never have been better than this.

Yet he did not notice that, upon hearing these words, Lan Wangji's body stiffened, just slightly.

The surging heat had only just begun to ebb, and Wei Wuxian's head was still in a haze, so that he rambled on, ‘In these two lifetimes I've lived, you've helped me so much. I know you've been… very good to me. You're so very good! Besides thank you, I don't even know what to say to you… anyway, I… toward you… toward you…’

But that was not the point at all. Wei Wuxian had never laid bare such feelings of the heart to anyone, and thick-skinned as he was, he found it somewhat hard to get out, daring only to pick up the easier things first. He was just turning over how to bare himself in a way both earnest and sincere when Lan Wangji suddenly shoved him away.

Caught off guard, Wei Wuxian's back struck the floor with a muffled thud.

He went wide-eyed, dazed and unable to move. Lan Wangji, for his part, had sat up, his chest rising and falling, his breath coming a little quick.

The two held their silent standoff for a good while, and the one who moved first was, again, Lan Wangji.

His face was pale, but his eyes were clear; he picked up a white robe from the floor and draped it over Wei Wuxian first, and only then went to find his own to put on.

Wei Wuxian was still dazed, scarcely able to believe all that had just happened.

That one shove was as though a sweet and tender dream had turned all at once to nightmare, or like a basin of cold water flung full in his face, drenching him chill to the core from head to foot; more still, like a heavy slap landed across his cheek, knocking the world into a spin. When at last he found the power to speak, his voice had gone hoarse, and he ventured, ‘Lan Zhan, you… you've sobered up?’

Lan Wangji had already dressed and sat far off to one side; he wiped his forehead with his right hand, then turned to face the wreckage strewn across the floor, his back to Wei Wuxian. After a while, he said in a low voice, ‘Mn.’

Though there was no knowing just when he had sobered, since this was Lan Wangji's response once sober, one thing was plain enough.

What had just passed, he was unwilling to go on with. And Wei Wuxian's words, those too he was unwilling to go on with.

Wei Wuxian finally saw just how vile his own conduct a moment ago had been.