lan zhan | lan wangji (忘机) (guqin) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-03-06 13:39:00 |
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Jiang Cheng had held up a corner inside for a time, watching the ones who had promised to bring liquor very closely. He knew he had no right to try and control Wei Wuxian’s behavior but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The frustration of the fight against the lake monster lingered. He’d yet again been forced to stay on the outskirts while his brother was in the thick of things and it stung more now that he was stronger and more powerful than ever. But then Wei Wuxian had been injured and all resentment had been shoved to a dark corner of his mind.
It peeked back out now, as he wandered outside the jingshi to linger near the bunnies frolicking nearby. He wasn’t really needed here. But he couldn’t bear to leave either. He sat down, set his sword beside him, and caught a bunny trying to hop over his foot and head for the stairs.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered, close to the bunnies twitching nose. “It’s crowded enough in there already.”
“They sneak into the jingshi quite frequently.”
It was the first sentence Lan Wangji had directly spoken to Jiang Cheng since the latter’s arrival at Vallo, and it was delivered by the calm man in pristine white and blue who despite currently cradling one of the rabbits nonetheless had the art of staring imperiously down. Lan Wangji had been neutral toward Jiang Cheng for many years, but had never quite forgiven him for their shared moment standing on the cliff, watching Wei Wuxian helplessly dangle by bloody fingertips from the rock. Now that he was sixteen years older, and somewhat wiser, Lan Wangji could understand that he had hated Jiang Cheng for that moment not because of Jiang Cheng’s actions so much as his own inactions. Jiang Cheng had been a convenient target for dislike because Lan Wangji could not despise himself.
Nonetheless, despite all this emotional maturity, Lan Wangji wasn’t warm with his lover’s brother. The depth of grief had been bottomless, for all that Jiang Cheng had been tricked like everyone else.
Lan Wangji nodded toward the rabbit in his hands. “I planned to bring a few in. He’s bored.” And Wei Wuxian could be destructive in all sorts of ways when bored.
Lan Wangji’s voice caught Jieng Cheng by surprise. He nearly dropped the bunny but ended up holding it closer instead. He’d forgotten how stealthy Hanguang-Jun could be. He’d also forgotten how intimidating his tone was. Not that Jiang Cheng would allow himself to be intimidated. He scowled and brushed a hand over the bunny’s head.
“Of course he is,” he sighed. Reluctantly, he held the bunny out for Lan Wangji to take. It was his, after all. He sounded more gently mocking than actually judgmental when he spoke. “He has a line of friends coming to visit. Why wouldn't he be bored?"
Lan Wangji indicated with a movement of his head that Jiang Cheng keep the rabbit - honestly, the other man looked like he could use a cuddly little animal to hug - and addressed a side-portion of Jiang Cheng’s central complaint: “Sitting still isn’t his strongest skill.” Friends and attention were all well and good, but Wei Ying simply preferred most of his interactions while on the move to something else. Lan Wangji, who was a master of minimal movement when not practicing his swordsmanship, couldn’t relate but had learned to accept it over the years.
He inclined his head to the rabbit in Jiang Cheng’s hands. “That’s Hibiscus. We named them each after flowers.”
Surprise flickered visibly across Jiang Cheng’s face. He’d expected the rabbit to be hastily reclaimed and for Lan Wangji to disappear back inside. To have him stay and spare even one more word was alarming. This was already more words than they’d shared in the last sixteen years. Jiang Cheng blinked a few times and turned his gaze back to the bunny in his hands.
“He doesn’t mind sitting on a roof...” He brushed his thumbs over the bunny’s sides and glanced around at the others, who were hopping over to see if the pair of them had anything to snack on, most likely. “Did you name one Lotus?” His eyebrows raised, almost - almost - jokingly. This conversation was surreal already; he may as well stick to the theme. “Or were you afraid he might end up in a soup?”
Lan Wangji’s eyes flicked over the backs of the dozen, nearly identical white bunnies, seeking a specific one. “Lotus,” he finally said, identifying a dozing rabbit with his back legs thrust out behind him with an inclination of his chin. Of course they had named a rabbit after Wei Ying’s lost home.
His thumb scratched the back of the rabbit’s head where the fur was dove-soft. Lan Wangji wasn’t a talkative person even with his nearest and dearest, neither of which Jiang Cheng qualified for. He was, however, not intending to be rude at the present - it wasn’t what Wei Ying needed as he healed. “Are your accommodations to your liking, here?” It was a far cry from Lotus Pier. Lan Wangji was grateful for the arrival of their jingshi.
Jiang Cheng followed Lan Wangji’s gaze and stared at the rabbit he indicated with an uncomfortable burning feeling behind his ribs. That Wei Wuxian had named a bunny Lotus wasn’t shocking. He’d always been fond of them. But something about it still carved away at Jiang Cheng’s walls. That didn’t stop him from glaring at Lan Wangji for asking about his accommodations, though. He wasn’t as restrained by not wanting to upset Wei Wuxian while he was injured.
“Do you really care how I’m liking my accommodations, Hanguang-Jun?” He squinted up at him. That stoic face had haunted his life for so many years and he still knew only as much about Lan Wangji as Lan Wangji allowed. “The apartment is fine. It’s not this…” He gestured towards the jingshi, a hint of longing in his voice. “But it’s hardly anything to complain about.”
Lan Wangji’s face didn’t change; he’d never been moved to show anger as an expression. Yes, it tended to annoy people. It hadn’t been his intention to annoy Jiang Cheng just now, but rather than apologize he let Jiang Cheng spill emotion everywhere as the other man was wont. There was little point in trying to minimize either Wei Ying or Jiang Cheng’s reactions, he had learned over the years. One of the many ways they were alike.
“We are in-laws now in all but legality,” Lan Wangji said, after the silence had stretched to awkwardness. “But if you wish, I can keep my questions to myself. Besides. It is the people who make the home.” He had Wei Ying; and now both brothers had their sister. He walked toward the gate, scooping up a second little fluffball as he passed it by, one of the cuddlier ones he knew Wei Ying favored.
Something vaguely resembling regret flashed across Jiang Cheng’s face but it was tangled up with the ghost of resentment. Of course, Second Master Lan was going to be the “better man” about all of this. Jiang Cheng preferred to be direct and straightforward, but it didn’t earn him any friends. But then, any chance Lan Wangji would ever be his friend had died on that cliff sixteen years ago anyway.
“I meant you don’t have to pretend to care.” He set the rabbit down gently and stood, collecting his sword as he went. “Or remind me what I have to be thankful for here.” It was a little defensive but it was also quietly spoken with conviction. He did not take for granted what this place had given him. “I’m going to walk,” he said, gesturing in an aimless way. “If...anyone should ask where I am.”
“Care is cultivated,” Lan Wangji answered, eyes dark and firm. “Like any meaningful energy.” Jiang Cheng was right, he didn’t really care, at least not beyond what affected Wei Ying and to a lesser extent, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli. He didn’t care… but he could, perhaps, in the future.
Provided this temperamental, resentful man didn’t piss him off or make Wei Ying feel guilt for things that Lan Wangji refused to see as his fault.
“I will tell them.” Lan Wangji bowed - albeit awkwardly, because bunnies, and with a nearly imperceptible snort at the ridiculousness of the attempted gesture with two fluffy creatures wiggling in his hands, he turned back to the jingshi and the sound of what was almost certainly Wei Ying complaining about not being able to get out of bed just yet.
Lan Wangji already had his back turned, but Jiang Cheng exhaled and linked his hands in front of himself for a bow anyway. It was stiff, the words care is cultivated rolling around in his head annoyingly. He rolled his eyes as he straightened up and turned away.
He’d only wanted to escape this conversation and the feeling of not belonging here, but now he had to walk out into the everchanging Vallo forest alone. Not his brightest plan. But Jiang Cheng was nothing if not stubborn so he stalked out into the trees and tried to ignore the feeling of shame that came along with him.