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A Lone Ghost Child Stands In For The Lake of Lotuses

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Lan Wangji walked into the office where Wei Wuxian was still going through paperwork. He always complains how endless it is, and Lan Wangji shares similar thoughts but doesn’t complain about the amount. However, tomorrow is a busy day with a discussion conference held in Qinghe a few days later. They need to leave early the next morning if they want to make it on time. 


In the office, Wei Wuxian is sitting at a desk with different papers scattered about and an ink pot and multiple brushes surrounding him. He always loses track of his brushes after all. Lan Wangji sighs fondly at that, and walks over to him. “Wei Ying.” 


“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even bother looking up. 


“You need to go to sleep.”


“I’m nearly done with this letter and then I’ll go.” 


“En.” And then Lan Wangji elegantly knelt down next to him. 


Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian’s side profile, and just admiring him. He’s still shocked, even after eighteen years of marriage, that he gets to sit here, that he gets to sleep next to him, that he’s his comfort. However, that last one, that last one came with a bloody price of Wei Wuxian being the only survivor of the Lotus Pier Massacre that opened up the way to the Sunshot Campaign. 


Lan Wangji still remembers very clearly that night when he finally found, or rather was proven wrong that he was dead. Four long months, those were so empty. Not knowing for sure. He was relieved that he was alive, but scared at what he became when he got back from the Burial Mounds. Demonic Cultivation ended up being a secret between just the two of them. During the war, the rumors of a mysterious Demonic Cultivator flared, but afterwards, the Demonic Cultivator was never heard from again. But Lan Wangji was there with Wei Wuxian when he controlled massive amounts of corpses. He was there when the sun rose and he was sweating and exhausted, he was there to catch him when he passed out. It was, and still is their best kept secret. Everyone uses Wei Wuxian’s inventions though. But no one can know how they came to be. 


After Wei Wuxian cleaned up and organized his paperwork the best he could in his organized chaos, they walked to their shared room. They walked past some servants and disciples on night watch duty, they bowed and greeted, “Sect Leader Wei, HanGuang-Jun.” They nodded at the greeting and walked on. 


Their shared living space had a view of the lake with the Lotus Blossoms, but they aren’t in bloom. It is nearing the start of winter so there is a chill in the air, but it’s not unbearable. The night sky is reflected on the lake so the half-moon and the stars can be seen if one looks up or down. 


Wei Wuxian walks up to the railing of their shared room, and looks out. “I hope I made them proud.” It’s an old conversation. It’s old and bleeding, it’s been open and bleeding for years, it’s not something that one gets over easily, if ever. The loss of your childhood home, friends, and family alike isn’t something one gets over in just two decades. Long after vengeance has been wrought, long after rebuilding, long after getting married, long after having many disciples and a son. So Lan Wangji does as he’s always done; stay by his side, hold him close, and never let go. “They would be. You have done well.” He whispers into the chilly night air. Wei Wuxian leans back against his husband’s chest and sighs. 


“Let’s go to sleep.” He says after turning around and saying into the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck. 


“En.” They walk into their room, and routinely get ready for bed. As usual, Wei Wuxian sleeps on top of Lan Wangji’s chest, and as usual Lan Wangji hugs him close and falls asleep to his husband’s gentle breathing. 


The next morning they get dressed quickly to head out. Both dressed in the Sect Leader’s purple clothing. Lan Wangji kept his white forehead ribbon, but has a bell attached to his waist. Wei Wuxian has the bell attached to his waist as well, and has his hair tied up in a crown with a blood red ribbon tying everything together. They aren’t conventional, but Wei Wuxian has never been conventional. He practices the dark path full of thorns and blood. And Lan Wangji will always be the light at the end of the dark pitch black tunnel. 


Both swords are unsheathed and climbed on. Their disciples follow their Sect Leaders’ example and fly up. Twenty disciples are taken to the discussion conference in Qinghe. Wei Wuxian turns around to look if everyone is following, and smiles brightly, “Let’s go everyone!” He shouts above the wind. 


“Yes, Sect Leader Wei!” Their disciples shout back.