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“Urghhh!” Lan Jingyi groaned as he flailed around sightlessly in a tangle of his robes.
In his defense, he wasn’t usually this terrible at undressing. Jin Ling had gifted him a leather cuirass, the type that non-cultivators usually wore into battle, thinking it a hilarious joke, but then Lan Sizhui had shrugged with a little wince and said, “Might not be a bad idea.”
He might have told them both to shove it if he hadn’t heard a dark and smoky voice, somehow now the voice of reason in his head, saying, “Just stay alive, Lan Jingyi,” and, what the hell, he didn’t have any pride anymore anyway, right?
It was an embossed plate of leather, secured over his shoulders by straps with buckles, well-fitted to his chest, but Lan Jingyi wasn’t used to wearing it yet, much less getting it off him at the end of the day when his muscles were as weak as a newborn’s, and so he somehow ended up half-in, half-out with his outer robe tugged up over his head too.
And now he was stuck. Well and truly stuck. Like, going to pass out from standing there breathing in his own hot, sweaty breath before he got out stuck.
Lan Jingyi wrestled for a moment longer, wriggling and tugging at the same time, until his mind started to fog up, and he got dizzy and had to stop.
There was only one option, really. Well, two options if you considered death by robe-and-cuirass-entrapment, but… there was that voice again.
Just stay alive, Lan Jingyi.
“Help?” he called meekly.
He rolled his eyes at himself, knowing that his little cry probably hadn’t even made it past his own ears, muffled by the layers of his outer robe. Come on, Jingyi. Fuck all of them anyway.
“He - help!” Lan Jingyi cried out louder, stumbling forward a step to make himself known, only to knock his knee into something he couldn’t see. “Ouch. Gods damn it! I’m an idiot, and will someone just fucking help me?”
Crouching to cradle his smarting knee out of pure instinct, he almost missed the sound of a dry chuckle, but it registered just in time to warn him before two firm hands gripped him by one arm and held him still.
Relief and a surge of gratitude hit him so suddenly that he could have thrown his arms around the person in front of him and cried.
“You are my fucking savior,” Lan Jingyi gushed.
“Just,” the person - man, by the sound of it - grunted, pulling on the buckles of his leather armor and yanking a fistful of robes to lay flat. “Hold still.”
“If you manage to get me out of here, I will just - I don’t know - kiss you or - or! No, you probably don’t want that. Wash all your robes. Teach you all the Lan Clan secrets - the good ones! Like the silencing spell, people like that.”
“Would come in handy right now,” the man, his savior, replied, yanking free another buckle and then all of a sudden Lan Jingyi could breath fresh air as the cuirass tumbled off onto the ground, alongside his outer robe.
Lan Jingyi opened up his palms and tipped his face up into the sunlight, like a man who never expected to see it again, inhaling a great and fresh breath in through his mouth and nose.
“You beautiful, amazing -” Lan Jingyi started, effusively, while he tipped his head back down to lay eyes on the other man, but as he did, he physically startled and ended with, “Ahhh - Ah! Sandu Shengshou.”
Fuck. Sandu Shengshou, right in front of him. Oh heavens above, he looked good. His hair was pulled up high atop his head and his cheekbones were, yep, still razor sharp, and he was wearing simple robes, the color of midnight. Lan Jingyi might be completely and utterly ridiculous, but he’d have to be blind not to notice how attractive that man was. The one who was smirking at him, eyes dark and amused, both hands on his hips now that he’d successfully battled the menace of Lan Jingyi’s clothes – and, oh hell, the man who was in Lan Jingyi’s tent.
“What are you doing here?” Lan Jingyi asked, breathlessly, then immediately regretted it. Because what kind of person asked that question, of all questions, when Sandu Shengshou was in their tent?
Jiang Wanyin’s mouth twisted down, but the light of amusement remained in his eyes as he said, “Two second ago you were offering to do my laundry and teach me all your Clan’s secrets, and now -”
“Oh no! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. More like, hello Sect Leader Jiang. What can this humble soldier do for you?” Lan Jingyi tried to recover, ungracefully, but what was new? Awkwardly, he threw himself into a little bow, and when his hair flopped over into his face, he realized that at least half of it had made its way out of his pony-tail.
“Lan Jingyi,” Jiang Wanyin replied, voice deepening, almost a thread… uncertain? Lan Jingyi leaned back up just in time to see just the faintest flush of pink pass over Jiang Wanyin’s cheekbones. He resisted the urge to gawp at the other man and the uncharacteristic moment of bashfulness. “I, well - I came in search of you,” Jiang Wanyin finished, casting his eyes off toward the floor before something steeled in his posture and he yanked his gaze back up, firm and challenging.
“Why?” Lan Jingyi asked, flabbergasted, then clapped a hand over his mouth, wishing he, just for once, thought before he spoke.
Luckily, Jiang Wanyin did not look put out. The corner of his mouth twitched and he replied, “Well, I came to see how you were doing. I didn’t expect to save your life… again.”
Groaning, Lan Jingyi grinned and buried his face in one hand.
Jiang Wanyin snorted with mirth and said, “Come on, let’s pick up this mess. Then there’s food and drink outside, and I won’t forget that I was promised certain rewards.”
Lan Jingyi’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. Jiang Wanyin wanted to eat with him. And drink with him. And collect on his rewards with him. For whatever reason, Jiang Wanyin had sought him out. He rushed to cover for his utter bafflement at this strange turn of events by squatting down and starting to rustle up his robe and cuirass, then straightening out some of the other things he’d knocked over as he’d stumbled around earlier in a panic.
“Here,” Jiang Wanyin said. Lan Jingyi whirled back around to face him, finding him thrusting out one hand. “Your… paper, talisman, whatever.”
The other man looked down at the picture painted on the front, mildly curious, but he didn’t ask when Lan Jingyi plucked the card out of his hand.
Lan Jingyi placed it face down on the top of the deck, but his mind recited its meaning automatically. Two of Vessels. The spark of attraction. Opposites drawn together magnetically. A call to trust one's instincts.
As he followed the other man out of his tent, his eyes ran over Jiang Wanyin’s broad shoulders, the way they tapered down to his waist, wrapped tight in the sash of his robes. His reading of the cards had to be wrong. That first time, with the odd-spirit draw of the lovers, and this time now with the two of vessels. But then… oh heavens and hells, he’d promised Jiang Wanyin three rewards: his laundry, the Lan Clan’s secrets and a kiss.