#The Tastes of Travels/ Tastes from Travelling by Xiao Yuan
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As I Still Love You (ZhongChi)
Part of 'Etched in Stone'.
Zhongli and Childe renew their wedding vows. Written for An Eternal Vow, A ZhongChi Wedding Zine.
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--
Madame Ping’s Serenitea Pot is set to a never-ending sunset.
Zhongli has always felt at peace here, his old bones settling as he rests against the lounge on her porch. Their conversation is as usual: polite, quiet, and reminiscent. There are so few left who understand the weariness that he sometimes feels, but Xiao won’t speak of the past, and Ganyu is too busy with her work to speak at all.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” says Madame Ping. When Zhongli turns to her, she smiles back, amused.
“Nonsense,” he says. “We have been chatting for a while yet.”
Her face crinkles slightly and Zhongli knows that look, the one she gets right before she says something that he won’t like—
“Words, and words with meaning are two different things, Zhongli. You might have shared polite conversation with me, but you’ve barely said a thing.” She pauses, tilting her head to the side. “Is there something bothering you?”
Not really. And yet. “I often think about the years. The past, the present, and—well, I used to think of the future. I still do, but—”
“Zhongli,” cuts in Madame Ping sweetly, “what is the matter?”
“Nothing.” He is insistent, but she knows him almost better than he knows himself. Zhongli sighs, rubbing his brow. “I am happy,” he finally says. “When it comes to my life, my family, and Ajax, I am beyond happy. Which makes me wonder… what else is there?”
Madame Ping does not judge him. “Oh, Zhongli,” she says wistfully, holding her hand out and motioning for his teacup. Zhongli places it into her hand dutifully. She sets it on the table, grabs the teapot, and pulls back her sleeve. “That is the question of all questions, isn’t it?” she asks him as she pours out a fresh cup.
“It is often on my mind.”
“Are you insecure with what you have?”
Zhongli looks at her, offended. “Of course not.”
“Then why wonder?”
Why wonder, indeed, which is why Zhongli finds the thought of it annoying. He is too old and too tired to be worried about such trivial matters—and yet, he cannot help it.
Madame Ping tuts at him. “You know, that boy is good for you. I knew it from the moment I first saw you watch him the way that you do.”
“And—Celestia, tell me—how is that?”
“As if he’s the only thing there is.”
Oh. Zhongli’s mouth snaps shut at that and he rubs at his chin awkwardly, which leaves Madame Ping to chuckle. He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, particularly when it comes to his husband.
“It has been a long time since I have been in love,” she says, reaching out to pet his arm fondly. “But there is one thing that I do remember, Zhongli. There are no rules. You get to love a person however you wish.”
Zhongli smiles at that, warmly, and settles his hand over hers. “Thank you,” he says. “I must admit… I am always learning when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“Ah, yes, well—that’s the other thing about love, isn’t it? No one knows what they’re doing.” They both laugh, and Madame Ping pulls her hand away. “Speaking of, when will I get to see the children again? Are they still off traveling?”
“Ah, about that,” starts Zhongli as he takes hold of his teacup again. “Ajax wrote to Yuan, at least…”
Madame Ping smiles as she listens to him ramble on. The tea tastes as delicious as always.
#
“Ajax,” starts Zhongli late one night after they’ve settled down, “I love you.”
Their home is quiet. Candlelight flickers from the bedside table. Childe leans against the headboard with an old book in his hand and Zhongli lies beside him as he thinks. He looks up, brow furrowed between his eyes. These words aren’t new; Zhongli says them more often than not, but Childe knows how to read his tone.
Tonight, Zhongli tells him this with quiet reservation.
“I… would hope so? I mean, I let you put eggs into me, and then I laid them—so you better.” Zhongli cracks a grin at that but doesn’t immediately respond. Childe shifts, closing the book and tossing it to the side. He settles into the sheets, turning towards Zhongli. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Zhongli, there’s something on your mind.”
Perhaps Zhongli was a fool to think that he could hide something like this from Childe. “I love you,” he repeats affectionately, “but I often wonder if the way that I love you is the same way that you love me. That is not to say your love is less; I know it isn’t. But, who and what I am, and the implications of someone like myself loving another so wholly… I wonder if you understand to exactly what extent.”
Childe’s face eases slightly. “I don’t see why there is a need to compare.”
“It isn’t a comparison.” Zhongli sighs softly. “These are just the things that I consider in my old age, I suppose. If I love you to the ends of the earth, then what else is there? What more can I do? I’ve courted you, I’ve married you, I’ve mated you. We’ve raised a family together—so what is there from here on out?”
Childe moves then, scooting closer and taking the blankets with him. He shares Zhongli’s pillow, pressing their foreheads together. “Zhongli, you have nothing to prove.”
“Then why do I feel this way?” whispers Zhongli.
“Because love is dumb,” says Childe with a soft chuckle. He lifts a hand and smooths his thumb over Zhongli’s cheek. “Are you happy?”
Madame Ping asked him the same question, and just like then, Zhongli huffs, offended. But then his gaze softens, and he nuzzles Childe’s palm. “The most I’ve ever been.”
Childe leans forward then, kissing him softly, and just like that, Zhongli’s unease seems to melt away. For the moment, at least. They doze after that with Childe flush against his chest. Zhongli breathes in the scent of him and tries to revel in the comfort.
“You know, I just remembered something,” says Childe later. They still share the same space of Zhongli’s pillow, intertwined and craving closeness.
“Hm?” Zhongli combs through Childe’s silvering hair with his fingertips.
“An old Snezhnayan tradition. I think my grandparents did it, but I was pretty young so I could be remembering wrong. It’s a vow renewal. You stand before witnesses and recommit your wedding vows.”
“Remarriage?”
Childe laughs brightly. “I mean, in a way, I guess. It’s just… reaffirming what you have.” He pauses. “Would you want to do that? Renew our vows?
It would be like reclaiming him, all over again, which is an idea that pricks at Zhongli’s instinctual lizard brain. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I like the sound of it.”
“You’ve always been a sap.” Childe snuggles closer then, chin tipping up to press a sweet kiss to Zhongli’s jaw. “My old, affectionate lizard.”
Zhongli chuckles before rolling Childe onto his back, pressing his face into the warmth of his nape. The night is still young and they aren’t that old.
#
There is minimal planning.
It irks Zhongli and he knows that Childe can tell by the way that he teases him. “We don’t need to think much about it,” he says, mouth curved into that well-known smirk. “We planned the wedding to the tee, so let’s be more laid-back this time around.”
Zhongli tries to remain easy-going about it all, but this is one of those times when he and Childe approach things wholly differently. Childe isn’t a planner, far more willing to just jump in and go with the flow. And maybe it’s because Zhongli is old, but he prefers to have a schedule, to plot things out accordingly. Not to mention that unknown anxiety that seems to have grown with his age.
He frowns, thinking.
Childe reaches out to tap his nose. “Hey, you okay?”
It startles Zhongli. “Ah, I’m—just thinking.”
Childe smiles, just a gentle grin that sits on his face. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
They sit in their Serenitea Pot, enjoying a nice brew of tea. They should be going over last-minute details for the ceremony the next day, but Childe wouldn’t allow it, putting the books away, so to speak.
No, Zhongli wants to say, but it would be a lie.
His silence must speak volumes because Childe reaches out to rub a thumb over Zhongli’s knuckles. “Hey, it’s normal.”
“It is not. We’ve been married for—”
“Decades, I know.” Childe sighs contently at the thought. “You know, even I feel nervous about it. I’ve been married to you for more than half of my life. How is that not daunting?”
It shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be—but oh. Zhongli supposes that is the point. It’s alright for none of it to make sense. Isn’t that what Madame Ping told him, all those months ago?
There are no rules. You get to love a person however you wish.
Childe watches him patiently with a twinkle in his eyes. It is Zhongli who tugs Childe’s hand to his mouth to kiss it. “Have you thought about your vows?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” says Childe slyly, which only makes Zhongli chuckle.
#
It is, perhaps, more effortless than Zhongli expects.
The sand is cool underneath his feet and Childe’s hands are warm in his. They stand on the quiet beach in their Serenitea Pot, surrounded only by a handful of close friends and family. It is sunset, the sky turning purple and pink as the brightness begins to dip below the horizon.
Even with the eyes of the others staring, Zhongli feels as though it’s only the two of them, lost in their own little pocket of the world.
Childe rubs his knuckles, the wrinkles of his face framing his eyes and mouth handsomely. “You okay?”.
“Yes,” says Zhongli, and the word rings true.
Xiao clears his throat from where he stands next to them. He looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else than there at the moment, his face pulled into a stern frown.
Childe snorts softly, rubbing at his chin. “Sorry,” he says. “Understandably distracted.” And then, Childe winks at Zhongli, which makes his stomach curl ever so slightly.
“Disgusting,” says Xiao.
“Xiao,” warns Zhongli.
Xiao looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Right, I’ll—” He clears his throat again. “We are gathered here today—”
“Oh, did you actually study the script that I gave you?” Childe sounds a little too pleased with that, and Zhongli hides his laugh behind a thinly veiled cough.
Xiao locks onto Childe with a cool gaze, and then says, “We are here to witness these two idiots renew their vows, whatever that means. I don’t pretend to understand the strange mating rituals of mortals.” There are a few laughs from their audience, and Zhongli feels his cheeks burn pink, embarrassed. Xiao waves a hand. “Do whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”
Childe opens his mouth to speak, but Zhongli beats him to it. “Wait,” he says, “I know there was a plan, but I think I would like to go first.”
“I… okay.” Childe looks intrigued, at least, his head tilted to the side.
“Ajax.” Zhongli whispers his name, for while it’s known, this is still one of those things that he tends to keep to himself. “There are many things to say and I don’t know where to start.”
“Anywhere,” says Childe, trying to soothe him.
“These years spent together, I…” Childe is patient, so utterly patient as he stands there and lets Zhongli make an idiot of himself. “Months ago, I went to Madame Ping with a question that I had no answer to. I told her that I am happy and that you’ve brought me a life that I can barely fathom. Then I said, ‘It makes me wonder—what else is there’?”
Childe opens his mouth, but Zhongli holds up his hand, chuckling. “It was a concern as to what more I can offer you. I’ve given you all my love and more. A life, a family, truly everything that I can offer, and yet, there is a worry that it isn’t enough.”
“What did she say?” asks Childe, knowing that he shouldn’t interrupt.
“Er—what?”
“Madame Ping. What’d she tell you?”
Zhongli smiles then, his feelings betraying him. He tugs Childe’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “That there are no rules and that I get to love a person however that I wish.”
Childe’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “Oh,” he says. And then: “I’ve always liked that old goat.” There’s a snicker from behind them. Madame Ping, no doubt.
“Perhaps it is because I am old and set in my ways but I often see things as milestones to be had, and our love is no exception. I have never considered that it doesn’t have to be that way. With you, I am always learning. And so, my vows—” Zhongli laughs, nuzzling the soft skin of Childe’s palm. “They are exactly the same as the ones from the first time we married because there is no need to change something that isn’t broken, or prove myself to you in any way.”
Childe's lip wavers ever so slightly, just a soft little tremble that most would miss. Zhongli doesn’t, his gaze washing over Childe’s entire being. He’s so effortlessly handsome as he stands there, in his plain red shirt and trousers. “Your love,” starts Childe.
“Etched in stone,” finishes Zhongli, kissing that ring that sits on his finger. “Solid as the earth that I am built from. Unwavering as the rock that crafts Liyue. I am not going anywhere, Ajax.”
Childe breathes a comedic sigh of relief, rubbing at his face to wipe away the tears before anyone else can see them. “Gods, what a relief. And really, how can I follow that up?” He looks around them, trying to find his words. “Being a former Archon isn’t enough, right? He’s always gotta one-up me.”
Zhongli’s history is not a secret among this group. There is no need to hide it or play dumb.
“I tried writing mine down, you know,” continues Childe, pulling a wrinkled slip of paper from his breast pocket. “I’m shit at remembering things, even when I try, and I thought that maybe I’d get emotional, or—”
“Ajax, you’re rambling.” Zhongli finds a moment to tease him, even here.
“I just—” Childe sighs, dragging a hand through his carefully coiffed hair, ruining it. “It’s empty,” he finally says, “this paper. I’ve spent months trying to find words that express exactly what you are to me, and I can’t find them.”
The slip of paper in his hands is wrinkled and a little yellowed, but entirely bare.
“But, as I stood here, listening to you just repeat the same damn thing you said decades ago, I realized that there aren’t words that describe us. Zhongli, we just are.”
Oh, thinks Zhongli, his throat tightening.
“Zhongli,” says Childe then, his voice tipping low, “I can’t promise that I will always be a good husband. I can’t promise that I will never hurt you, or that I will make wise decisions, but I can promise you that you are my everything. That there is nothing else for me. My days begin with you, and they end with you, and that is the only way that I want to live out the rest of my miserable, pathetically short life.”
It is a thought that Zhongli has chosen to ignore for years, Childe’s inevitable demise.
“You’re old and ancient. I’m like, this small blip—” The space between Childe’s fingers is far too tiny for comfort. “— when compared to your life experiences. For me, though… my life is entirely defined by you.”
Zhongli kisses him. He reaches out and drags Childe forward, fingers curling into the loose linen of his shirt. Childe grunts in surprise, but kisses him back eagerly. This isn’t the plan, he’s supposed to wait until they’re told to do so. Xiao is affronted, face twisted by annoyance as he takes a step back. The rest of those who watch hold their breaths, unused to seeing Zhongli so blissfully forward.
Childe laughs against him, wrapping an arm around Zhongli’s neck, holding him close.
They lose track of time. Neither cares about their audience or how the sun is slowly dipping away, leading to the night. The only thing that matters is the calmness of their abode and the warmth that Zhongli drags out of Childe’s yielding form.
When they finally part, Childe asks, “What was that for?”
“Nothing,” says Zhongli before kissing him again, this time short and sweet.
It is disgusting, how much his chest swells. Zhongli feels like he could die with this sort of love, but it’d be a happy death in the arms of his husband. Childe fingers at his ring idly, staring at it. “It isn’t as though they were empty vows on our wedding day, but now I feel like I finally understand exactly what I meant by them.”
Zhongli agrees.
Then, Childe’s face is split by a mischievous grin. “Hey, come on.”
“Ajax, what are you—” Childe tugs him towards the water of the beach, their ceremony all but lost in the sand. The ocean is ice-cold against his bare feet, his toes sinking into the wet earth. “Ajax.”
Childe laughs as though he’s a boy again, his face wrinkling as he grins. He kicks up the ocean at Zhongli, who just stands there in the water, sunk to the spot like a solid stone.
They hold hands, refusing to let go, Childe’s calloused fingers an unwavering weight that anchors Zhongli.
It is, perhaps, the most perfect sunset that Zhongli has ever known.
#Cavalierious Fanfic#genshin impact#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin fanfic#genshin#zhongchi#zhongli/childe#etched in stone
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WIP TAG GAME
RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.
Tagged by @treemaidengeek (THANK!! 😃)
This was difficult, I kept not wanting to put a thing down because they were just a one line concept or title but it's in the rules, so I do the thing!! THIS GOT SO LONG HOLY SHIT I'M PUTTING IT UNDER READ MORE
TAGGING: @january-summers @madtomedgar @little-smartass & anyone who wants to because my brain is melted 🫠
One Offs
Xiyao (When Silk Flowers Bloom)
After the Temple
Taste of Luxury (MBMSAM)
Texts (MBMSAM)
No Evil
Ace Mingjue
Wen Qing/Qin Su
Xichen having FUN painting something silly /not like normal
Time Loop
Teach Him a Lesson (Ch. 5)
Mingjue Meets Baxia
3chen (ChenChenChen)
XXC/SL/JC
As All Things Do (Ch. 2)
Meng Yao Dancer AU
Calamity Ghost Jgy Post Canon
Meng Shi lives, sheltering Lan Xichen
Beyond Control (Ch. 2)
NMJ protect jgy from jins au
Wangxian let the world spin madly on
Wuxian is a ghost during 16 years, realizes feelings, sees A-Yuan grow up, sees Jiang Cheng, max angst --forgets the second he's resurrected [Seriously that's the title]
Parent Trap--Jin Ling makes Wwx and Jc hug DAMMIT
WWX and the only vaguely annoying haunting
Traveling with Xiao Xingchen
Peony To Lotus
How did Jiang Cheng react to Golden Core stuff?
Jin Zixuan comes to deliver invitation
Are You Here To Stop Me (Ch. 7)
ChengQing
WEN NING AND HUAISANG???
100 Days (Chapter of All the Things?)
Night Hunting at Jins >:)
Retaliation
Drunk and bitching about JZX as brother-in-law's
Wwx and Jgy both brought about end of Sunshot
JGY BIRTHDAY HAPPY AND SADS?? Everyone
Soup Bonding!!
First errand
Dancing with Yixin
Yanxiyao get together
Yanxiyao Fluff
Yanxiyao finding out
PHILANTHROPISTS/BURY MENG SHI
Yanxiyao Sick/Teamwork
Jgy decides he wants to fix WWX’s core
Swimming
Showing off Jgy
Mo Xuanyu
3zun Raise Jingyi AU
Holding Me Holding You (Ch. 7)
And A-Fu Makes 4 (Ch. 6)
THE BIG SWITCH/confronting daddy/6 month break down (it's not joy)
Competence Kink
NieYao Reconciliation
WEI WUXIAN
First Time Yanli decides Jgy is family dammit
Pre-reconciled NieLan Dueling with Thirsty JGY
Conference Night hunt with juniors
HOSTAGE??
AFTER FREAK OUT
Ask about grandparents
How did you get together?
Xichen Drunk
Nielan Snuggle (lxc pov)
JGY pushing boundaries/Mingjue’s buttons to test
Early morning full family goofy jokey
JGY doesn’t know games and it’s SAD
JGY skin hungry, feel safe (later)
Bonding Over Kids
3am Jin Bro Bonding
Mingjue frankly talking to Xichen about him dying/Talking with Jiang Yanli
how do 3zun deal with tantrums?
Stairs
NIEYAO MUST SNUGGLE
Jingyi's first hard night hunt
Visit Yunmeng with Yellow Father!
3zun cockblock LJY in later relationships?
Mo Xuanyu Coming Out
Weird Eating
‘Trust me’ RUN
KID #2
NHS POV
Lxc realizes he's been unhappy. He thought he was happy
Playful Xiyao seduction of nmj
HUSBANDS
Snowed In (Ch. 2)
Sword Shenanigans
Early 3zun Notes/getting together fic
Modern 3zun
When You No Longer Need To Endure (Ch. 2 & 3)
I Can Explain! (Ch. 3)
The Dadliest Chat (Ch. 2)
What do daddies do?
Jin Sibs Introduction to THE BABY
Dad Issues Confrontation
I wanna be a Stay At Home Dad, and I’m aware that makes me the worst person in the world
Sexy Times
Game Night
Mother's day is officially dubbed Yanli s day as only mother
Huaisang babysitting
Mo Xuanyu
Tarzan
Jin Papa's Road trip
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[320kps] Adorable Food Goddess / Meng Qi Shi Shen OP Theme
#萌妻食神#Adorable Food Goddess#Meng Qi Shishen#Meng Qi Shi Shen#donghua#Cinderella Chef#8d audio#320kps#The Tastes of Travels/ Tastes from Travelling by Xiao Yuan#meh can't find the right word to translate the title xP
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Snippet from Discord 34
(On Ao3)
Someone was playing the guqin, and the deep tones were shivering through Xuanyu's aching glass meridians.
The cold burn of remembered fear and pain was slowly receding, the heavy dark of repression and memory pressing down on his lungs less and less. Each breath wasn't as much of a strain on him, didn't take nearly so much energy to complete. His heart wasn’t crushed under the weight of a desire for the end but held aloft by sweet tones and gentle notes.
Xuanyu was tired, body heavy and soul weary, yet he didn't dream of the horrors of future's passed. Instead, each plucked string hummed through the marrow of his bones and shivered in his aching golden core, rejuvenating.
As if someone was washing a wound that had been left to fester for so long, he’d nearly had to remove the limb, like Xue Yang had been forced to so long ago.
Sometimes, he could feel his little Yuan curled up in his arms, patting softly at his cheeks and telling him about all the things he did, and he held him as tightly as his frail body could. Sometimes, he could feel the safety of Wei Wuxian's arms around him and leaned into it, soaking up that comfort and kindness.
Always, there was the guqin, a spring water well in an otherwise barren landscape, feeding water into a long dried out desert.
This was… oasis.
He wasn't aware that his eyes were open until he saw the flutter of gauzy white and blue, the glimmer of a fine silver hairpiece in midnight dark hair. The beauty of a man unbent by the trials given to him by a war not long won, with a steady and clear gaze, stalwart heart.
Oh.
Blinking slowly, heavily, he sank further into the bedding as he ran his gaze over the pale wood of the cultivation tool. This guqin was the most beautiful instrument that he'd ever seen so close, not having been permitted around Zewu-Jun and his xiao because of his half-brother. Each elegant movement sent sound and qi fluttering across his senses in a similar way to Wen Qing's acupuncture.
It took a moment of focusing through syrup and fog, but he eventually saw it, the disparity of color amongst the ethereal display.
Red.
Tiny droplets from long elegant fingers that bore musician's calluses, the tips splitting from the strain of continuous play. Hanguang-Jun had been playing nonstop for who knew how long, soothing the roiling mess inside Mo Xuanyu's meridians, inside his cracked mind. He was hurting himself for Xuanyu's sake – no, probably for Wei Wuxian, who fretted and cared so much – and he didn't want that.
He didn’t deserve that.
"Nn," words were beyond him, but he could reach out to set a shaking hand over one of those large, pale ones.
Despite what they looked like, cold and untouchable like the Jade he was likened to, Hanguang-Jun's hands were... Surprisingly warm. Xuanyu was trembling bodily as the Lan stopped playing, stilled beneath his touch.
His breathing felt loud in the sudden quiet.
The ache slid slow back into his joints, but he didn’t pull his weak, dirty hand back despite the wetness in his tired eyes.
"Mo Xuanyu," Lan Wangji's voice was cultured and low, hints of concern in his stern tone. "Alright?"
"You," a laborious breath as he dragged open eyes he hadn't realized closed to look up into concerned gold, a line of heat drifting from the corner of one eye. "H-hurt..."
His voice sounded rasped and thin, like old paper crumbling into ash in fire. As if he’d been screaming, but Mo Xuanyu had long ago learned how to be quiet in the face of suffering.
Screaming didn’t do anything.
No one would come.
Hanguang-Jun looked suddenly quite alarmed, his hand twisting to cover Mo Xuanyu's where he'd forgotten it sat. Oh, he really was warm. His calluses were rough, but his hold was gentle and the qi that filtered through him cool and sweet like the Cold Springs of his home were said to be.
"I did not – "
"Lan Zhan!" The beloved voice of Wei Wuxian called out, drawing that heat into his chest. "Is Mo Xuanyu awake?"
There was no time for the man to answer, seeing as the boisterous immediately bundled Xuanyu's too thin frame into his lap. Ah, he didn't deserve such kindness, such care, but he selfishly soaked in the protective affection of his Yiling Laozu. The mixture of resentment and echoing pure cultivation energy was a heady sensation that Xuanyu could gladly drown himself in.
"Pretty stranger~ pretty, pretty stranger~" was singsonged as one of those familiar ink stained hands tilted Xuanyu's face up to smile down at him with red warmed eyes. "Are you better now? I gobbled up the bad man and no one gets to hurt my Xuanyu," a thumb slid over his cheekbone, gentle and sweet. “And our Lan Zhan played you pretty songs to give you sweet sleep! Oh, A-Yuan has missed his lessons with his Yu-ge, we have so many knew things to learn!”
One trembling hand lifted towards a smiling mouth, and he felt his nearly numb face try to copy the expression, feeling brittle and shivery. Ah, he wasn't suited for smiling anymore, not as cracked and broken as he’d become, as a shadow of existence. Xuanyu hoped he didn't look too horrifying, trying to pretend to be a person.
"Hello, my Xuanyu," Wei Wuxian leaned into his thin, scarred palm, cradling it with his own hand as he smiled, that sharp, comforting thing. "Did you like our Lan Zhan's playing for you? He’s very talented, isn’t he?"
"H-he... Hurt..."
Red and gray eyes blinked in surprise before Wei Wuxian’s gaze was drawn to the little bit of blood smeared on Xuanyu's hand. Blood he hadn’t even realized was there until the Yiling Patriarch looked at it on his thin, spidery fingers and palm. Realization had those bright eyes turning to look at Hanguang-Jun, who shifted in discomfort, face almost pinched.
There was – regret?
Why was Hanguang-Jun upset?
"I – I did not intend –"
"Lan Zhan," the Yiling Patriarch interrupted with a smile and a free, clear laugh. "Lan Zhan! He doesn't mean you hurt him, but that you're hurt. Look at your hands, silly!"
As the man did as instructed, he seemed startled at the sight of his own blood; as if he hadn’t felt the skin splitting and nails cracking. Wei Wuxian turned back to Xuanyu with a fond roll of his eyes and that lovely cutting smile that only cut other people.
One of his Wei Wuxian’s hands was a comfortable weight against his side, the other still holding Xuanyu's as he smiled down at him warmly.
When he looked at him so fondly, Mo Xuanyu couldn't help but want for the impossible. Hanguang-Jun was right there, glancing between Xuanyu and his bloody fingertips with something softening in his shoulders.
Relief?
"Even when you aren't feeling well, you think of others," his Laozu commented warmly. "That's my pretty stranger."
And then, as always, Wei Wuxian did the unthinkable.
He felt his eyes widen as a hot wet tongue slid out of that smiling mouth to slide over the blood on Xuanyu's hand. Breath caught in heavy lungs as he felt his fingers twitch at the sensation, heart suddenly pounding hard in his throat. Wei Wuxian's hot breath felt cool against the wet lines he left behind as he cleaned Lan Wangji's blood from Xuanyu's skin.
Red eyes slid slyly to the side to meet startled wide gold, and qi shivered through the air like promise.
When the blood was all gone from Xuanyu's hand, Wei Wuxian simply breathed against his flesh for a long moment. Those bright eyes turned back to Xuanyu's and his friend – his – his – what even was he anymore – smiled against his skin, warmth and fondness and something – something else in his gaze.
"Wei Ying."
As if in a daze, he watched the Yiling Patriarch turn towards Hanguang-Jun and take one of his long fingered elegant hands in his own ink stained ones. The Lan looked as if he'd taken a blow to the head, face and ears flushed and pupils dilated as Wei Wuxian leaned forward to press his lips to cracked fingertips, tongue flickering out to taste.
He wasn't sure which one of them had made that punched out noise at the sight of it, but Mo Xuanyu felt hunger coil in his stomach. That was…
He could – he could still feel that?
What was... What was happening? Was Xuanyu having an especially pleasant dream that would ache like a cracked tooth when he woke up? Would he forget when he opened his eyes?
Was this real?
It couldn't possibly be real. Mo Xuanyu didn't deserve things like this, and as such never received them. There was nothing he’d done to deserve this, to have earned the regard of two such powerful, honorable people as this.
He'd never been wanted by people who he desired in turn.
Wei Wuxian's wicked tongue curled around one bloody fingertip, making Lan Wangji's hand twitch and Xuanyu's heart jump to his throat. Heat pooled in Hanguang-Jun's molten gold eyes and they traveled from the Yiling Patriarch down to where Xuanyu was still situated in his lap.
Like he was also –
"Wei Wuxian!" The familiar cutting voice of Wen Qing sliced through the tension like a battering ram through rice paper. "Come here!"
The feared, infamous Yiling Laozu yelped like a kicked dog and suddenly Xuanyu was in a very different lap. Well-muscled arms wrapped around him hurriedly and carefully, soft white silk a jarring difference from dark cloth.
Wei Wuxian scrambled to his feet and rushed out to the doctor's demand.
Swallowing thickly as his equilibrium struggled to find itself, he blinked rapidly, heart a heavy beat in his chest and throat. Without thought, he glanced up at Hanguang-Jun, meeting his stunned gaze with one of his own, uncertain as to what actually just happened.
It was automatic to duck his head against a broad chest in embarrassment to hide his face from the brazen eye contact, a familiar action with Wei Wuxian and his shamelessness.
His hair brushed against his cheek and for the first time he wondered just how dressed down he was.
Oh no.
Was he...
He was. He was in his simple sleeping robe, his favorite light blue one that Wei Wuxian had forced on him. His hair was improperly loose around his face and he was in Hanguang-Jun's lap like a - like -
"... Shall I play?"
Words seemed to difficult, so instead he shakily grabbed that powerful, graceful hand one again and shook his head negatively against that broad chest. Mo Xuanyu had long given up dignity, so there was little point in trying to extricate himself from the lap he’d so abruptly been deposited into.
Besides, Lan Wangji’s qi was… soothing.
“Then…”
A moment of silence, before that hand twisted in his once again and he was gently resituated in that wide lap into a more comfortable position. Cool, jasmine scented hair slid down against Xuanyu’s forehead, silkier and darker than his own wavy hair.
He kept his eyes closed and then –
Hanguang-Jun began to sing.
It was low and quiet, but it immediately settled into his meridians with a similar weight of cool consideration, even if the tune was different. His chest rumbled nicely, and Xuanyu relaxed the jittery tension he’d held in his too weak limbs at the sensation, familiarizing himself with different arms and sweeter qi.
If this was a dream… Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to wake up.
#mdzs#mdzs snippets#The untamed#Mo Xuanyu/Wei Wuxian/Lan Wanji#Mo Xuanyu#Wei Wuxian#Lan Wangji#Time Travel#Sweet Dreams
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