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“Aiyah, Lan-guoshi, don’t look so mad!”Lan Wangji was not mad, but this Wei Ying had yet to learn to read his face.“It’s just a drawing, look–look!” The boy gestured to the artful portrait of his elder, beautifully lined with a flower in his hair.Just like he always had, every life before. Lan Wangji felt his chest clench, but ignored the feeling. “And your lines? How many rules have you copied?”The black haired boy in ripped jeans and a graphic tee looked sheepish, scuttling back to his desk in the library pavillion across from Lan Wangji. “I’ve written–ya’know–a lot today! It’s not wrong to take a break.”Lan Wangji hummed a noncommittal noise, carefully sliding the drawing that Wei Ying left on his desk under a stack of other papers, for safekeeping. He would neatly place it in a plastic binder later, next to the others. “C’mon, I’ll finish it all tomorrow. I promise–don’t you love spending time with me?” Wei Ying grinned, that same bright smile that tore craters into the immortal Lan’s heart in every incarnation.Yes, Lan Wangji thought. But he wouldn’t tell him, not yet. Not at Wei Ying’s current age, or his current golden core strength. He’d made that mistake too many times before.A bell on Wei Ying’s phone chimed. “Welp, look at the time. See you again at three tomorrow, Lan-guoshi?” Wei Ying had clearly already packed his bag and had been just on the edge of bouncing out of his chair for the past half hour. The drawing was just another piece of evidence of that.“Mn.” Lan Wangji affirmed. He watched that black haired ponytail, short, just at his shoulders, tied in a red ribbon as always, as the boy skipped to the exit. With a sigh, the immortal elder closed his eyes. The first time around, Lan Wangji hadn’t been so subtle. He had found the young orphan in Yiling, 159 years to the day he had lost his beloved. Carrying a half-ripped doll and dirt on his pants, the boy had tear streaks across his muddied face yet still gave a fearsome pout when the older cultivator kneeled before him. “Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji breathed, reaching for the boy. He flinched, and the Lan elder’s hand stuttered. He closed his eyes, counted to five, then tried again. “Wei Ying. You’re back. You’re–you’re finally back.”The boy, his silver eyes wide and concerned, took a stumbling step backwards. “Wei-” Lan Wangji started, aghast, as the boy immediately turned tail and ran. Of course, like any sensible adult, Lan Wangji chased him. A breath 5 minute jog later, the boy was aggressively biting at Lan Wangji’s hand, trying to escape the firm grip that held his right arm steady. Tears were falling down his face and he was sobbing, mumbling, crying out words that didn’t really have meaning. At least to Lan Wangji.“W-Weirdo! S-Stop! Kidnapp’r!” The boy screamed. Villagers looked on, but ducked their heads at the prestine immortal who was the villian to the young boy’s accusations. Those who didn’t earned a firm glare from the prestigeous Hanguang-Jun, known to all as a righteous, if not strict, immortal elder of the Lan Clan.“Come with me to Gusu, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji knelt beside the boy, his ears red. The boy huffed, out of breath and running low on liquids to cry out in tears. The child glared at him. “I’m not Wei Ying! You’ve got the wrong guy!” He exclaimed. Those strong, silver eyes met head on with Lan Wangji’s golden yellow. “You are Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said again. He knew that face, those eyes, that stubborn pout, anywhere. Even more certain was the flash of emotion that flew through the older cultivator’s chest upon laying eyes on the boy. It was said that strong cultivators will always react to reincarnations of significant people in their lives. Crying, glaring anger, or in Lan Wangji’s case–desperation, hope, and love. Oh, how he could feel that overwhelming warmth when he crossed paths with the child. The aching pain that ricocheted through his chest and told him, there. That’s who you’ve been looking for. Waiting for. Yearning for.“I’m not! I’m not!” Wei Ying sobbed into Lan Wangji’s white robes as he was carried bodily onto Bichen, rising into the air for the long journey back to Gusu. “Let-Let me go! K-Kiddnapp’r!”Lan Wangji ignored the boy’s protests. It wasn’t hard, after so many years of learning the difference between true and faked distress within Wei Ying’s voice. Lan Wangji carried the boy close to his chest, even when he felt his little hands go weak and finally succumb to rest. Even when the boy awoke, took one look at the ground, hundreds of meters below them, and screamed. “Where are we going?” Wei Ying asked, his voice horse from sobbing through the night. He was wrapped in Lan Wangji’s outter robe, having begun to shiver in the wind. “Home.” Lan Wangji smiled. Wei Ying was not named Wei Ying in this life, Lan Wangji learned. But he couldn’t bring himself to call the child anything else, and neither could Lan Sizhui or Lan Xichen. So at first, the child whined, cursed, and sobbed. But upon tasting Lan Wangji’s extra spicy lotus and pork rib soup, the boy began to settle in. He dressed in the Lan white robes and ribbon, and took to cultivation quickly. Wei Ying lived with Lan Wangji in the Jinshi. He practiced calligraphy, learned to string a bow, and refused to share a bed with the older cultivator. “It’s weird!” Wei Ying shouted again at Lan Wangji. “We’re not married! I’m going to bed, and you’re staying over there!” He would say as he climbed into his own cot across the room.Lan Wangji didn’t let his emotions cross his face, but he could feel the hole in his chest widen with each passing month. On occasion, Wei Ying would cry out in his sleep, and let himself be cuddled to rest after crawling into Lan Wangji’s bed.Lan Wangji lived for those moments. He held himself back at all other times, but when a red-faced, teary-eye Wei Ying climbed under the covers and buried his face into Lan Wangji’s chest with silent sobs, the older cultivator thanked the Cycle for bringing back his beloved. But three years after he first arrived in the Cloud Recesses, on his 12th birthday, Wei Ying made a request that tore Lan Wangji apart.“I want to live with the other boys my age, er-gege. Everyone else moved into the dorms at ten, and it’s weird, right? That I’m not living there too. It makes it look like I’m different or something. It’s weird.”The older cultivator closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew this was coming.Since the start, Lan Wangji had coached his brother and son from letting the reincarnated boy learn of his previous position within the Lan clan. It’s well known that a weak golden core, particularly one as young as Wei Ying’s, could qi deviate if confronted with memories of their past life before they were ready. The only living members with memories of that generation within the Lan Clan were Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, and Lan Sizhui. All three had been considered immortal for nearly a century and all three had known that when Wei Ying returned, his own past would be concealed for his own health. But even so, the pain in Lan Sizhui’s eyes when Wei Ying called him “gege”, and the dry swallow Lan Xichen made when Wei Ying called him “sect leader Lan”, would create a dent in Lan Wangji’s chest every time he saw it. But this? This was so much worse.“No. You may not live in the dorms.” Lan Wangji crossed his arms under his robes. His eyes dared the young boy to challenge him.And of course, he did.“One must not be unreasonable,” Wei Ying quoted the precepts. Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. “Tell me why not.”“Do not question your elders. Do not covet others’ paths.” Lan Wangji replied. “You may not live in the dorms.” He repeated.“But WHY?” Wei Ying raised his voice. Lan Wangji winced at the sound as it echoed across the jinshi. “Why can’t I live in the dorms? Why can’t I go by my birth name? Why did you kidnap me?”“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji warned. The boy knew Lan Wangji didn’t like the usage of “kidnap” for their situation–another “why?” question which was left unanswered.“That’s not my name!” The boy screamed, yanking the sliding door of the Jinshi open. “Call me it one more time–see what happens!”“Do not make undue threats.”“It’s not an undue threat!” He screamed back. “Do not raise your voice in the Cloud Recesses, Wei-”Birds in the nearby trees flew off at the sound as the boy sprinted from the building at the first sound of the name. Lan Wangji gave chase, just like those three years before. But this time, the boy had Suibian in hand, clumsily mounting the sword and rising from the ground. At first, just a meter. Then another, then ten, then fifty, each moment getting higher and farther from the quaint providence of the Cloud Recesses. “Wei Ying, please–!” Lan Wangji quickly followed on his own sword. The juniors were still training their sword-flying skills, and although the boy was a genius, his core was too weak for emotional flight. The youth turned at the name, giving one final glare, and then, with a shout, lost his balance and plummeted to the Earth. Lan Wangji was by his side one moment too late. Blood covered the white robes that Wei Ying had donned just that morning, the tail end of his ribbon soaking up the redness like the ribbons he had worn in his hair in his previous life. Lan Wangji clutched the boy to his chest, cradling his head and unseeing eyes. “No… Please…” Lan Wangji begged, brushing the bangs off the youth’s forehead. “Not again, don’t leave me again, don’t–”The boy blinked slowly, then coughed up blood and moaned in pain. He stared up at the older cultivator, those silver eyes shining with tears.Lan Wangji sobbed as other members of the Lan ran to their aid. His hands glowed with healing spiritual energy, but no amount of power could fix what gravity had done. A single hand, bloodied, raised to wipe away the tears on the Lan heir’s face. “It’s alright, Lan Zhan.” A horse voice cooed, broken. Lan Wangji looked up in awe, hearing that voice say his birth name for the first time in this lifetime. Wei Ying’s silver eyes sparkled, that tell-tale smile across his face. “I’ll see you again next time too. You’ll come find me?”Lan Wangji clutched that palm to his face, sobs shaking his shoulders. “Always.” He shuttered as Wei Ying’s bright eyes lost their luster. “I’ll always come find you, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji rose from his desk in the library pavilion. Cleaning his space with precise fingers, he tucked the newest drawing from his beloved into a leather briefcase. With calm, unhurried steps the Lan immortal walked to the Jinshi. It had grown bigger over the years, most notably with a second room tucked into the back. This room only opened with a mechanical key that Lan Wangji wore around his neck. The walls were charmed to withstand a nuclear fallout, and the door was developed to prevent any radio technology from penetrating its depths. With a swift, practiced hand, Lan Wangji opened the door and shut it behind him. He flicked on the light, a warm yellow that didn’t leave that ugly florescent cast that modern lights did. To his right, Lan Wangji lifted a plastic binder with pristine edges despite its age. He delicately flipped through the countless pages of drawings contained in clear plastic, all almost exactly the same. Portraits of him, with a single flower in his hair. He smiled. His Wei Ying was so predictable, so precious.He took a deep breath, inhaling the air of his sanctuary. Or, specifically–Wei Ying’s. On the back wall before him sat shelves and shelves of urns, each marked with dates that went back centuries. The smallest was the second from the top, holding a cremated child of only twelve years. Wrapped around the lid was a threadbarren Lan ribbon, the blood red it was dyed with having faded to brown over time. To love someone is to let them go, and to let them grow. If they return to you, then they love you, because of you, and not what you raised them to do. If they never come back, then it was never meant to be.This was something Lan Wangji learned through the centuries. Wei Ying would always come back for him. He just needed to be patient and let Wei Ying make his own choices. He turned to the wall to his left. Photographs, perfectly arranged side by side, covered the entire span of bamboo wall. When the advent of photography arrived–the ability to capture his Wei Ying’s visage, eternally, on film–Lan Wangji had quickly ascended from amatur to professional to leading educator in camera arts. His Wei Ying’s smile, pout, long legs and delicious bottom greeted him across hundreds of black and white images. Wei Ying was beautiful in monochrome, but now finally, Wei Ying in color had made its way onto the wall. Wei Ying eating lunch with a phone in hand, Wei Ying practicing sword forms on the training field, Wei Ying smiling at the camera, holding bunny ears over his adoptive brother’s head. Lan Wangji had created an Instagram for the explicit purpose of collecting that last image for his wall. Then, as always, Lan Wangji clasped his hands together, lit an incense before the urns, and thanked the Cycle for returning his Wei Ying to him.
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Every 150 years, on the exact day of his passing, Wei Ying would be reincarnated. Sometimes, he would have a new name. Sometimes he would not. Sometimes Lan Wangji would find him early in his life. Sometimes, he would not. Lan Wangji loved Wei Ying like a moth to flame. Disastrously, dangerously, possessively and all-consuming. Even without looking, Wei Ying would find him in every lifetime. On a late Autumn night, 175 years after Lan Wangji watched his youthful beloved pass away in his arms, he felt his heart ache as he looked upon a man in a mask as he performed at a tea house. A dizi in hand, telling the epic of a young pair of star-crossed cultivators battling a giant turtle in a cave prior to the Sunshot campaign. Lan Wangji swallowed as he listened to that voice sing of stolen glances, bitten arms, and stubborn words. Afterwards, he approached the man and bought him dinner, then a night in the closest inn. “Aren’t you going to ask my name before you take me?” The performer stretched his neck, giving the cultivator plenty of access to that space above his shoulder that he’d been eyeing all night. The performer was straddling his lap, snaking his hands between his robes like he did every night all those years before.“You didn’t ask for mine, either.”The performer laughed, good hearted and full. It brought a warmth to Lan Wangji’s chest that he’d so sorely missed. “That’s because I feel like I already know you, gege.”Lan Wangji smiled, fire burning in his chest. Although Wei Ying’s fledgling core in this lifetime was quite weak, his self-taught musical cultivation was blindingly effective in a way the performer likely didn’t realize himself. “Your story–about the lovers and the turtle–where did you hear it from?” Lan Wangji asked, palming the man’s bottom above his pants. “A dream, I think.” Wei Ying muttered. “I don’t really know. I was just playing my dizi, and one day, it was just obvious to me. Like a memory.”“Like a memory.” Lan Wangji repeated. “What else do you know, like it’s a memory?”Wei Ying thought for a moment. “Well– Ah!” He yelped, interrupted as Lan Wangji had completely exposed his ass to the bedroom air. A blush spread across his cheeks as the cultivator twirled a wet finger against his rim, lightly pushing against his hole and then retreating to play with the rim again.“Keep going. You didn’t answer the question.” Lan Wangji continued, using his free hand to push the man’s robes off his shoulders to hang over his elbows. He then began to pinch his pebbled left nipple, still leaving red marks and bruises all across the performer’s shoulders.“I– That’s– Ah!” Wei Ying tried to respond. He absentmindedly rut against the body of the cultivator before him, trying to get friction against his crotch. Lan Wangji leaned back, preventing the action. “Wait, I-, please–”Lan Wangji pressed his finger into his hole to the knuckle, relishing in the steady breath it tore from Wei Ying’s mouth. His moans changed pitch, becoming higher, higher. Obsence and lewd wet sounds echoed across the room as Lan Wangji fucked that finger into Wei Ying, then got louder as a second finger was added. “Oh, that’s, oh please…!” Wei Ying bounced against Lan Wangji’s hand. Losing all control, the cultivator enveloped Wei Ying’s mouth with his own. Their crossed tongues brought a moan to Wei Ying’s throat, saliva dripping down their joint lips. When Lan Wangji leaned back, he took in the sight of Wei Ying, his eyes half-lidded and spit-slicked mouth ajar. A rosy hue spread across his cheeks and his body trembled in Lan Wangji’s lap, a damp spot in Wei Ying’s trousers where the head of his hard cock strained against the fabric. Lan Wangji bodily lifted Wei Ying across the bed, laying him on his back. He looked utterly debauched as Lan Wangji stripped him of his pants, undressing from his own white robes as if anafterthought.Looking down at the nude Wei Ying, so perfect, panting and cock hard, leaking against his abs, Lan Wangji took a moment to thank the Cycle once more.“Please, please…” Wei Ying begged with tears in his eyes.Lan Wangji took Wei Ying’s chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Please what?”“I can’t, I need, I need–”“What do you need?” Lan Wangji leaned over him, both hands pulling at the hard brown nipples on the man’s chest.“Please, please–” He thrust his hips upwards, moaning in remorse when Lan Wangji used a leg to hold his body down against the bed.“Use your words, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji commanded–then felt his own heart stutter at the image of the man before him.The performer in front of him jolted at the name, his eyes still debauched but a smug smile on his face. Lan Wangji instantly knew that he knew.“Fuck me like you used to, Lan Zhan.” He spoke, his words undermined by the whimper he made when Lan Wangji pinched both nippled incrimentally harder. Lan Wangji’s eyes became darker as Wei Ying challenged, “Or, did you forget how, old man?”“Mark your words.” Lan Wangji muttered, pinning the man’s wrists above his head and tying them with his ribbon in a practiced move he hadn’t used in centuries. Wei Ying swallowed, holding back a groan as Lan Wangji pressed three wet fingers into his body, crooking them up in a way to perfectly hit that spot inside of him.“Oh, oh fuck, I can’t, I’m gonna cum soon, please–” Wei Ying whimpered, squeaking obscenities as Lan Wangji removed his hand and positioned himself above him. “I love you, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said as he pressed his cock into Wei Ying’s warmth, watching Wei Ying’s eyes widen in pleasure at the feeling. “I’ll always find you. Always.”Wei Ying moaned an approval, his breaths filled with little “ah, ah, ah”s as Lan Wangji thrust into him over and over again. “Love you, always think of you, always waited for you–” Wei Ying’s voice churned out as he lost himself to pleasure. “Wei Ying, so good, so good for me, so beautiful–” Lan Wangji took Wei Ying’s cock into his hand, feeling his warmth as he jerked him between them.“Please, ah, I’m so close– I’m gonna– Lan Zhan please, Lan–”Wei Ying trembled, his voice getting quiet and high pitched as he came, repeating “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan” in a beloved, heartfelt chant. His cock spurted between their bodies, little weak jolts that brought happiness to Lan Wangji’s chest. With a rapid, then stuttering, thrust, Lan Wangji followed Wei Ying over the edge, feeling Wei Ying’s body clench around him in pleasure. It was so good, it was too good, it was Wei Ying, his Wei Ying, here again and loving him and–Lan Wangji held Wei Ying against his chest in the afterglow, sobbing lightly as Wei Ying pet his back, making soft sounds and cooing affirmations. They cleaned up and fell asleep, holding each other as if the moment they let go, they would both fall apart.