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Twin Jades' Adventure
'Stay here. Lan Zhan, nod if you understand. I need to find XiChen Ge. Shit, shit, shit. What have I done?'
He nodded.
But in truth, Lan WangJi did not understand a word for he'd been too busy counting the freckles on Wei Ying's face. Twenty-seven, to be exact, but the summer sun was young and had many more seeds to plant upon those fair cheeks. By midsummer, Wei WuXian's amber skin would be dusted like a farm boy's.
And his moles. His beauty marks. Beneath Wei WuXian's polished lips was WangJi's favorite to taste. And the four within the shell of his ear like little sea sprites, WangJi's favorite to trace. The moles from his neck to his chest to his waist, WangJi's favorite to kiss. Every evening he mapped new constellations like an astronomer flirting with the night sky. Suddenly, Lan WangJi's lips tingled as they remembered the cosmos—they burned with the lust of a thousand stars.
Then a frost came when he realized he was all alone in the Jingshi. His husband had disappeared! He whined, displeased.
"W'ing?"
Lan WangJi rose from the bed and stumbled on cold, intoxicated toes. He rummaged through drawers of paper, peered between bookshelves, shook out feather-endowed pillows. He smooshed his cheek to the floor as he looked beneath a table and slurred again, "Wei Ying?"
It seemed the drunk man had forgotten his husband was not, in fact, pocket-sized.
But Gods, that would be cute, and Lan Zhan was suddenly in desperate need of one.
Oh, he should probably find his life-sized husband first.
The only logical explanation WangJi's clouded mind could come up with was that Wei Ying was lost. Lost not in the way he'd been as the Yiling Patriarch, but like a dog who'd slipped from its collar.
And that's how Lan WangJi became a drunkard with two left feet wondering through the Cloud Recesses. He hobbled and stumbled and tripped every step, knocking into bamboo trees and patting the green girth with a weak apology.
"Wei Yiiiiiing!"
"Over here!" Someone responded.
Following the voice, he had a skip in his step. Wei Ying! Wei Ying! Wei Ying! But what he found was... not Wei Ying. Hunched on all-fours, cooing at something in the grass, was Lan XiChen.
"Gege?"
He remembered then, in a blink of clarity, that the three of them had sat around the table for a celebratory drink. Celebrating what, well, not even Wei Ying had an answer, but he was quick to guilt-trip them into indulgence with his fluttering lashes and fat lips—stupid, kissable, pink lips glazed like doughnuts and tasting of heaven. Surrounded by freckles. Above a mole. A mole he loved to taste. And something about stars.
