“I have a job for you,” Wen Qing says when she occupies the seat before Wei Wuxian. He chews his food slowly, watching as his friend slash boss looks over the details of his next job on a sheet of paper, sipping on her tea slowly. “I would send A-Ning, but the travel might be a little strenuous for him.”
Wei Wuxian looks at the ceiling and sighs. “I just arrived from Lanling.”
“And you’re back in Yiling now. What’s your point?” Wen Qing says, brow arched.
He knows not to argue with her over the years, knowing that he probably will never win, but the tiredness in his bones throb, and he particularly misses his husband.
Lan Wangji is an auto-memory doll from the Gusu Post, one of Qishan Postal’s many competitors, but it is not a secret that he is Wei Wuxian’s husband. Both postal companies have agreed to not put them against each other for various jobs, to which Wei Wuxian is thankful; as much as he loves his husband, he can get a little competitive, and he is willing to show him his eloquent prose to kick is butt.
Still, as much as Lan Wangji is a doll, he is Wei Wuxian’s lover first, so his letters to him are often too good to be shared to anyone. He also likes his husband’s choice of paper and typeface, choosing various typebars that fit his mood.
Wen Qing snaps her fingers impatiently as he drools over the idea of his husband replacing the typewriter’s ribbon spool, tainting his long slender fingers with ink.
“Wen Qing, I miss my husband!” Wei Wuxian whines. “We haven’t seen each other in ages!”
“It’s been a week, do not exaggerate; it’s unbecoming,” Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise I’ll give you a break after this; I just need you for this one badly.”
Wei Wuxian blinks. “Wait, why?”
“You are to write the courting letters of Prince Nie Huaisang of Qinghe for the King of Yunmeng.”
He is instructed to pack a week’s worth of clothing, which means that it might go on for a little longer than has been said.
The travel to Qinghe has never been the easiest, as it has been known as a fortress in the mountains during the Great War, but the peaceful days have transpired, and with the union between Qinghe and Yunmeng on the horizon, the people of both kingdoms are hopeful for a fruitful union.
Wei Wuxian looks over the steep cliffs as the carriage plod through the narrow road, bracing for dear life.
“I love this job, I love this job, I love this job,” Wei Wuxian chants, closing his eyes tight. His luggage topples over, clothes exploding in a red disarray.
He is welcomed to Qinghe by Nie Zonghui, the current King’s right hand man and advisor.
“The King would like to extend his apologies for not being able to welcome you personally,” he says, taking his bags from his hands. Wei Wuxian shakes his hand no, assuring him that he would not rather disturb whatever it is the King is doing. “The Prince… can be a little difficult during mornings…”
“Ah,” Wei Wuxian says out loud, unsure how to react. Thankfully, the other says nothing but leads the way through town, where the people’s smiles are kind and happy. He finds himself smiling throughout their walk, even when people single him out as a stranger; his clothing choice is definitely peculiar in these parts, a red and black robe wrapped tight around his waist, held in place by a black sash. His hair is tied up in a high pony by a white ribbon tinged in blue, the silver centerpiece engraved with the Gusu Cloud motif glistening in the sunshine.
The ribbon sways as the wind blows against their direction, and the very sight of it causes his heart to ache.
All is temporarily forgotten when the gates of the Unclean Realm tower over them in all its glory.
Before the King bows Wei Wuxian, doing it with his normal flourish, bowing and closing his eyes as he smiles. “I am Wei Wuxian, an auto-memory doll from Qishan Postal, at your disposal, your majesty.”
The court seems to find him enthralling enough to gasp at the gesture, and he stands up, meeting the King’s eyes.
“I was told that you are the best in Yiling,” The King says. “I am Nie Mingjue, current King of Qinghe Nie.” He stands from his throne and starts walking, gesturing to Wei Wuxian to follow him.
They walk through the halls of the castle, which resembles a stronghold more. The grounds are empty as they walk, and Wei Wuxian realizes that the only person who followed them from the courtroom is Nie Zonghui.
“I hope you understand what is riding in this,” Nie Mingjue says. Wei Wuxian decides that he likes the King’s voice — a strong, loud presence that somehow holds more than his kingdom together. It is obvious in the courtroom that his own court believes in him and would follow him to the ends, and he wonders if that blind faith is ill-founded or not. “This has been a long process for us, and we finally decided to tie with Yunmeng Jiang to move on from the tragedies our forefathers have brought upon our lands.”
“What seems to be the problem, then?” Wei Wuxian asks.
They stand over a door to a room. Nie Mingjue throws both doors open, wood clacking against each other as it does, and says, “My brother refuses to marry someone he does not love, apparently.”
In the middle of the room sleeps Nie Huaisang, crowned prince of Qinghe.
When the prince is decently dressed in the common grays and muted greens of Qinghe, he sits by his study with a pout.
“I do not need a doll,” Nie Huaisang says, sparing a single look to Wei Wuxian, who only smiles in response. “Contrary to popular belief, Your Majesty, I’m not actually an idiot.”
“Yunmeng has sent over two letters,” Nie Mingjue says, throwing the letters on his table, along with two wilted lotus flowers. “You have not responded to any of them. I can only pretend that you’re sick for so long, Huaisang. Next time, they might actually send a doctor along with the letter just to see if you’re still breathing.”
“What an eager King,” Nie Huaisang muses, looking through the letters with not much interest, or so he thinks. Wei Wuxian looks at him fondly, trying to hide the amused smile he is sporting. “Nothing else to do in Yunmeng?”
“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue warns. “He is to be your husband.”
“If he is, he should know how to wait,” Nie Huaisang says, taking the wilted buds by the hand and throwing it away from him. “Leave.”
The air is tense in the room, and Nie Mingjue takes it as his cue to leave.
“Doll,” the prince calls out. “Stay.”
Wei Wuxian wants to laugh at how he single handedly demanded the King of the kingdom to leave the room, as if he has more power over the Kingdom than he may let it seem.
The prince calls for tea when they’re alone, and Wei Wuxian takes the empty seat across the table where he sits.
“I was told you could be a little difficult during mornings, your highness,” Wei Wuxian says, mostly to figure him out.
“As you can see,” Nie Huaisang shrugs. “How are you enjoying Qinghe so far?”
“It is a lovely kingdom,” Wei Wuxian says in full honesty. “I’ve had a taste of the famed mulberries.” He shows three fingers stained with the juice. “Luckily, all my clothes are black.”
“A wretched fruit,” the prince mumbles. “It stains everything it touches. I am named after the fruit, so maybe… in a way…”
Wei Wuxian sees his eyes, clouded with doubt and… something else.
“Is it untoward of me to ask if you wish to walk around for a short while, your highness?”
While the Unclean Realm has its own share of ominous energy, seeing an open plain extending far and wide is assuring. The prince’s direct servant ushers them into a mat they could sit on as they talk. Nie Huaisang plops down unceremoniously, his robe bundling around him. Wei Wuxian takes the space beside him silently.
“Doll,” the prince says. “You did not tell me your name.”
“Ah, that was impolite of me,” Wei Wuxian gasps. He carefully stands before the prince and bows, repeating his introduction. “I am Wei Wuxian, an auto-memory doll from Qishan Postal, at your disposal, your highness.”
“Tell me, Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, staring at the unopened letters before him. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Of course, your highness,” He replies, immediately flooded by thoughts of Lan Wangji. He raises his left hand and shows off a simple gold band around his ring finger. “I am happily married to a beautiful man.”
Wei Wuxian sits again, now across the prince. “May I ask a question, your highness?”
“A-Sang,” the prince corrects. “Please.”
“The question, if I’m permitted?”
The prince nods.
“Why have you not read the letters from your betrothed?”
He looks down at the letters, then passes it on to Wei Wuxian. “I want you to check if it is written by a doll.”
Prince Nie Huaisang of Qinghe,
In many ways, I am a child. Being given this throne at such an early age has been daunting, but with the thought of you beside me eases the worry I feel on the daily.
Would it make sense to spill out my heart on a letter such as this, when everyone would know what it contains? Or does it thrill you, for them to know that you are what my heart yearns for?
Betrothed or not, I wish to hear everything about you.
I may have embarrassed myself enough in one sitting, so this will suffice for now.
Yours, always and forever,
Jiang Cheng of Yunmeng
“Ah,” Wei Wuxian giggles knowingly. “This is a very specific letter. His doll would have had the hardest time tweaking it to the King’s approval.”
“So it is a doll’s work,” The prince mumbles.
“You are mistaken, if you think that the contents of the letters we write are from us, A-Sang,” The doll says. He raises the second letter in view and the Prince nods, allowing him to open it for inspection. “Dolls are simply mediators. We relay words that already exist; we can never fake the contents of one’s heart, and I’m sure the King has thought each one through.”
“It is silly,” Nie Huaisang says. “He would never think of me, not in a way that matters to me.”
Wei Wuxian decides to read the second one in silence, just to watch how the prince reacts to it. He hums and ahs accordingly, causing the other to groan. “Just tell me what it says!”
“You are curious,” The doll laughs. “Why not read it yourself?” The prince turns slightly pink. The wind blows through them, bringing chill on a humid day. “He wishes to know if he has spoken out of turn with his abrupt letter.”
“Not at all,” Nie Huaisang replies. He asks for the letter back and reads through it slowly. “He seems wary of my lack of response.”
“The people are too, I believe,” Wei Wuxian says. He recalls that woman selling mulberries earlier today. “They wonder if the King is a proper match for you.”
“Not the other way around?”
During the afternoon, he presents the letter the prince asked him to craft in response to the first two letters sent over from Yunmeng. The prince passes the letter to the King, who reads it out loud.
King Jiang Cheng of Yunmeng Jiang,
Please forgive my delayed response; I have been overcome by a feeling of dread upon reading your letters, and while many seem delighted over our betrothal, I find myself wondering if it’s the case with you, too.
You must know this feeling a little too well, too; not knowing if this match is wanted and returned as fondly as I do.
Let me offer my apologies, nonetheless, along with the hope of meeting you once more, by the lake, with flowering lotuses signaling the height of spring.
There is not much to know about me, unless you want to hear about paintings and ink staining my robes in the night — that, I can speak of until you get tired of me!
Will this suffice, for now?
“This sounds like Huaisang, alright,” Nie Mingjue huffs. “So cheeky.”
The prince laughs in delight. “Down to the T! Well done; you are quite efficient, Wei Wuxian.” He turns to his brother and raises his brows. “Does this response please the King?”
“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue sighs, running his fingers through the prince’s hair. “We thought it was best for him to woo you before he asks for your hand; I thought you’d be pleased.”
Nie Huaisang nods. “I am. I’m thankful, really.”
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” The King says. “The King of Yunmeng can find another husband, but they would never best you.”
“Truly?” He asks, sounding worried.
Wei Wuxian looks away, not wanting to seem as if he’s prying.
A copy of Nie Huaisang’s response is read in the plaza, and people swoon at his expression of wanting to meet.
Figuring that he is done for the day, Wei Wuxian asks Nie Zonghui if there’s an available telephone he could use to call his husband. The man leads him in his temporary room near to the nearest wooden wall telephone. As soon as he settles his things and typewriter, he rushes to the phone and dials the number at home.
No one answers it.
“That’s strange,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, hanging up. Unsatisfied, he dials the number at Yiling Postal, and asks the operator to redirect it to Wen Qing’s office.
“Wen Qing speaking.”
“Ah!” Wei Wuxian gasps in delight. “Wen Qing, I’m here! Have you seen the papers? The prince responded!”
“Wei-xiong, the letter was amazing! Not at all something you’d hear from me!”
“Wen Ning!” He laughs. “That’s hardly a feat, but I’d allow myself to be praised!”
“Don’t be too complacent, you’re there for a job. This is a delicate matter, A-Xian. This is the prelude to a union that has been on the works for years,” Wen Qing says. There is a sound of paper shuffling in the background.
“Yes, yes,” He says. “By the way, I tried calling home, but Lan Zhan seems to be out?”
“Ah, of course you don’t know,” Wen Qing says, amused. “This is breaching protocol, but since you are married, I think there’s a need for you to know his whereabouts, at least.” Wei Wuxian waits with bated breath. “Lan Wangji is in Yunmeng. He was hired to be the auto-memory doll for the King.”
The King of Yunmeng is quick to reply, which sweeps the nation by storm.
The Prince fiddles with his hair as Nie Zonghui reads the letter aloud in the presence of the whole court, refusing to seem interested at it, but Wei Wuxian knows better — the Prince has a tell, and it’s far more obvious than he may seem to hide it.
Nie Huaisang has the tendency to tuck his hair behind his ear when he’s talking about his betrothed.
When the doll comments on it when they’re planning the response, he smiles idly, yet it does not reach his eyes. “I have long hair, doll.” He looks down on his lap, where the lotus flower that came with the letter sits, pink and in full bloom. “There are lotus growing in remote areas here, but not as beautiful as they have it in Yunmeng.”
“You’ve ever been, your highness?” Wei Wuxian asks. Nie Huaisang realizes his slip up, and sighs.
“I have. On Jiang Wanyin’s coronation,” he replies, stretching his arms up. “The Lotus Pier is beautiful beyond words; I am told that Jiang Yanli used to tend to the flowers herself before she moved to the Carp Tower.”
“So you’ve met your betrothed?”
“I have,” Nie Huaisang giggles to himself. “I couldn’t believe it; he is to be king! He is scared of his own shadow, feeling too inferior with the amount of talent that came to visit him. But I was no one; he was not afraid of me.” He stands up and sets the flower on the table. He walks to the windows and slides it open, smiling at the gentle breeze entering the room. “Back then, he didn’t think he was worth all the effort. The crown felt heavy on his head, he said.
“But it suits him! Ah, Wei Wuxian, he is as beautiful as the rest of the Lotus Pier. He didn’t know it yet then, but when he was crowned, he looked as if he was leading a fight. His eyes spoke for him; it is hard not to notice that detail about him.”
“But no one else saw,” Wei Wuxian completes for him, and Nie Huaisang nods.
“We talked the entire night by the lake, sitting on the pier and eating lotus seeds. No one bothered to look for him, which would have been insulting to him, but he found comfort in my company, so I took his mind off of it. It worked, and I walked him back to his own party. That night, I asked my brother if there’s a chance for me to choose which family I’d marry into, and he said that I had every right to choose.
“It wasn’t an easy ordeal, of course; I had to be wise about my scheming. My brother and I looked through candidates together, and presented the options in court. But in my heart, I already knew how to play this out to my favor, while still maintaining the priorities of my kingdom.
“Yunmeng is a trade port, you see. It connects countless piers. Qinghe, as a kingdom situated in the mountain ranges, is not strong in trade. It was a stronghold before when the war broke out generations ago, so what we do hold in pride are our soldiers. If you look at it that way, it seems like such an optimal match, but for me, I could have reasoned myself into marrying anyone else and would hold such a strong ground. In many ways, I was lucky.”
“So you like him?” Wei Wuxian asks, as if simply commenting on the weather.
“I thought I liked him because of the notion that he might need me. It’s a good thing to be, to be needed. But he has grown over the years; he is not the same as the man who sat beside me as we watched the stars shine in the night sky. He may not need me anymore, but maybe I do, and for now, that is enough.”
The clouds from far away darken as a warning. At this rate, it might take a while for a letter to reach Yunmeng.
“A-Sang,” Wei Wuxian calls out, and the prince looks back. “Would you like to try to put your feelings to words, this time?”
“What do you mean?”
“Shall we test the King if he remembers that night by the pier?”
“Wei Ying,” his husband says, sounding extremely relieved.
“Lan Zhan, I’m in Qinghe! Did you see the papers?” Wei Wuxian asks, sounding giddy over the voice of Lan Wangji. “I heard from Wen Qing that you’re writing for the King.”
“Wei Ying is not allowed to know that,” Lan Wangji sighs.
“How is he?”
“Particular,” Lan Wangji answers immediately. “He wants to make it seem like his letters are not written by a doll, but…”
“It still reads like yours,” Wei Wuxian swoons. “It’s hard not to jump for joy when I read them; don’t you think it’s romantic? They may be the ones writing for each other, but in some ways, it’s us writing for each other, too!”
His husband stays silent for a short while.
“Lan Zhan, I can’t tell if you’re smiling if you don’t tell me how good I am at woo-ing you!” Wei Wuxian laughs, echoing down the hall. He muffles himself with his palm and remembers the point of the call. “Ah! There you go again, getting me to blabber on and on!”
“I like listening to your voice,” Lan Wangji says. “ I miss you.”
“I do too,” Wei Wuxian whispers sadly. “But if you miss me all that much, can you indulge your poor husband a favor?”
That night in Yunmeng, do you remember? We sat by the pier and ate lotus seeds until the night bled into morning, and we have forgotten who we are.
Simply put, we were just Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng.
Do you remember?
This letter has gotten a few confused remarks from both kingdoms, unaware as to what it all means.
Nie Huaisang spends his day under the shade of the willow tree, thoroughly pleased.
Would you believe me if I said that it never left my mind?
For the first time in my life, someone has smiled at me and laughed with me, and it has lifted my spirits immensely that I vowed to make you mine, no matter what.
I decided to work on myself so I’d be worthy of asking your hand.
Did you think I’ll ever forget about that night?
“Wei Wuxian, what have you done,” the prince asks, flustered and pink as he could go.
“Ah, what a relief!” The doll claps. “He remembers!”
“Remembers what?” Nie Mingjue asks, gaze shifting between his brother and the doll. “Am I missing something here?”
“Your Majesty, it’s nothing,” Nie Huaisang assures, but his grip on the letter does not waver.
The King eyes him curiously before dismissing his whole court, leaving him, the prince and Wei Wuxian alone in the room.
“The Prince has feelings for the King of Yunmeng!” Wei Wuxian sing-songs, and Nie Huaisang gasps.
“Wei Wuxian! You—”
“Is this true?” Nie Mingjue asks.
“I— Da-ge, it’s not—”
“Is this true?”
After a long period of silence, the prince slowly nods.
“Is it why you’ve lobbied for Yunmeng when we have been searching for your match?”
“I meant it all in the best ways, da-ge,” He says, standing before the King. “I did not lie: Yunmeng Jiang is a match worthy of Qinghe, and they need us as much as we need them. Our kingdoms will blossom together; no other match would have made as much sense as this one.”
“As for Jiang Cheng?” Nie Mingjue raises.
“I…” Nie Huaisang mumbles. “There is something there. A loveless marriage might have been the norm for us royals, but will I be condemned for trying to find happiness in it, too?”
To his surprise, Nie Mingjue laughs. “Not at all. Yunmeng would be lucky to have you.”
Fear flashes in Nie Huaisang’s eyes. “Truly?”
“You ask this all the time,” The King chuckles. “It seems like I know your abilities more than you do.”
“I was never meant to lead, da-ge,” The prince says.
“No you weren’t.”
Nie Mingjue leaves his throne to step closer to his brother, who looks as if he’s brimming with worry. Wei Wuxian watches with a fond smile; from where he stands, they are hardly royalty — they’re just brothers, trying to find each other’s happiness in any way they can.
“You were meant to think for others, because heaven knows you do that best,” The King says, flicking his forehead softly. The prince pouts, feigning hurt. “I will lose you here, but I trust I’ll have your expertise if I need it best.”
“Of course,” Nie Huaisang nods, frowning deeply to stop his tears. “You won’t get rid of me that easy.”
I have changed quite a bit since that evening, I’m afraid.
I don’t know how much of myself you found appealing, but what if I lost most of it by now? It’s been five years since then; we have both grown in our own ways.
Will you still find my laughter contagious? Will you still like it if my hair’s too long? Will I still be as amusing as I was before?
In Yunmeng, the women sigh in understanding.
“Oh, to fall in love with a memory when the real thing is as enamoured! Do not lose hope, Prince!”
“Ah, our King, please comfort him! He only wishes to see you!”
“Prince Huaisang sounds so in love; our King is lucky!”
Allow me to assure you this time, as opposed to what happened before.
The comfort your presence that night brought has become such a fond memory that I hold it so close to my heart; I have heard things from Yunmeng, you see, and they speak of a smart prince who takes his people’s welfare first and foremost. His decisions are sound, his thinking is impeccable.
If you are trying to persuade me into thinking ill of you, you have chosen the wrong person to do so; you are it for me, and any attempt to make me think otherwise would be futile moving forward.
Have I grown for the better?
In Qinghe, the men rejoice.
“The prince is lucky to be betrothed to such a King!”
“Have I grown for the better? For the best!”
“Prince Huaisang must not think of himself so lowly when the King himself puts him on such a high regard! The King does not lie; he is cunning and kind!”
What will become of us, if we are too stubborn to stand down about each other’s adequacies?
It is unwise to be this perturbed about my faults. I am not a perfect man, nor do I wish to be seen as one.
I just simply wish to be loved by the one who I love the most, and if I have at least that, I will be content for the rest of my days.
You have grown indeed; shall I tell you in person if it's for the better or otherwise?
A week after Wei Wuxian’s arrival in Qinghe, the King announces that he is to visit Yunmeng to discuss trade routes that would benefit both kingdoms by reducing travel time by half.
“Shall I come with you, da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asks.
“No need,” Nie Mingjue waves off. “It will be a short trip; I need you here to govern in my lieu.”
The prince eyes him curiously, as if he’s missing out on something, but gives up halfway, knowing that the King would never tell him anything he doesn’t need to know.
By the time the King has left for the trip, a letter from Yunmeng arrives, addressed to the prince. This one is not to be published in the papers, the messenger says, and is a private letter for him alone.
I shall wait for you under the willow tree tomorrow for the answer, then.
“It is sly of him to do this,” Nie Huaisang says to the tree as he waits, sitting by the roots and twirling his hair in anxiousness. “Da-ge has grown sly over the years; this is so unlike him.”
“I’d imagine he learned that from you.”
Jiang Cheng stands before him with a letter and a lotus, the same ones as before. He looks up at him with wide eyes, until the King offers a hand to help him at his feet.
“I’ve come to bring you my letter.”
“All this effort for a silly prince?” Nie Huaisang says, taking his hand and hoisting himself up easy. He almost stumbles into Jiang Cheng’s chest, but he steadies himself quickly, turning red in the process. “Ah, forgive me.”
“Hardly silly,” Jiang Cheng says. He hands out the lotus flower. “Shall I hear your answer?”
“Let me see,” the prince says, taking the stem by the hand and pressing the petals on his lip.
Jiang Cheng has grown. Taller, definitely. His eyes seem tired, as if years of ruling have been so heavy for him, but his eyes glint the same determination as before. He wears the Zidian with pride now, unlike how he did before, fiddling on it cautiously as if he’s always in trouble.
“Did your own home run you down or are you just too eager to prove yourself?” Nie Huaisang asks. His gaze is meticulous, but it’s hard to keep it when the scent of the lotus flower is strong and calming.
“I didn’t do it all for you,” Jiang Cheng says. “I may have wanted to be enough for you, but I wanted to be enough for myself, too.”
“Ah,” Nie Huaisang muses, smiling behind the lotus. “That’s sly.”
“Your answer, my prince?”
Nie Huaisang spares him one more glance before nodding. “For the better.”
To his surprise, Jiang Cheng kneels before him. The wind is cool on their skin; the prince hardly knows why he sweats, all the same.
“You have never left my mind,” The King says, and Nie Huaisang sees no ounce of doubt in his eyes. “You may have tried to dismiss yourself as less than important and hardly worth noticing but you shine, even then.”
“Marry me, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng reaches for his hand and kisses his knuckles. Nie Huaisang tears up at the warmth. “Please do me the greatest honor of accepting my hand.”
“To be Yunmeng’s?” Nie Huaisang asks shakily.
“To be mine, forever,” Jiang Cheng supplies, and it is more than enough.
Nie Huaisang kneels in front of Jiang Cheng and cups his cheeks, not before nodding and whispering “yes, always, of course…!” The willow stands witness as they share the softest kiss before the stars, and Jiang Cheng smiles as they do.
The letter remains unopened, and the lotus lies on top of it, having already served its purpose.
Wei Wuxian goes down a stop before Yiling, where the bus routes from Yunmeng and Qinghe intersect. On the bus stop sits his husband, Lan Wangji, who looks worn and sleepless.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian shouts, leaving his bags on the ground to run and embrace him. Lan Wangji’s eyes sparkle at the sight of his only love, and lets him crash into his arms as he breathes his scent in. “Oh, Lan Wangji, my love, my darling, I have missed you so!”
“It’s been far too long,” Lan Wangji mumbles. “I have a week off since the King of Yunmeng and the Prince of Qinghe has announced their wedding day.”
“Same!” Wei Wuxian says. “How long before the next train to Yiling comes, you reckon?”
“Enough for ten thousand kisses,” Lan Wangji says seriously, eyes never leaving his husband’s.
“We should get started then, before the bus arrives,” Wei Wuxian says as he licks his lips, already straddling his husband’s waist.
To their annoyance, they barely make it to 500.