I don't know that I properly remember, just that it was this song, and it stuck in my mind, humming. Calming. That's why I was playing it for Wen Ning at Dafan Mountain. Which...
( 'Humming,' 'calming.' The ebb and tide of his work, his intent manifested. A yearning coiled, like whispers of sand curling around purpose to hatch a glimmered pearl. Tears of water. )
( he's puzzling over, it is yours to play, even as he reads the next missive that appears. it... ah, he feels this, needles sinking into his heart, warmth flooding his chest so he drowns from within while never once missing the sweet air drawn across his tongue. he basks for a moment, barely noting that now he does not linger in guilt, in weighted associations, can instead accept there were times he has needed help and was helped, by one who needn't go as far. who had his own mission at the time, who had been injured, was further injured still.
they're both fools, he thinks. foolish youths who have grown into somewhat wiser men, never lacking for opportunities to polish rough edges into surfaces that caught, did not avoid, the light. )
Two halves cleave to a whole. To be more together, even when apart.
( then a moment where the background processes catch up past the emotional flow, and he cants his head, unseen. the song his husband always refused to name, made into a game of itself laced heavily with petty temper, a point of confusion and curiosity to Wei Wuxian for close to what, two years? )
Are you giving me that song, Lan Zhan? Or are you saying it was always mine?
( Happy wife. Life... negotiating a similar state of artificial affairs. A fraught outcome. There is intimacy in the gifting of a song that creating it for its recipient makes natural.
To anoint it Wei Ying's now is — a complication. )
It was a child orphaned. Wei Ying left it bereft of name.
( husband, there's a whole bushel of rice to cook, more water held in further jars, and bedding needn't get boring yet--he might sleep early sometime! when not exhausted! by choice!
... it might be a long shot, but it could happen. )
For the joy of it! For each moment claimed and indulged.
Really, the sense in not doing so is simply accepting you're lazy and think it's not worth the effort to maintain interest because you're already wed. Hah! I don't accept it. Tradition would say, too, marriage is for children, ah? We've one fine son, are we tasked with making others? There will be wooing there, mark my words.
I can't imagine any reason to stop courting the one for whom I hold the deepest of particular affections, and here he is, calling me wife and leaving me in the inner courtyards to neglect already. How sad, very sad, to have a lazy husband, thin on affection, thick in face.
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I'll sleep, alone, and I will be safe. Speak to me over this when you're ready to rest for the night, let me play for you before you sleep?
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If you may, please.
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( laugh with him, only don't laugh at all. )
Search it when?
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When was the song played?
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3 of tripping down memory lane into a faceplant
While we're on it, how did you drag me out without me drowning? While you were injured!
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It is yours to play.
hanguang-jun being smooth
TOO SMOOTH, MISSION ABORT (1/2)
they're both fools, he thinks. foolish youths who have grown into somewhat wiser men, never lacking for opportunities to polish rough edges into surfaces that caught, did not avoid, the light. )
Two halves cleave to a whole. To be more together, even when apart.
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Are you giving me that song, Lan Zhan? Or are you saying it was always mine?
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To anoint it Wei Ying's now is — a complication. )
It was a child orphaned. Wei Ying left it bereft of name.
Cruel.
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( a forgotten name is not the lack of it, but at this rate, with how he names things, it's going to be The Calming Song, so think twice Lan Wangji. )
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( Sir, the rice has been cooked. The milk spilled. You are already wedded, nominally bedded. )
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( husband, there's a whole bushel of rice to cook, more water held in further jars, and bedding needn't get boring yet--he might sleep early sometime! when not exhausted! by choice!
... it might be a long shot, but it could happen. )
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Why woo a wife?
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Really, the sense in not doing so is simply accepting you're lazy and think it's not worth the effort to maintain interest because you're already wed. Hah! I don't accept it. Tradition would say, too, marriage is for children, ah? We've one fine son, are we tasked with making others? There will be wooing there, mark my words.
I can't imagine any reason to stop courting the one for whom I hold the deepest of particular affections, and here he is, calling me wife and leaving me in the inner courtyards to neglect already. How sad, very sad, to have a lazy husband, thin on affection, thick in face.
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Wei Wuxian, of all men, feels neglected.
Overlooked. Cast aside. Bereft of children.
Is that so?
( Care... ful. )
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Ponder this, though: do I care what is common, sensible tradition for others?
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