[One can always keep on Wei Ying to keep himself entertained, no matter what.
The harmonizing hums really are not that distracting, but for the first hour or so, the melody is fragmented, bits put together slowly, repeated again and again. Only after that does it finally compose an actual melodic phrase.
Then Wangji repeats that, for quite a while longer, until he is certain he has it memorized, and then he starts adding all of the little extras, the volume indications, the vibrato in certain parts... He is rather exacting in knowing how much he needs to learn a new piece, so four hours was pretty much what was needed here. By then end of that stretch of time, the performance is not yet up to his standards, but most people would call it flawless.
( Wei Wuxian keeps it up, not an active thought so much as one that comes back to the forefront as he writes notes, scribbles bits of side-thoughts, and sketches out designs that, at some point, turn into him flipping to another page and sketching Lan Zhan instead. It's a nice mental break when the problem he'd been wrestling with had no good progress, and Lan Zhan focussed on his studies and piecing together perfection that he still fails to find to his satisfaction by the end?
Ah, but that's who he is, and he understands. He asks no less from himself, and with no less work going in, for all his flair for making it seem effortless, and it is at times. His brain cooperates in ways that make him move faster, skip steps, find what's redundant, dismiss this or that or the other and then—
Then it's the end of the session, near perfect, but not quite there. Wei Wuxian has returned to piecing through his own work, leaving the carefully torn out page of his notebook set to the side, where Lan Zhan will find himself from side profile, imagined in a softer scene, short hair paired with robes out of a myriad of dynasties mired in the past, a plum blossom branch laden with sketched out blossoms hanging in the backdrop, seen through the implication of a round window looking into a garden.
Flight of fancy, yes, as is the flower tucked behind Lan Zhan's ear. )
Time up?
( He asks, looking up with a lopsided smile and quirked brow. )
[He's finishing packing up the qin when his eyes fall on the sheet of paper with his drawing, and he raised a slightly confused eyebrows at Wei Ying.
It's a beautiful picture, but he's always known Wei Ying was good at drawing. Mostly, he's puzzled at being the subject of the drawing, and also the composition of it - the clothes, the flower? All very well executed but he's still puzzled, and it shows on his face.
The last time someone drew him, it was probably his brother. Xichen is a skilled artist as well, and he often used his brother as a model before, but that hasn't happened in a while, because their schedule rarely match these days. And Wangji isn't one to take selfies a lot, so it's not often he sees his own face reflected back to him.
And he's also impressed he didn't notice it happening.]
( He grins, devil may care but also devil may be written right into the details. Wei Wuxian lifts his notebook, flips it open to pages of calculations and notes and diagrams, then flips it shut. )
I did, and so it was done. All my important things, and ah! Lan Zhan!
( He smiles, sauntering close, glancing to the artwork of his own making. )
[Ah, of course. Wei Ying's brain and its ability to do a million things at once. Wangji tends to be a bit more linear and finish a thing before starting a new one, but Wei Ying isn't like that.
The question makes Wangji blink, and then shake his head. he's not allergic to anything that he knows of, but now he's curious.]
There's a botanical garden and this whole public aviary—I was thinking we could go?
( Now it's the quirked brow of interest, to check and see if it sounds appealing to Lan Zhan on any level. There's been renovations to the aviary that had finished in the last few months, and the botanical garden had statuary and stone gardens involved, too, but more importantly: in all of it, one was meant to move and view.
Also, eat. The inevitability of food around is also true, and good restaurants with vegetarian options? Priceless. )
[Well, normally a public outing would not be Wangji's first choice, but a botanical garden makes up for that. It might be a bit crowded, but there will be quieter areas for sure.
So he nods as he finishes gathering his things.]
I'll just drop this off at my place first. Do we need the car?
Given your love of public transit, and traffic heading through some of the city, the car might be easiest.
( This all said with a show of consideration, a finger tapping on his chin, his head cocked to the side. Wei Wuxian thrives on public transit, not for its effectiveness (though it is, outside of certain busses that suffer alongside cars in traffic crawls during certain periods each day), but for the people watching aspect that grabs his attention.
Trust him on his planning, Lan Zhan! Truly, he's not dragging you to a den of, er, people. Crowds. No, that's nineteenth date material, and involves a festival.
Either way, with Lan Zhan ready to head out, Wei Wuxian's almost jittery with energy and both following then simply walking ahead by merit of taking larger, faster strides, everything about him effortlessly in motion now that they're going again. )
[He does indeed try to avoid public transportation when it's too crowded, but he also walks a lot; Mostly, he uses the car when he needs to transport something big or the distance is prohibitive.
But yes, once again Wei Ying is in movement. Not that he ever completely stopped. He was quiet enough sitting down, but there's always a sort of energy coursing through him when he's doing things, even sitting down at a table.
It's short work to go put the instrument back where it belongs, and take a bag with a few essentials, including a camera, so that they can head out.]
( A cluck of his tongue and a laugh; of course, he has, and he sends along the location ping to Lan Zhan, givin ghim a provocative grin and eyebrow waggle. See? See? Doesn't he GPS! He's so good at the GPS!
He also is about to walk into something, Lan Zhan, save him from himself. )
[Yes, yes, Wei Ying you are a spry young man in the spring of youth, and he is going to catch your wrist and pull you towards him and if you crash into his very solid chest, well, that's not his fault.]
( Thumps right into that chest, with his chest, and his uncaught arm flails into a hold around Lan Zhan's waist in a manner very not conducive to anything romantic or even attractive, beyond how close they are, and the laugh that pulls his lips into a grin and sends his eyes sparkling as he leans fully into his Lan Zhan, fluttering his lashes. )
Aren't you doing that for me?
( And it's a laugh, over the top flirtation that it is, on an ending note of: )
You sure you don't want me to crash into you?
( dave matthews band 'crash into me' plays muffled in the background, with following line of i come into you, dun dun dun )
[Please. He's had enough of you getting hurt, no matter if it's small things like this, or your brother unfailry lashing out at you or just the world being unfair to you in general.
( he never aims to, really, until something comes up he's throwing himself in to help prevent, one way or another.
as it is, he raises an eyebrow, already buckled up. )
Was this a sticking point for you before, Lan Zhan?
( seatbelts are such basic safety devices and also definitely something the jiangs were a stickler about, but also, he knows the statistics, is amused Lan Zhan seems to think he wouldn't. safety belts do prevent getting thrown from cars, and enough accidents are worse if a human body tries only to stop itself.
but more than that, it just tells him Lan Zhan's worried, and he's not sure what to do with that. )
Usually when you've been in my car, you were too drunk to buckle yourself up.
[Because he was picking you up because you were too drunk to go home under your own power, if you remember correctly.
He'll enter the address into the car's GPS and le the engine purr to life like a sleek, big cat.
The question is.. maybe not surprising given that they're going to a botanical garden, but it really is part of those small things they are still learning about one another... they're really doing this whole dating thing entirely out of order, it seems.]
( sounding mildly surprised, though not so much that contextually, yes, while that degree of drunk gathering whatever social capital he'd needed, he was barely aware of how to functionally do anything other than escape and try to sleep, knowing him.
For the flowers, however, a nod and a smile. Something for Wei Wuxian to remember. )
These are a mix of native flowers and imported roses... wonder if we'll see any there!
Hahaha, Lan Zhan, if I was that drunk, then I was not entertaining.
( It's as close to calling out being a burden as he comes without being worn down enough or a different kind of drunk, but he waves that off, picking their way forward when it comes time to veering into a courtyard that leads out to the rest of the park, and the flower gardens within. )
Lotuses, I guess.
( For many reasons, he supposes, and how they'd tied to his better memories with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, and for nothing else to hold onto, but the way that they all rose out of the mud together. )
Never thought hard on it, but they're a very useful flower! Pretty too.
I'm not with you because you're entertaining, Wei Ying.
[One might, in fact, argue that it is in spite of that aspect that he is attracted to Wei Ying, precisely because he sees past some of that bluster and he still likes what's under there. And it took him time to understand why Wei Ying seemed to have this constant need to be seen, while in the same breath hiding quite a lot behind that bright smile and easygoing attitude of his.
The answer for his favorite flower is.. sort of unsurprising. It's certainly very Wei Ying.]
( it's consistent enough as a standard in his life that it's not something he inherently trusts, that he can be anything less than vibrant, entertaining, anything that translates to not a burden -- and it doesn't disappear, is the time where he's clung close and wondered when he'd find lan zhan's bottom line, where patience will give way to anything else. there is none, none he's found or sees, but the tolerance is what it has felt like; and he sinks into it slowly, gregarious and outgoing as he is, because his heart feels enough, he's picked himself up again often enough, he expects things to hurt.
stranger, to have them not. stranger to not find waiting the caveat that means he's failed again, tripped up, proven he's too good or not good enough and both are damning, to some extent.
he swallows, and links his arm through lan zhan's, stepping them merrily along the path, the narrow entrance to the gardens leading them through tall framed buildings, hedges and annuals planted alongside the path, and then that moment: they're through.
trellis overhead of sweet peas or something that looks close enough to them, and beyond, the rows of roses, bright and beautiful and thorned. )
What can I say, lotuses are an all time favourite. Look, Lan Zhan! How many rows do they have of roses! They come in orange?
[It's easy enough to see Wei Ying not knowing what to do with that declaration, and covering it with a pirouette, and then distracting with the flowers they came to see. Maybe he'll keep thinking about it, behind his enjoyment of the parl. Or maybe he'll put it out of his mind entirely, and if Wangji brings it back up he'll have forgotten.
It's one thing that's both sad and puzzling, sometimes, how Wei Ying forgets certain things. because they are too embarrassing, too raw, too painful... There is a reason for it, of course, but still...
Wangji tends to not forget anything, but he also isn't here to drag the mood down.]
There's roses in almost every color. Although I think the blue and black ones are dyed, not cultivated like this.
( for the most part, he forgets what he doesn't want to remember. sides it back to the recesses of his mind, where it lives if it's important enough, but he doesn't linger. why?
he'd rather breathe in the light than think too hard on what lies in the shadows. )
Ooh, do you hear that? I think there's a fountain in here! Or a creek, something trickling.
( it's easy, the lines of his body as he moves forward, the laughter in his eyes. he knows some middling amount about plants, yes, and their cultivation, in the distracted way he took in much more information than he needed and promptly forgot half of it, suiting his interests; wei wuxian has always striven to understand before turning around and flaunting all he knew.
there are ironies in his delving into engineering, paired with the artist that he is as well, but if it weren't for the cleaving of those two sides, he would not be the man he is. if he isn't sure, at times, what that man consists of, in the eyes of others. not beyond a certain potential profitability, and the reason he had called lan zhan those nights for a ride away from meetings with people who believed in unspoken rules and dark reaches that had nothing to do with profitability and everything to do with presumptive gains.
wei wuxian did not bend for them, and never would. his dance with the edge of those politics was always to whirlwind himself out of them fast enough they couldn't quite catch on, and he whirlwinds now, catching at lan zhan's hands and encouraging him faster, through the ordered rows of roses, until they stride or dash or break through the final row, and they find themselves at the centre. indeed, something akin to a fountain, a rectangular reflecting pool with the hint of fat, lazy koi swimming through its waters. lotus pads spread over the pond's surface, breaking up the perfect replica of the skies and flowers as seen from this indirect angle, reflected back up at them. at the far end of the pool, a waterfall features built of stones and trickling down, small pool to small pool, before it joined the main rectangle, so much larger than it was. the whole framed in wood in a way that echoed wooden raised beds for flowers and food and whatever else was held in raised beds, when the soil beneath wouldn't accept a bounty, would not allow for growth.
no perfect park, or garden, but one tended to with the ambition of love and care, and yes, the benches. there are two, stone and wood, simple affairs. toward one of them, overhung by roses of a smaller face, trained into vines that loop overhead in a riot of tangles and blossoms and only the scent of greenery, heady and alive. no perfume, not from these blossoms. )
Sit, sit! Look, this is nice, isn't it? Not a formal effort when it started, that's what I was told, but it's what the people here have poured themselves into, having something to cultivate. Even if its roses, and a pond of fat, greedy fish, they don't have to be anything more than beautiful, to eyes that want to seem them as beautiful. Simple, right?
( or not so simple at all, but simple in enjoyment, if they allow it to be. )
[It's nice to see Wei Ying be relaxed and laugh, and he follows readily when his hands are caught and pulled, until they reach the pool and the benches.]
Hm.
[A soft sound of agreement because yes, one can feel the love and care and genuine pleasure people have taken arranging this garden.]
How did you find out about it?
[Probably just by being his bright, sunny self, really. Wei Ying is so easily gregarious, striking easy conversations with anyone in ways that seem so alien to Wangji... he'll never have that easy manner with strangers himself.]
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The harmonizing hums really are not that distracting, but for the first hour or so, the melody is fragmented, bits put together slowly, repeated again and again. Only after that does it finally compose an actual melodic phrase.
Then Wangji repeats that, for quite a while longer, until he is certain he has it memorized, and then he starts adding all of the little extras, the volume indications, the vibrato in certain parts... He is rather exacting in knowing how much he needs to learn a new piece, so four hours was pretty much what was needed here. By then end of that stretch of time, the performance is not yet up to his standards, but most people would call it flawless.
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Ah, but that's who he is, and he understands. He asks no less from himself, and with no less work going in, for all his flair for making it seem effortless, and it is at times. His brain cooperates in ways that make him move faster, skip steps, find what's redundant, dismiss this or that or the other and then—
Then it's the end of the session, near perfect, but not quite there. Wei Wuxian has returned to piecing through his own work, leaving the carefully torn out page of his notebook set to the side, where Lan Zhan will find himself from side profile, imagined in a softer scene, short hair paired with robes out of a myriad of dynasties mired in the past, a plum blossom branch laden with sketched out blossoms hanging in the backdrop, seen through the implication of a round window looking into a garden.
Flight of fancy, yes, as is the flower tucked behind Lan Zhan's ear. )
Time up?
( He asks, looking up with a lopsided smile and quirked brow. )
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[He's finishing packing up the qin when his eyes fall on the sheet of paper with his drawing, and he raised a slightly confused eyebrows at Wei Ying.
It's a beautiful picture, but he's always known Wei Ying was good at drawing. Mostly, he's puzzled at being the subject of the drawing, and also the composition of it - the clothes, the flower? All very well executed but he's still puzzled, and it shows on his face.
The last time someone drew him, it was probably his brother. Xichen is a skilled artist as well, and he often used his brother as a model before, but that hasn't happened in a while, because their schedule rarely match these days. And Wangji isn't one to take selfies a lot, so it's not often he sees his own face reflected back to him.
And he's also impressed he didn't notice it happening.]
Didn't you say you had work to do?
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I did, and so it was done. All my important things, and ah! Lan Zhan!
( He smiles, sauntering close, glancing to the artwork of his own making. )
Any plant allergies I should know about?
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The question makes Wangji blink, and then shake his head. he's not allergic to anything that he knows of, but now he's curious.]
Why do you ask?
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( Now it's the quirked brow of interest, to check and see if it sounds appealing to Lan Zhan on any level. There's been renovations to the aviary that had finished in the last few months, and the botanical garden had statuary and stone gardens involved, too, but more importantly: in all of it, one was meant to move and view.
Also, eat. The inevitability of food around is also true, and good restaurants with vegetarian options? Priceless. )
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So he nods as he finishes gathering his things.]
I'll just drop this off at my place first. Do we need the car?
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( This all said with a show of consideration, a finger tapping on his chin, his head cocked to the side. Wei Wuxian thrives on public transit, not for its effectiveness (though it is, outside of certain busses that suffer alongside cars in traffic crawls during certain periods each day), but for the people watching aspect that grabs his attention.
Trust him on his planning, Lan Zhan! Truly, he's not dragging you to a den of, er, people. Crowds. No, that's nineteenth date material, and involves a festival.
Either way, with Lan Zhan ready to head out, Wei Wuxian's almost jittery with energy and both following then simply walking ahead by merit of taking larger, faster strides, everything about him effortlessly in motion now that they're going again. )
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But yes, once again Wei Ying is in movement. Not that he ever completely stopped. He was quiet enough sitting down, but there's always a sort of energy coursing through him when he's doing things, even sitting down at a table.
It's short work to go put the instrument back where it belongs, and take a bag with a few essentials, including a camera, so that they can head out.]
Do you have the address for the GPS?
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( A cluck of his tongue and a laugh; of course, he has, and he sends along the location ping to Lan Zhan, givin ghim a provocative grin and eyebrow waggle. See? See? Doesn't he GPS! He's so good at the GPS!
He also is about to walk into something, Lan Zhan, save him from himself. )
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... Watch where you're going.
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Aren't you doing that for me?
( And it's a laugh, over the top flirtation that it is, on an ending note of: )
You sure you don't want me to crash into you?
( dave matthews band 'crash into me' plays muffled in the background, with following line of i come into you, dun dun dun )
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[Please. He's had enough of you getting hurt, no matter if it's small things like this, or your brother unfailry lashing out at you or just the world being unfair to you in general.
And so once they get to the car...]
Seatbelt.
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( he never aims to, really, until something comes up he's throwing himself in to help prevent, one way or another.
as it is, he raises an eyebrow, already buckled up. )
Was this a sticking point for you before, Lan Zhan?
( seatbelts are such basic safety devices and also definitely something the jiangs were a stickler about, but also, he knows the statistics, is amused Lan Zhan seems to think he wouldn't. safety belts do prevent getting thrown from cars, and enough accidents are worse if a human body tries only to stop itself.
but more than that, it just tells him Lan Zhan's worried, and he's not sure what to do with that. )
Hey, Lan Zhan, do you have favourite flowers?
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[Because he was picking you up because you were too drunk to go home under your own power, if you remember correctly.
He'll enter the address into the car's GPS and le the engine purr to life like a sleek, big cat.
The question is.. maybe not surprising given that they're going to a botanical garden, but it really is part of those small things they are still learning about one another... they're really doing this whole dating thing entirely out of order, it seems.]
Gentians.
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( sounding mildly surprised, though not so much that contextually, yes, while that degree of drunk gathering whatever social capital he'd needed, he was barely aware of how to functionally do anything other than escape and try to sleep, knowing him.
For the flowers, however, a nod and a smile. Something for Wei Wuxian to remember. )
These are a mix of native flowers and imported roses... wonder if we'll see any there!
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Wangji does remember every single one of them, though.]
... I don't know what you mean by 'worst'.
[It was just you, Wei Ying. And he's always taken in all the aspects of you.]
You never told me about your favorite flowers either.
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( It's as close to calling out being a burden as he comes without being worn down enough or a different kind of drunk, but he waves that off, picking their way forward when it comes time to veering into a courtyard that leads out to the rest of the park, and the flower gardens within. )
Lotuses, I guess.
( For many reasons, he supposes, and how they'd tied to his better memories with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, and for nothing else to hold onto, but the way that they all rose out of the mud together. )
Never thought hard on it, but they're a very useful flower! Pretty too.
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[One might, in fact, argue that it is in spite of that aspect that he is attracted to Wei Ying, precisely because he sees past some of that bluster and he still likes what's under there. And it took him time to understand why Wei Ying seemed to have this constant need to be seen, while in the same breath hiding quite a lot behind that bright smile and easygoing attitude of his.
The answer for his favorite flower is.. sort of unsurprising. It's certainly very Wei Ying.]
You like lotus root soup and lotus seeds, too.
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( it's consistent enough as a standard in his life that it's not something he inherently trusts, that he can be anything less than vibrant, entertaining, anything that translates to not a burden -- and it doesn't disappear, is the time where he's clung close and wondered when he'd find lan zhan's bottom line, where patience will give way to anything else. there is none, none he's found or sees, but the tolerance is what it has felt like; and he sinks into it slowly, gregarious and outgoing as he is, because his heart feels enough, he's picked himself up again often enough, he expects things to hurt.
stranger, to have them not. stranger to not find waiting the caveat that means he's failed again, tripped up, proven he's too good or not good enough and both are damning, to some extent.
he swallows, and links his arm through lan zhan's, stepping them merrily along the path, the narrow entrance to the gardens leading them through tall framed buildings, hedges and annuals planted alongside the path, and then that moment: they're through.
trellis overhead of sweet peas or something that looks close enough to them, and beyond, the rows of roses, bright and beautiful and thorned. )
What can I say, lotuses are an all time favourite. Look, Lan Zhan! How many rows do they have of roses! They come in orange?
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It's one thing that's both sad and puzzling, sometimes, how Wei Ying forgets certain things. because they are too embarrassing, too raw, too painful... There is a reason for it, of course, but still...
Wangji tends to not forget anything, but he also isn't here to drag the mood down.]
There's roses in almost every color. Although I think the blue and black ones are dyed, not cultivated like this.
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( for the most part, he forgets what he doesn't want to remember. sides it back to the recesses of his mind, where it lives if it's important enough, but he doesn't linger. why?
he'd rather breathe in the light than think too hard on what lies in the shadows. )
Ooh, do you hear that? I think there's a fountain in here! Or a creek, something trickling.
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[He knows a little bit about botany, since he has plants in his apartment, but he's never cultivated roses himself, or tried to change their colors.]
Hydrangea can turn naturally blue depending on the soil they are in, but I don't remember why exactly. Something to do with aluminum.
[But of course, trust Wei Ying to find water anywhere.]
Hm. They probably have a stream of some sort for irrigation.
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( it's easy, the lines of his body as he moves forward, the laughter in his eyes. he knows some middling amount about plants, yes, and their cultivation, in the distracted way he took in much more information than he needed and promptly forgot half of it, suiting his interests; wei wuxian has always striven to understand before turning around and flaunting all he knew.
there are ironies in his delving into engineering, paired with the artist that he is as well, but if it weren't for the cleaving of those two sides, he would not be the man he is. if he isn't sure, at times, what that man consists of, in the eyes of others. not beyond a certain potential profitability, and the reason he had called lan zhan those nights for a ride away from meetings with people who believed in unspoken rules and dark reaches that had nothing to do with profitability and everything to do with presumptive gains.
wei wuxian did not bend for them, and never would. his dance with the edge of those politics was always to whirlwind himself out of them fast enough they couldn't quite catch on, and he whirlwinds now, catching at lan zhan's hands and encouraging him faster, through the ordered rows of roses, until they stride or dash or break through the final row, and they find themselves at the centre. indeed, something akin to a fountain, a rectangular reflecting pool with the hint of fat, lazy koi swimming through its waters. lotus pads spread over the pond's surface, breaking up the perfect replica of the skies and flowers as seen from this indirect angle, reflected back up at them. at the far end of the pool, a waterfall features built of stones and trickling down, small pool to small pool, before it joined the main rectangle, so much larger than it was. the whole framed in wood in a way that echoed wooden raised beds for flowers and food and whatever else was held in raised beds, when the soil beneath wouldn't accept a bounty, would not allow for growth.
no perfect park, or garden, but one tended to with the ambition of love and care, and yes, the benches. there are two, stone and wood, simple affairs. toward one of them, overhung by roses of a smaller face, trained into vines that loop overhead in a riot of tangles and blossoms and only the scent of greenery, heady and alive. no perfume, not from these blossoms. )
Sit, sit! Look, this is nice, isn't it? Not a formal effort when it started, that's what I was told, but it's what the people here have poured themselves into, having something to cultivate. Even if its roses, and a pond of fat, greedy fish, they don't have to be anything more than beautiful, to eyes that want to seem them as beautiful. Simple, right?
( or not so simple at all, but simple in enjoyment, if they allow it to be. )
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Hm.
[A soft sound of agreement because yes, one can feel the love and care and genuine pleasure people have taken arranging this garden.]
How did you find out about it?
[Probably just by being his bright, sunny self, really. Wei Ying is so easily gregarious, striking easy conversations with anyone in ways that seem so alien to Wangji... he'll never have that easy manner with strangers himself.]
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