Elegant and Seductive

Wei Wuxian was a master at finding his own amusement, especially skilled at making joy from hardship. With nothing else to play with, he decided he might as well play with Lan Wangji. “Wangji-xiong,” he said.

Lan Wangji remained utterly still.

“Wangji,” Wei Wuxian tried.

He gave no sign of hearing.

Wei Wuxian: “Lan Wangji.”

Wei Wuxian: “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji finally stopped writing, lifting his gaze coldly to look at him. Wei Wuxian dodged back, raising his hands in defense: “Don't look at me like that. You wouldn't answer to Wangji, so I used your name. If you're unhappy, you can use my name in return.”

Lan Wangji said, “Put your leg down.”

Wei Wuxian's posture was utterly improper — slanted body, legs propped up. Seeing that he'd finally provoked Lan Wangji to speak, a secret delight surged through him, like watching the clouds part to reveal the moon. He did as told and put his leg down, but his upper body unconsciously drew closer again, his arm pressing on the desk, still an indecorous pose. Solemnly, he said, “Lan Zhan, let me ask you something. Do you — really dislike me?”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyes, his lashes casting faint shadows on his jade-pale cheeks. Wei Wuxian quickly said, “Don't be like that. Just two lines and then you ignore me again. I want to admit my mistake to you, to apologize. Look at me.”

After a pause, he continued, “Won't look at me? Fine, then I'll just talk. That night, I was wrong. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have climbed the wall, shouldn't have drunk wine, shouldn't have fought with you. But I swear! I wasn't deliberately provoking you, I really hadn't read your clan's rules. The Jiang clan's rules are all spoken — they were never written down. Otherwise I definitely wouldn't have — wouldn't have finished that jar of Emperor's Smile right in front of you; I'd have tucked it into my robes and snuck it back to my room to drink in secret, drunk it every day, shared it with everyone, drunk my fill.”

Wei Wuxian went on, “And let's talk reason: who struck first? You. If you hadn't started it, we could've talked this out properly, could've cleared things up. But when someone hits me, I have no choice but to hit back. You can't blame this all on me. Lan Zhan, are you listening? Look at me. Lan-gongzi?” He snapped his fingers. “Lan-er-gege, do me a favor, look at me.”

Lan Wangji didn't even raise his eyes. “Copy it an extra time.”

Wei Wuxian's body immediately slumped. “Don't be like that. I said I was sorry.”

Lan Wangji mercilessly exposed him: “You have absolutely no heart of repentance.”

Wei Wuxian said, utterly without dignity, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I'll say it as many times as you want. Even on my knees, that's fine too.”

Lan Wangji set down his brush. Wei Wuxian thought he'd finally pushed him past endurance and was about to be hit, and was just about to flash a cheeky grin when he suddenly found his upper and lower lips stuck together, as if glued — the smile wouldn't come.

His expression shifted dramatically as he struggled: “Mm? Mmmmmm!”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, exhaled softly, then opened them again — his demeanor once more perfectly composed. He picked up his brush again as if nothing had happened. Wei Wuxian had long heard of the detestable nature of the Lan clan's Silencing Spell, yet in his heart he never believed in such wicked tricks. But after fussing for a good while, even scratching his lips red at the corners, no matter what he tried, he couldn't open his mouth. So he copied out a sheet of paper, his brush flying, and threw it over. Lan Wangji glanced at it: “Boring.” He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it aside.

Wei Wuxian, enraged, rolled over on the mat, then scrambled up and wrote another. He slapped it down in front of Lan Wangji, only to have it crumpled and tossed away again.

This Silencing Spell wasn't lifted until he finished copying. The next day when he arrived at the Library Pavilion, the paper balls that had been thrown all over the floor the day before had all been cleared away.

Wei Wuxian always healed and forgot the pain — the very next day after suffering the Silencing Spell, within two moments of sitting down his lips were itching again. Recklessly, he'd barely spoken two lines when he was silenced once more. Unable to speak, he scribbled nonsense on paper and shoved it toward Lan Wangji, only for it to be crumpled into a ball and thrown on the floor. The third day was the same.

After being silenced again and again like this, when it came to the last day of his sentenced contemplation, Wei Wuxian, in Lan Wangji's eyes, seemed somewhat different that day.

Since coming to Gusu, his sword had been tossed about east and west every day — never had he carried it properly on his back. Yet that day he had brought it, slapping it down beside the desk with a sharp sound. Even more, he broke entirely from his persistent, indomitable habit of harassing Lan Wangji; he sat down without a word and started writing, obedient to an almost eerie degree.

Lan Wangji had no reason to cast the Silencing Spell on him, and so kept a closer eye on him instead, as if unconvinced that he'd suddenly turned docile. Sure enough, before long, Wei Wuxian reverted to his old ways. He sent a piece of paper over, indicating he should look.

Lan Wangji had expected more nonsensical, worthless scribbles, but when his gaze swept over it despite himself, it turned out to be a portrait. Sitting upright, leaning by the window quietly reading — the features and expression vividly captured, it was none other than himself.

Wei Wuxian, seeing his eyes hadn't immediately moved away, hooked the corner of his mouth, raised his brows at him, and winked. Without words, the meaning was obvious: Does it look like me? Good, isn't it?

Lan Wangji said slowly, “With so much free time, instead of copying books, you go about doodling. I doubt you'll ever have your ban lifted.”

Wei Wuxian blew on the still-wet ink and said carelessly, “I've already finished copying, and tomorrow I won't be coming!”

Lan Wangji's slender fingers on the yellowed pages of the book seemed to pause for a moment before he turned the next page — nor did he silence him this time. Wei Wuxian, seeing he couldn't provoke a reaction, tossed the drawing idly down and said, “It's yours.”

The drawing landed on the mat, but Lan Wangji made no move to take it. Over these days, all the papers Wei Wuxian had written to scold him, flatter him, admit his mistakes, beg for mercy, or casually doodle had met with exactly the same treatment — he was used to it now and didn't mind. Suddenly he said, “I forgot — I need to add something to this.”

With that, he picked up the paper and brush, and with a few swift strokes added two touches. Then, looking from the drawing to the actual person, he collapsed laughing onto the floor. Lan Wangji set down his book and glanced over — Wei Wuxian had added a flower beside the ear of his own painted image.

The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch. Wei Wuxian scrambled up, seizing the chance: “‘Boring,’ right? I knew you'd say ‘boring.’ Can't you switch words? Or add a couple more?”

Lan Wangji said coolly, “Boring to the utmost.”

Wei Wuxian clapped: “You really did add two more words. Thanks!”

Lan Wangji withdrew his gaze, picked up the book he'd just set aside, and opened it again. But after a single glance, he flung it away as if scorched by a tongue of flame.

Originally, what he'd been reading was a Buddhist scripture, but with that one flip, what came into view were nothing but stark naked, entangled human figures — unbearable to look upon. The volume he'd been reading had been swapped for a spring-palace picture book disguised with a Buddhist scripture cover.

No need for thought to know whose doing this was — surely it was a certain someone who'd pulled this off while distracting him with the portrait. And Wei Wuxian had no intention of concealing it whatsoever, still slapping the desk over there, howling with laughter: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The book was thrown to the floor; Lan Wangji, as if evading serpents and scorpions, retreated in an instant to the corner of the Library Pavilion, enraged to the point of roaring: “Wei Ying —!”

Wei Wuxian had laughed so hard he nearly rolled under the desk, managing with difficulty to raise his hand: “Present! I'm here!”

Lan Wangji suddenly drew Bichen. From the time they met, Wei Wuxian had never seen him lose composure like this. He hurriedly grabbed his own blade, drawing the sword's edge three parts out of its sheath, and warned: “Composure! Second Young Master Lan! Mind your composure! I brought my sword today too — if we fight, do you still want your Library Pavilion or not!” He had long anticipated that Lan Wangji would explode in shame and rage, and had deliberately carried his sword for self-defense, to avoid being accidentally skewered to death in Lan Wangji's fury. Lan Wangji aimed his blade at him, those pale eyes seeming almost to spew fire: “What sort of person are you!”

Wei Wuxian said, “What sort of person could I be? A man!”

Lan Wangji rebuked him fiercely: “Shameless!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Should I be ashamed about this too? Don't tell me you've never looked at this kind of thing. I don't believe you.”

Lan Wangji's misfortune lay in his inability to curse. After holding back for a long while, he raised his sword at him, his face a mask of frost: “Go outside. We settle this with a fight.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head repeatedly, feigning obedience: “No fighting, no fighting. Don't you know, Lan-gongzi? Private duels are forbidden in Cloud Recesses.” He moved to pick up the tossed book, but Lan Wangji sprang forward and snatched it first. Wei Wuxian, a thought turning in his mind, guessed he planned to take this evidence to report him, so he deliberately said: “What are you grabbing for? I thought you weren't going to look. Want to look again now? You really don't need to grab it — I borrowed it specially to show you. After looking at my spring pictures, you're a friend of mine now; we can continue our exchange, there's more...”

Lan Wangji's entire face went white. He enunciated each word: “I — will — not — look.”

Wei Wuxian continued twisting truth into falsehood: “If you won't look, then why snatch it? Hoarding? That won't do — I borrowed this from someone else too, you know, and once you've looked at it you have to return it... Hey hey hey, don't come closer, you're too near, it makes me nervous; let's talk nicely. You're not thinking of handing it over, are you? To whom? To your old... to your uncle? Second Young Master Lan, can this sort of thing be shown to the clan elders? He'd be sure to suspect you'd already looked at it yourself — with your thin skin, wouldn't you just die of shame...”

Lan Wangji poured Spiritual Power into his right hand, and the book split into a thousand fragments of fine dust, fluttering down from the air. Wei Wuxian, seeing he'd successfully provoked him into destroying the evidence, felt reassured and feigned regret: “What a waste of heaven's gift!” He then plucked a fragment of paper that had landed in his hair and held it up for the pale-faced, furious Lan Wangji to see: “Lan Zhan, you're perfect in every way except your habit of throwing things around. Tell me, over these days how many paper balls have you thrown on the floor? Today, even throwing paper balls wasn't satisfying enough — you had to play at tearing up paper. You tore it, so you clean it. I'm not touching it.” Naturally, he never had.

Lan Wangji endured and endured, finally pushed past all endurance, and roared: “Get out!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Well now, Lan Zhan, they all say you're a noble gentleman, a lustrous pearl of the age, the very model of propriety and courtesy — but it seems that's all there is to it. Don't you know that Cloud Recesses forbids clamor? And you actually told me to ‘get out.’ Is that the first time you've used such a word on someone...” Lan Wangji thrust his sword at him. Wei Wuxian hastily jumped onto the windowsill: “Out I go, then. I'm the best at getting out. No need to see me off!”

He leaped down from the Library Pavilion and, like a madman, burst into loud laughter, charging recklessly through and rushing into the woods, where a group of people were already waiting for him. Nie Huaisang said, “So, did he look? What was his expression?”

Wei Wuxian said, “What expression? Hey! He just yelled so loudly — didn't you hear it?”

Nie Huaisang's face was full of admiration: “We heard! He told you to get out! Brother Wei, that's the first time I've ever heard Lan Wangji tell someone to ‘get out’! How did you do it?”

Wei Wuxian beamed with spring breezes and smug satisfaction: “Congratulations, I've helped him break that taboo today. You see, Second Young Master Lan's much-praised and celebrated cultivation and upbringing — before me, they're all utterly defenseless.”

Jiang Cheng, his face dark, cursed: “What the hell are you so pleased with! What's there to be proud of! Being told to get out is some honorable thing? You're shaming our family!”

Wei Wuxian said, “I did want to admit my mistake to him, but he ignored me. He silenced me for so many days — what's wrong with me teasing him a bit? I gave him that book with good intentions. A pity though, Brother Huaisang, your treasured spring pictures. I hadn't even finished looking at them — so brilliant! That Lan Zhan really can't appreciate the finer things; showing him and he's not even happy, a total waste of that face.”

Nie Huaisang said, “No pity! As many as you want.”

Jiang Cheng sneered: “You've thoroughly offended Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren — tomorrow just wait for death! No one's going to collect your corpse.”

Wei Wuxian waved his hand and hooked an arm over Jiang Cheng's shoulder: “Don't worry about all that. The teasing comes first. You've collected my corpse so many times already, one more won't make a difference.”

Jiang Cheng kicked at him: “Get out, get out, get out! Next time you pull this kind of thing, don't let me know about it! And don't call me to watch!”