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Guided by the light of the full moon, they reached the small lake in the clearing when it was already late at night.
The quiet was perfect, although there wasn’t silence, or at least not in the true meaning of the word. The breeze made a concert out of the rustling leaves and the sounds of the night animals.
After several weeks, they were accustomed to traveling in the darkness, taking advantage of the shadows to escape the Wen patrols and cross the villages they guarded. They had spent each night pushed by the need to find a place to hide before dawn, fearing that daylight would reveal them to their enemy.
That night, however, was different. That night would have been the last.
Meng Yao and Lan Xichen laid down their travel bags, careful to make as little noise as possible, as if mindful of disturbing the orchestra of leaves, grass, and crickets.
For Lan Xichen, it would be the last night of being on the run. Tomorrow, Zewu-Jun would return to Gusu and join the clans rallying against the Wens.
For Meng Yao, instead, it would be the last night of relative freedom. Tomorrow he would disappear beyond the walls of Nightless City to carry on with the plan devised by him and Xichen.
Meng Yao knelt next to their meager belongings and, like he always did, checked that everything was in order. Xichen’s bag contained, among other things, the Gusu Lan clan clothes, which Yao had insisted on keeping hidden, to avoid unwanted attention. His fingers found Xichen’s dragon-shaped hair ornament under the fabric hiding it, and he spent a few moments tracing its shape. Everything was right in its place, just as it should.
They could not afford the slightest flaw in their plan, after all. It was ambitious and dangerous, but Meng Yao smiled to himself, feeling a hint of pride for his idea and for the trust Zewu-Jun had laid upon him.
He turned toward Lan Xichen, but his companion wasn’t behind him anymore. His eyebrows furrowed as Meng Yao searched for him, but he spotted him immediately, his figure tall against the water of the lake, shining in the moonlight.
Meng Yao walked toward him. Lan Xichen was staring at the ripples created by the wind on the surface of the water and did not turn when Meng Yao halted by his side.
“Zewu-Jun,” Meng Yao whispered, “we should finish our preparations. We will rest here until dawn, and then…”
“A-Yao, when dawn comes, our paths will part,” said the other man simply. He turned to Meng Yao with a placid smile. “We found a place that offers us the gift of peace, don’t you think we should take full advantage of it, tonight?”
Before Meng Yao could say anything in return, Lan Xichen started to undress, dropping his garments on the grass in disarray. Taken by surprise, it took Meng Yao a few moments before he could react.
“Zewu-Jun, they will get dirty…!” he cried, instinctively kneeling down to pick up the layers of fabric as they fell.
“Leave them, A-Yao. I will not wear them anymore, come tomorrow, so why bother?”
Meng Yao allowed himself to look at him openly. Modesty between them should have been unnecessary at this point but, once again, he felt his breath catch in his throat. White moonlight shone on Xichen’s fair skin and wove silver reflections among his black hair, now loose on his back and shoulders. Underneath it, a maze of shadows drew the shape of his back muscles and bottom.
“You are right, however,” Xichen said softly. “It is unlike me to leave things untidy. Perhaps, I have spent too much time away from Gusu, and I have started to forget my manners.”
Under Meng Yao’s fixed gaze, he knelt to gather his clothes and fold them neatly. Meng Yao stared at him, enraptured by the way moonlight redrew the shape of Xichen’s body as his muscles flexed and stretched under his milky skin. Afterward, Lan Xichen stepped inside the water and turned to Meng Yap, gesturing for him to follow.
“Come in, A-Yao! It isn't cold!”
To confirm his words, he dove in and disappeared under the surface.
Meng Yao hesitated for a few moments. Half of his brain still insisted on the necessity to go through their plan for the next day once again, while the other half realized that, if he wanted to keep a hint of rationality, he did need a cold bath indeed.
He undressed, folded his own clothes next to Xichen’s, and followed him.
After two steps on the uneven and muddy lake bottom, he suddenly found himself deep to his shoulder in the ice-cold water.
Xichen surfaced not far from him. Covered in pearl-like drops, his skin shone like pale jade. He rubbed his eyes and, when he saw Meng Yao was joining him, he smiled. He swam to him with slow, elegant movements, his black hair forming a mantle around him.
“I missed bathing while surrounded by nature,” Xichen confessed. “In Gusu, we have a cold spring where we can restore ourselves.”
Meng Yao had heard of it from Huaisang; however, during his brief stay in Gusu, he had not seen it. Even if he had had time to, anyway, a servant would not have been allowed to use it. Besides, if, according to Lan standard, the water of the lake could be defined as lukewarm and the water of the spring as cold, Meng Yao wasn’t so sure he wanted to try it.
“When all is over and you come to Gusu once again, we will go there together,” Xichen added, looking at him - and the shadows around his cheekbones made his eyes even bigger and deeper, while a few strands of black hair, damp with water, stuck to his neck and chest.
…how cold could Gusu’s spring water really be, after all?
“I take it as a promise, Xichen-ge.”
If there had been an “after”, if they had still been alive, in that “after”, then…
Lan Xichen came closer and raised a hand to caress his cheek.
They shared a silent kiss, tasting the lake on each other’s lips.
Lan Xichen’s hands began roaming on Meng Yao’s back in long strokes, trailing along his spine. With a soft sight of approval, Meng Yao turned, letting his companion’s finger linger here and there on his chest, tracing the shape of his collarbones, and his breastbone, slowly crawling down.
“Xichen-ge, aren’t we a bit selfish? Tonight, we are offered peace and quiet, but war is raging not far from us,” he murmured, laying the back of his head on Xichen’s shoulder.
“One who fights must spend some time in peace and quiet,” Lan Xichen answered, his voice a warm whisper. “They would forget what they are fighting for, otherwise.”
His lips closed on Meng Yao’s left earlobe and his hand slipped over his stomach.
Meng Yao held his breath, arching his neck to offer it to Lan Xichen, allowing his lips to go down toward his throat and collarbones.
“Someone like Zewu-Jun,” he whispered, savoring the kisses and the feeling of Xichen’s chest pressed against his back, “could never forget his objective, not even in the midst of the fiercest of battles - ah!” His last word turned into a moan of surprise when Lan Xichen’s hand started caressing him, his fingers gently folding around his erection.
Meng Yao turned to kiss him again, raising a hand to stroke his hair and pulling him close.
“Tell me about Gusu’s cold spring again,” Meng Yao said, his voice already coarse. “I heard it is used to quell the disciples’ most ardent spirits.”
“It depends,” Xichen said, while his other hand stroked his tight, “on how hot the spirit burns.”
His long fingers found their way between Yao’s buttocks, exploring him with small, circling movements.
Meng Yao arched his back and pressed against Xichen’s chest, his feet pointing against the unstable bottom of the lake.
Lan Xichen held him up with his own body, tormenting his throat with kisses, tongue, and lips skillfully pressing and sucking in the places that made Meng Yao weak and that Lan Xichen now knew by heart.
His mind already clouded in pleasure, Meng Yao marveled at how those long fingers could combine such kindness and strength. He wanted them on him, around him, inside him for the whole night, he told himself, and then he opened his eyes, trying to hold onto something to resist the pleasure that was slowly overtaking him.
The full moon, high over the treetops, watched them, aloof and beautiful.
His ears were full of the lapping noise of the water around them, becoming increasingly more frantic, until it was interrupted by his own moan, as the orgasm took him almost by surprise.
He collapsed against Xichen’s chest, sliding in the water to his chin, and Xichen grabbed him by the waist. Eyes closed, Meng Yao allowed himself to be cradled by the small waves lapping at them - the water, now, felt anything but cold.
Lan Xichen bent over him and kissed his forehead, and Meng Yao pushed against him to search for his mouth. It was a funny position, and an uncomfortable one, but Meng Yao was in such a state of grace that he did not mind a few contortions.
“A-Yao…” Lan Xichen seemed to taste the sound of that name on his lips, still warm after the kiss.
Meng Yao turned and rested his forehead in the crook of his neck. Xichen smiled, folding his arms around his back and holding him close.
They stood, embracing, for a long time, while Xichen combed A-Yao’s hair, smoothing it over his head and back. He held his eyes closed, allowing his imagination to dare.
A-Yao and he would bathe in one of the many lakes surrounding Gusu. Outside, waiting for them, there wouldn’t be bags filled with meager belongings and wars to fight, but the Hanshi with his silent rooms. They would fill that silence with the sound of Liebing and A-Yao’s guqin, with quiet conversations, with sweet words whispered among the finely embroidered sheets of his residence…
…if the Hanshi and the other residences still existed. If Gusu was still there as he had left it. If his family was still there waiting for him.
The Hanshi could be rebuilt. But the lives of the people he hoped to find at home and the lives of the people he wanted to bring home with him could not.
Xichen held A-Yao closer, and just then the other man was shaken by a shiver.
“Are you cold, A-Yao?” he asked, rubbing his back.
“Only a bit.”
Lan Xichen felt cold too, now, but it was not because of the water.
“Come, let’s get out.” He took Meng Yao’s hand and guided him to shore. Meng Yao followed him obediently and in silence. Lan Xichen left his hand next to the pile of clothes and walked to their bags to look for clean undergarments.
It was almost ridiculous that the lives they had led in those past weeks could be summarized in those few things. Despite the few objects they carried with them, Lan Xichen’s life had been rewritten more than once. The attack on Gusu, his escape, and his new encounter with A-Yao. He had lost and gained so much.
And now, his life was about to be rewritten once again.
He wondered what would be left in his hands, once the war was over.
While he was lost in his thoughts, kneeling on the grass, he suddenly felt two arms embracing his shoulders.
He had moved so stealthily on the grass, that Xichen had not heard him come. He could feel the skin of his chest pressing against his back, still naked and wet.
“Xichen-ge has become somber and quiet all of a sudden.” A-Yao’s nose and lips found their way through his soaked hair, searching for his neck. “Perhaps it is A-Yao’s fault?”
Xichen smiled. He found that falsely childish voice endearing, knowing it was aimed at softening him.
“It is not.”
As an answer, the other man slowly traced the shape of his jaw with his tongue, sucking at the waterdrops sliding on his skin.
“If A-Yao was not the cause, then perhaps he may find a remedy.”
“Of course he can,” Lan Xichen murmured, only half aware of the words leaving his lips, while Meng Yao’s hands roamed on his chest and abdomen and he searched for Xichen’s mouth with his own.
Come with me tomorrow , he found himself wishing. Do not disappear among the Wen, where I cannot follow you.
It was a childish and useless wish. They had the very precise duty to do all they could to change the outcome of the war. The distance between them would be a small price to pay for the good of the cultivation world and all the Clans - and yet, in that moment, it cost him all his strength of will.
Meng Yao pulled him closer and they found themselves lying in the wet grass of the clearing. Xichen sank his knees and his left elbow in the soil, as he methodically prepared A-Yao with his right hand. On top of the scent of nature around them, there was a faint smell of oil (and it was funny to think that in their bags, half-empty with few clothes and food, they would always have a couple of vials).
Meng Yao seemed to guess his thoughts. He languidly moved underneath Xichen, making himself more comfortable, and tilted his head to the side, a playful smile on his lips.
“We could finish it tonight,” he suggested, looking at him under his long eyelashes. “The moon is still high in the sky…”
…and, from tomorrow on, we will have no use for it, Xichen thought, but then he felt Meng Yao’s legs circling his waist to pull him down.
Xichen freed his right hand to grab his hips and lift him against himself. He obtained a small snort that turned immediately into a sigh, as Meng Yao arched his back and hips to welcome him.
Lan Xichen followed his invitation.
In the darkness, he took in voraciously all the changes in the shadows on A-Yao’s face, as he disclosed his lips and closed his eyes, underneath his slightly knitted dark eyebrows.
He moved inside him with careful slowness, savoring each small sensation, to even the smallest movement of the body underneath him.
He looked at how A-Yao bit his lip and tilted his head back, just to turn it aside to let Xichen kiss him - and Xichen did so, tracing an elaborate pattern from his neck to his face, covering his eyelids, forehead, nose, and mouth in small kisses. He wanted to imprint those shapes in his memory - the texture of his skin, his scent…
All of a sudden, A-Yao took his face in his hands and pushed him away, to look into his eyes. Lan Xichen stopped. For a few moments, all they could hear was the wind in the trees and their accelerated breath.
“Xichen-ge,” Meng Yao scolded him eventually, his tone exaggeratedly stern, as if he had just caught a child stealing sweets. “Do not bid me farewell while we are still together.”
Lan Xichen parted his lips to speak, but did not know what to say.
Meng Yao smiled then and leaned toward him, to whisper in his ear: “Not before we finish that vial”.
Lan Xichen pushed him down and Meng Yao clung to him, his tights clasping his hips. Xichen pressed him against the grass and A-Yao surrendered.
Xichen called his name, begged for it, and his companion answered with tenderness, as if he wanted to console him, until their voices broke and Xichen felt A-Yao’s fingers sink into the skin of his back.
Now sated, they lay on their backs, their hands intertwined between them, their shoulders touching.
After resting for a while in silence, Lan Xichen turned to his companion, wondering if perhaps he had fallen asleep, but he found his eyes fixed on him. Caught red-handed, A-Yao smiled, his dimples even darker in the shadows of the clearing.
He reached out to caress his cheek, then laughed.
“Zewu-Jun, you’re covered in leaves and grass.” He produced a twig from behind Xichen’s ear.
“And you have soil on the tip of your nose.” Xichen rubbed it away with his thumb. He sat up, realizing that his hair was still damp and plastered in mud.
“A-Yao, let’s go back to the lake and wash up”, he proposed standing up.
They walked to the shore hand in hand, but before Lan Xichen could step in the water again, Meng Yao stopped.
“Xichen-ge, we will make it.”
Xichen halted, the water caressing his feet.
Standing side by side, they looked at the moon on the water, and A-Yao’s hold tightened around Xichen’s hand.
“You and I, together, have the power to change the fate of this war.”
His companion’s voice sounded steady and certain, and Lan Xichen turned to look at him.
The most dangerous role belonged to A-Yao, and yet he did not seem to hide any doubt or second thoughts. Xichen knew that if there was someone who could play the part of the spy among the Wen, it was A-Yao.
Furthermore, not even he himself was going to be safe, fighting in the front line. No one would be.
It was just that he wasn’t ready to risk losing everything once again.
But his companion was right. The moon was still high and it wasn’t yet time for their farewell.
A-Yao advanced in the water and Xichen followed him. Together, they bathed in the fresh waters of the lake.