『0.1』

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The sky deepened into a dark blue, seeping into its orange hues as the sun makes its descent on the horizon. Freckles of light littered the night, dancing and sparkling like jewels in the sky. Like a graceful queen, the moon rose to her throne amongst the stars, draping her voile gown over the surface of the Earth, painting the lands a snowy white.

Under her divine glow, the Cloud Recesses glimmered ever so beautifully.

Tall white buildings towered over winding grounds, standing like ethereal palaces over the lands. Candle-lit lamps dotted its walls and seeped across winding gravel paths, illuminating the sanctuary of Gusu Lan Sect like fireflies in the fields.

Upon laying eyes on this landscape, one would let out a gasp and exclaim, "How beautiful!"

Yet...

To Lan Wangji, it was cold, dull, and quiet.

For how long had he been sitting there, gazing down at the place he called home?

For how long had he been sitting there, outdoors on the wooden floorboards of Jingshi?

For how long had he been sitting there, playing his guqin until his limbs grew numb?

For how long—


"That's enough..." a gentle voice whispered in Lan Wangji's ears, as a pair of warm hands cradled his own and halted his playing.

The melody of the guqin came to an end and silence returned to the Jingshi.

Lan Wangji stared blankly at the pair of hands encasing his, before lifting his gaze and meeting a pair of ruby red eyes, framed by lashes of white. "Qiānjié." The name trickled out from his lips in a breathy whisper.

Red hues of the male dilated in fondness as his lips curled into a smile. "It's getting cold. You should come inside," Qianjie advised. He raised his hands up, lifting Lan Wangji's hand up to his lips. With a deep exhale, Qianjie enveloped Lan Wangji's hand in a heated gust, before rubbing their hands together to warm up the ice-cold fingers within his hold.

If this happened a decade ago, Lan Wangji's ears would have flushed a deep red, before pulling his hand back and averting Qianjie's gaze.

Now, after everything they have been through together, and having a place in his heart left hollowed, Lan Wangji welcomed such warmth more than ever.

In his daze, he vaguely felt the weight of his guqin being lifted off his thighs. An arm wrapped around the back of his waist and a warm body pressed up against him, lifting him up from the floorboards.

Lang Wangji almost sunk back down to the ground, but luckily, Qianjie caught him and pulled him back up, stabalising him on his feet—which he had lost feeling in hours ago.

Qianjie supported Lan Wangji across the room and to his bed, carefully seating the man down on the cushioned surface. Making sure Lan Wangji had his back steadily leaned against the wall, Qianjie said, "Wait here."

Qianjie left the room and brought back a wooden pail. With routined practice, Qianjie set the pail down on the ground beside the bed and took a seat beside Lan Wangji. He soaked a towel with the water in the pail before squeezing it dry. Then, he wrapped one of Lan Wangji's hand with the towel—which had been dipped into warm water, Lan Wangji noted.

Lan Wangji silently watched as Qianjie repeated the action until both of his hands regained their original colour and warmth. However, as soon as the numbing cold receded, the tips of his fingers flared and burned in biting pain.

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