( cold-blooded. as in cold-blooded murder. lan wangji walks over by chance, halts by choice, his morning stroll interrupted by a familiar sight that stiffens his entire body. how dare he. how dare he show himself in broad daylight and basks in the sunβs warmth, as if thinking himself worthy of its light. lan wangji immediately regrets leaving bichen behind (for wei wuxian, just in case), a fistful of empty air as he stops tense-jawed beside him, a sidelong glance.
his brother is the only barrier that stands between them, and lan wangji sits in front of him, unhurried, his usual grace slightly less fluid than it should be. he doesnβt say anything, which isnβt exactly unheard of, but his mouth is pursed in a tight frown and his stare needles through jin guangyao pleasant faΓ§ade, an abundance of heat behind his glare.
no subject
his brother is the only barrier that stands between them, and lan wangji sits in front of him, unhurried, his usual grace slightly less fluid than it should be. he doesnβt say anything, which isnβt exactly unheard of, but his mouth is pursed in a tight frown and his stare needles through jin guangyao pleasant faΓ§ade, an abundance of heat behind his glare.
hello, lianfang-zun. )