Without Sorrow

Chapter 1

To love was to yearn and to cherish. The words of an ancestor; dark ink on the faded paper of an ancient scroll could not be more truthful, Lan Wangji thought.

In the hushed quiet of the early dawn, the fine comb glides down a long waterfall of obsidian black hair. Each motion is rhythmic, an old habit born from childhood. His hand rises, a flash of pale skin in the gloom of the inn room, blending into the white of his inner robes.

Sounds from outside are muted and faraway, the city only just beginning to greet the new day. The autumn air brought a chill, as if touched by the hand of winter but the son of Gusu paid the weather no mind.

The sun partially hidden by the bank of clouds that promised rain, was only a faint pink hue behind the curtains.

A murmur muffled by cloth came from the other side of the room.

At the slight noise gold eyes moved with reverent interest to the figure curled beneath the blankets of the bed. Lan Wangji held his breath as an elegant leg shifted, the long outline of calf and thigh restless for moment, before like a slithering snake the body moved, turning on its side away from the window.

Wei Ying.

The man so recently returned to the living, had no idea how cherished these moments were. Nestled in the heart of the man watching in the shadows of the room as he tried to go about his morning routine. Never had it taken him so long to prepare for the day, never had been so distracted.

But Wei Ying was distracting. He felt that every moment, especially now in the early dawn when the hush of the world gave him this quiet intimacy, it must be treasured. He was experiencing new wonders about Wei Ying to learn and cherish.

Before the...his mind silenced the thought that provoked the bottomless grief in his heart. He was alive. Beautifully alive. He told himself sternly.

Before his return, Lan Wangji had no idea...could never have imagined how Wei Ying slept. That he could lie so still one moment, then sprawl across the bed the next. A tangle of limbs and the covers were always kicked or thrown off his moving form, revealing a long leg or pale arm to the chill of the air.

His own hand would be moving before conscious thought could check the motion, to pull those cover back over Wei Ying's body.

How he loved him.

Gold eyes ran over the sprawling form now. Admiring with a slight flush the sleek dark hair, that flowed over the pillow and across the blankets, tumbling unbound to trail over the edge of the mattress.

Mo Xuanyu's hair was longer than Wei Ying's had been in his...former body. It was no less manageable though and here in the quiet darkness of the dawn, Lan Wangji smiled.

How he loved Wei Ying's hair. Well...all of him really...but sometimes it felt as though he was admiring Wei Ying anew. The precious soul he had devoted himself to was now sheltered in the body of Mo XuanYu and while it didn't make Lan Wangji love him any less, it was something he had been forced to adapt to.

The face and body he had long admired, craved and treasured from afar was long gone. In its place was another form and one he was taking time to memorize. Learning by sight the new curve of his jaw, the elegant stride, the pale wrists that were thinner than he remembered...

His fingers twitched, the desire to touch near overwhelming.

The Jin Clan were famed for long fine hair and they were certainly proud of it. Mo Xuanyu, despite his Jin Clan blood, seemed to have inherited thick, almost wavy locks that reminded Lan Wangji of the lighter, untamed hair of Wei Wuxian.