Chapter 158 Whispering
When Wei Wuxian awoke again, the sunlight from the window had slanted down to the foot of the bed, carving a pattern of light and dark across the floorboards. The room was silent, with only the ticking of the second hand of the wall clock, as if counting the fragments of time.
He moved his fingers and felt something warm and soft - it was Lan Wangji's hand, holding his own. The warmth from his palm seeped through his skin, soothing and reassuring.
Lan Wangji seemed to sense that he was awake. His eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes. The redness in his eyes was heavier than in the morning, but the moment he met his gaze, a gentle ripple appeared in his eyes: "Awake?"
Wei Wuxian nodded, his throat itching. Just as he was about to speak, Lan Wangji pressed his lips against his. "Don't be so hasty," he said, getting up to pour a glass of warm water and grabbing a lozenge from the bedside table. "Suck this in your mouth first."
As the orange-flavored candy melted on his tongue, Wei Wuxian suddenly smiled, and the fine lines around his eyes smoothed out: "Lan Zhan, you're becoming more and more like an old woman."
Lan Wangji adjusted the angle of his pillow for him. Upon hearing this, he only glanced at him calmly, but his tone was filled with indulgence: "It's better than someone coughing so hard that they can't speak, and still trying to force themselves to talk nonsense."
Wei Wuxian felt embarrassed by what he said, but he couldn't help but rub against him, like a cat seeking shelter. He could smell the clear soapberry fragrance on Lan Wangji's body, mixed with the faint scent of pine wood. It was the smell of Yunshen Pavilion, and also the smell of "home".
"Is Sizhui almost done with school?" He looked out the window, where the setting sun was dyeing the clouds a golden red. "Do you have homework today?"
"I asked the teacher this morning before leaving, and he said he had a weekly diary." Lan Wangji picked up the thin blanket next to him and covered his legs. "He said he wanted to write about 'My Daddy'."
Wei Wuxian's heart suddenly softened, like cotton soaked in warm water. "This brat," he chuckled softly, his eyes brimming with emotion. "What did he write about me? About me always being sick, or about me always making his father angry?"
"He said that when Daddy smiles, he looks beautiful. When Daddy secretly gives him candy. When Daddy coughs, he'll watch the stars with him." Lan Wangji's voice was soft, like he was reciting a poem. "He also said that when Daddy gets better, he'll teach him how to ride a bike."
Wei Wuxian's tears suddenly fell, hitting the quilt and leaving a small wet mark. He had always thought that he was the one being taken care of, but he had never expected that in Sizhui's heart, he was such a vivid and warm existence.
"Lan Zhan," he choked out, "Am I useless? I can't even ride a bike with him."
Lan Wangji reached out and wiped away his tears, the warmth of his fingertips carrying a soothing force. “In Sizhui’s eyes, you’re the best father. In my eyes, too.” He paused, then took Wei Wuxian’s hand and pressed it against his chest. “Listen, this place is beating more vigorously because of you. That’s enough.”
Wei Wuxian looked at his serious expression and suddenly smiled, but his tears fell even harder. He knew that Lan Wangji never lied, but this heavy recognition made him feel both warm and bitter.
As he was speaking, the sound of keys turning came from downstairs, followed by a burst of brisk footsteps.
"Daddy! Father! I'm back!"
Lan Sizhui rushed into the bedroom with his schoolbag on his back. Seeing Wei Wuxian awake, his eyes instantly lit up like two stars. He ran to the bedside and carefully lay on the edge, as if afraid of touching Wei Wuxian. "Daddy, are you feeling better today?"
“Much better.” Wei Wuxian ruffled his hair, his fingertips touching the child’s soft curls. “Was you good in school today?”
"Good boy!" Lan Sizhui nodded vigorously and pulled out a drawing from his bag like he was presenting a treasure. "The teacher praised my progress in drawing. This is a talisman I drew for Daddy. Wearing it will keep you from getting sick."
The painting shows a crooked little man wearing red clothes and holding a sword in his hand. Next to it is written in childish handwriting: "Daddy, get better soon."
Wei Wuxian took the painting, his fingers gently stroking the paper, his eyes welling up again. He carefully tucked the painting into the book beside his bed, cherishing it like a rare treasure. "Thank you, Sizhui. I hope Dad gets better soon."
Lan Sizhui looked at his pale face and suddenly remembered something. He took out a candy wrapped in candy paper from his pocket, peeled it open and handed it to him: "Daddy, eat this candy and it won't be bitter."
It was an orange-flavored candy, the same one Lan Wangji had given him that morning. Wei Wuxian held it in his mouth, the sweetness spreading across his tongue, yet it felt sweeter than ever before. He knew that hidden within this candy was a child's purest heartache.
Lan Wangji stood aside, watching the father and son snuggle together, the smile in his eyes so gentle it could drip with water. He turned and walked out of the bedroom, going to the kitchen to prepare dinner, leaving them to whisper in the sunset.
In the kitchen, a soup pot bubbled with the lotus root and pork rib soup Jiang Yanli had brought. Lan Wangji lifted the lid, the steam wafting through his eyes blurring their brows, yet it couldn't hide the warmth in them.
He remembered that many years ago, by the cold spring in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian was like this too, coughing and pretending to be strong, saying that he was "fine"; he remembered those days in the mass grave, when he huddled in the thatched hut, coughing as if he was going to cough out his lungs, but still smiled and said, "When I get out, I'll take you to see the lotus flowers in the Lotus Pier."
Now, they finally have a home and a child who misses each other. All the hardships in the past seem to have become footnotes to the happiness of the moment.
In the bedroom, Wei Wuxian was listening to Sizhui recounting interesting stories from school. Occasionally, he'd cough, and Sizhui would immediately hand him a glass of water, gently patting his back with his little hand, like a little adult. The setting sun shone through the window, stretching their shadows so long that they intertwined, making it impossible to tell them apart.
"Daddy," Sizhui suddenly said, "When you get better, let's go to the park and fly a kite. I made a big kite with the three of us painted on it."
“Okay.” Wei WuXian smiled and nodded, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice. “I’ll definitely go.”
He knew that the road to recovery might still be long and the pain might recur, but as long as he had the two people he loved by his side and this heavy concern, he had the courage to move on.
The last ray of sunlight faded below the horizon outside the window, and night gently enveloped Yunshen Pavilion. The aroma of pork rib soup wafted from the kitchen, soft laughter echoed from the bedroom, and the ticking of the wall clock was still clear, as if beating a gentle rhythm to this ordinary yet warm evening.
This may be what life is all about—there are pains and tears, but also the sweetness of sugar and the warmth of each other. And the love and care hidden in the details will eventually illuminate every difficult road like the stars in the dark night.
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