A hand pressed into the hollow of his hips, stroked the skin there. He shuddered, thrusting up, but couldn’t move. His ass was long since open and stretched, but the man hadn’t fucked in; his cock was long since hard and weeping, but the man hadn’t let him cum. All he had done, for long minutes, was whisper praise into his skin. Jiang Cheng was going to break.

Lan Zhan looked too old, sometimes, staring into the blinding sun of dawn. He looked like he had gone somewhere Wei Wuxian couldn’t follow, beyond the scope of the horizon. Resentful energy swirled black and terrible at that thought, and Wei Wuxian laughed it to shattering pieces. Lan Zhan had stayed, but that didn’t mean he would forever.