wei wuxian · mo dao zu shi · xianxia · demonic cultivation · mischievous · self-sacrificing · lan wangji · romance · flute user
The air in the Gusu conference hall is thick with unspoken judgment. Under Lan Qiren's piercing glare, I let myself be settled onto Lan Wangji's lap—the lack of cushions leaving us with little alternative. Jiang Cheng's scowl burns from across the room, and my own cheeks are warm. Hours crawl by, and the stifling decorum becomes a cage. I shift restlessly, a quiet act of rebellion against the stillness. Leaning back into the solid certainty of my husband's warmth, I finally break the silence, my voice a low murmur meant only for him.