Work Text:
The Year of the Snake had been quiet.
Reflective. Watchful. Full of coiled patience.
Wei Wuxian had endured it admirably.
But when the calendar turned and the red banners went up announcing the arrival of the Fire Horse, he decided patience was officially over.
“Energy, passion, forward momentum,” he read aloud from his phone, flopped upside down over the edge of the sofa. “Lan Zhan, do you hear that? It’s practically telling us to cause trouble.”
Lan Wangji, seated at the low table meticulously brushing calligraphy ink onto bright red paper, did not look up.
“Mn.”
Wei Wuxian twisted farther so his hair nearly brushed the floor. “It says the Fire Horse hasn’t appeared in sixty years. Sixty! That means this is historic. Momentous. Possibly dangerous.”
Lan Wangji finished the final stroke before responding. “You are always dangerous.”
Wei Wuxian beamed. “But now I’m astrologically supported.”
⸻
Lunar New Year’s Eve
Their apartment glowed warm and golden.
Red paper cuttings adorned the windows—horses mid-gallop, manes flaring like flames. Gold tassels hung from doorknobs. A pair of carefully written 春联 (Spring Festival couplets) framed the door in Lan Wangji’s precise hand:
奔腾万里迎新岁
Gallop ten thousand miles into the new year.
烈火长明护所爱
May blazing fire guard what is cherished.
Wei Wuxian had insisted on adding a third line in smaller script at the bottom:
含光君是我的。
Hanguang-jun is mine.
Lan Wangji had not objected.
They had spent the afternoon cleaning—thoroughly, as tradition demanded—sweeping out the last remnants of the Snake year’s introspection and opening the windows to let in cold winter air and possibility.
Now the scent of ginger, soy, and sesame drifted from the kitchen.
Wei Wuxian stood over a tray of dumplings, flour dusting his cheek. “Lan Zhan, if I hide a coin in one, you’re not allowed to pretend you didn’t get it.”
“I will not pretend.”
“You always win these things.”
Lan Wangji folded another dumpling with quiet efficiency. “I do not compete.”
“You absolutely compete. You’re just dignified about it.”
Lan Wangji’s gaze flickered toward him—fond, unamused, indulgent all at once.
Wei Wuxian’s chest tightened pleasantly.
⸻
Reunion Dinner
They set the table with intention.
Whole fish, symbol of abundance. Longevity noodles carefully unbroken. Sweet rice balls waiting for dessert.
Wei Wuxian raised his glass of warm rice wine. “To the Fire Horse.”
Lan Wangji lifted his own. “To forward momentum.”
Wei Wuxian grinned. “To reckless decisions.”
Lan Wangji’s eyes softened. “To chosen ones.”
Wei Wuxian blinked.
He recovered quickly, of course. “Ah, Lan Zhan, if you keep saying things like that, I’ll start thinking you’re the romantic one.”
Lan Wangji did not deny it.
They ate slowly, sharing bites across the table the way they always did—Lan Wangji removing fish bones with careful precision before placing the cleanest piece into Wei Wuxian’s bowl. Wei Wuxian retaliating by stealing dumplings from Lan Wangji’s plate and declaring it “mutual prosperity.”
At midnight, fireworks erupted beyond the balcony—bursts of red and gold against the winter sky.
Wei Wuxian tugged Lan Wangji outside without ceremony.
The air was cold enough to sting.
Lan Wangji wrapped his coat around both of them.
They stood pressed close, watching the sky ignite.
“Fire Horse,” Wei Wuxian murmured. “Passion and freedom. That sounds like me.”
“It does,” Lan Wangji agreed.
Wei Wuxian tilted his head. “And you?”
Lan Wangji considered. “Momentum.”
Wei Wuxian laughed softly. “You’ve always been the steady one. I run ahead. You make sure I don’t fall off a cliff.”
Lan Wangji’s arm tightened around his waist. “If you fall, I will follow.”
The fireworks crackled and roared overhead.
Wei Wuxian’s breath caught—not from the cold.
⸻
Red Envelopes
On the first morning of the new year, Wei Wuxian woke to find a red envelope placed carefully on his pillow.
He turned onto his side.
Lan Wangji was already awake, watching him.
Wei Wuxian sat up, hair wild, and tore the envelope open with exaggerated excitement.
Inside was not money.
It was a small slip of paper.
In Lan Wangji’s elegant script:
愿你所行之路皆有我同行。
May every road you walk have me beside you.
Wei Wuxian stared at it.
“You’re cheating,” he said hoarsely. “You can’t put things like that in a hongbao. It’s supposed to be money.”
Lan Wangji reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “It is investment.”
“In what?”
“Our future.”
Wei Wuxian launched himself forward, nearly knocking Lan Wangji back into the headboard.
“This Fire Horse year is going to ruin me,” he declared, burying his face against Lan Wangji’s shoulder.
Lan Wangji’s hand settled warm and steady at his back.
“You thrive in fire,” he said quietly.
Wei Wuxian pulled back just enough to look at him. “And you?”
Lan Wangji’s gaze was heated, unwavering.
“I will keep it burning.”
⸻
Lantern Festival
Two weeks later, they walked through a sea of lanterns swaying in the night.
Horses made of silk and light floated above the crowd.
Wei Wuxian insisted on writing a wish and tying it to a display.
Lan Wangji watched as he wrote, shielding the paper from prying eyes.
“What did you wish for?” Lan Wangji asked.
Wei Wuxian tucked the brush away. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
Lan Wangji nodded.
They stood together beneath the lantern glow.
Wei Wuxian leaned into him. “Fine. I’ll tell you part of it.”
Lan Wangji waited.
“It involves momentum,” Wei Wuxian admitted. “And not standing still anymore.”
Lan Wangji turned to face him fully.
“We will not stand still,” he said.
There was no dramatic flourish in his voice. No grand vow.
Just certainty.
Wei Wuxian felt it like heat spreading through his chest—steady, unwavering.
Fire.
The Fire Horse year would bring passion. Energy. Forward motion.
But as the lanterns drifted upward and fireworks shimmered faintly in the distance, Wei Wuxian realized something softer too:
Momentum did not mean rushing.
It meant moving together.
He slipped his fingers into Lan Wangji’s sleeve, lacing their hands.
“Lan Zhan,” he said lightly, though his smile was tender, “let’s gallop into this year properly.”
Lan Wangji intertwined their fingers.
“Mn.”
And beneath the red lantern sky of the Fire Horse, they stepped forward—side by side.