Twin Flames
935 Words
Lan Sichen was only a year old when Wei Wuxian began to feel it again.
At first, he brushed it off—just a twinge of warmth low in his abdomen, a strange flutter behind his ribs. He’d been busy, after all. Balancing sleepless nights with Sichen, teasing the juniors with his unconventional talismans, and being doted on by a husband who still looked at him like he held the stars.
But then came the dizzy spells. The sudden fatigue. The Nausea.The cravings that had Lan Wangji traipsing into town at midnight for pickled lotus root and red bean paste buns.
Wuxian stared at his reflection one morning—hair loose around his face, cheeks slightly flushed, a familiar heaviness returning to his hips and lower belly.
And he knew.
“I’m pregnant,” he blurted out over breakfast, mouth still half full of congee.
Lan Wangji froze mid-sip of tea.
“…Again?” he said, after a beat.
Wuxian gave a sheepish smile. “I guess Sichen missed company in the womb.”
Wangji rose and crossed the floor in a heartbeat, kneeling before him and pressing a reverent hand to the subtle curve already forming.
“Are you well?”
“I feel weird,” Wuxian admitted. “It’s stronger this time. Brighter. Hotter.”
They made an appointment with Madam Ru the next morning. This time, she didn’t just frown thoughtfully—she gasped.
“There are two,” she said, eyes wide. “You’re carrying twins.”
Wuxian nearly fainted. “Two?! How the hell—?!”
Lan Wangji gently supported him. “You did say you felt warmer.”
“Lan Zhan!”
But there was no panic this time, no fear. Just awe. Just a growing love—twice as bright.
Sichen was still too young to understand what was happening, but he clung to Wuxian more often than before, his little hands protective over his baba’s belly.
“He knows,” Wuxian said one afternoon as they lay beneath the blooming magnolia tree. “He can feel it.”
Wangji nodded, cradling his family in his arms. “They are connected.”
At night, Wuxian’s body ached—his sensitivity heightened, his heat pooling lower and more intense. Lan Wangji was careful with him, worshipping him with hands and mouth and body, murmuring praises between each kiss:
“You are divine…”
“You carry our legacy…”
“I love you—so much…”
One night, Wuxian came undone with a sob, arching into Wangji’s hands as twin pulses of pleasure wracked him, his womb quivering under his lover’s touch. He lay boneless in Wangji’s arms afterward, blinking up at the canopy with a dazed smile.
“I think they felt that,” he whispered.
Wangji merely kissed his lips, then his belly. “Let them know they are loved.”
The pregnancy progressed faster this time.
Wei Wuxian was radiant—cheeks glowing, eyes bright. The sect disciples whispered reverently about how even the flowers seemed to lean toward him as he passed.
Lan Qiren privately admitted, “He frightens me less now.”
Sizhui began to visit more, reading stories to Sichen and offering to carry Wuxian’s books. Jingyi reluctantly admitted, “I think the babies like my voice. They kick whenever I talk.”
“They kick when everyone talks,” Wuxian said with a grin.
Jiang Cheng sent jars of lotus seed soup and wrote long, awkward letters offering advice he’d gathered from sect women about twins. Wuxian cried over every one.
“I never thought we’d heal like this,” he said one night.
Lan Wangji kissed his hair. “You deserve it.”
Near the end of his second trimester, a surprise came: Jin Ling arrived at Cloud Recesses.
He stood tall and proud, golden robes trimmed with new phoenix embroidery. But the moment he saw Wuxian, his mouth quivered.
“Uncle,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Wuxian opened his arms. “Come here, Jin Ling.”
The boy flung himself forward, hugging him tightly, careful of the belly but desperate for closeness.
“You look—happy,” Jin Ling said, voice cracking. “You really do.”
Wuxian stroked his hair. “I am.”
“Will you tell them about me?” he asked, nodding at Wuxian’s belly.
“Of course,” Wuxian said. “They’ll know they have a cousin who’s brave and fierce and loyal.”
Jin Ling flushed with pride and wiped at his eyes.
Lan Sichen toddled over a moment later, stuffing a mangled rice cake into Jin Ling’s hand like an offering. The proud heir to the Jin Clan accepted it with a watery laugh.
By the seventh month, Wei Wuxian glowed like the sun.
He no longer walked far, but he rested in soft sun-drenched courtyards, twins rolling beneath his skin, surrounded by laughter, love, and quiet harmony.
At night, when the stars peeked through the bamboo screens, Lan Wangji laid beside him, hand always resting over the swell of life.
“Can you believe this?” Wuxian murmured one night, voice hushed in the dark.
“Yes,” Wangji replied. “Because you were always meant to be loved.”
Tears slipped down Wuxian’s cheeks. He turned, tangled their fingers together, and kissed him deeply.
“I want forever with you.”
“You have it.”
They made love in near silence that night—slow, reverent, spiritual. Wuxian climaxed with a soft moan, the twins fluttering inside him like moonlight made flesh.
He felt whole.
- Writer
