Chapter Text
Jiang Fengmian has never been a strict parent. He never needed to be - in the raising of their children his wife has that more than covered. But when they’d taken Wei Ying in, Ziyuan had been very clear that she wanted no involvement. By that point it was miraculous enough that she’d agreed to have him in their home at all and Fengmian knew not to push. “He is your responsibility.” She had said to him, as if they were talking about an unruly pet. “Don’t come begging for my help when he makes trouble. And if he lays even a finger on my children-”
And yes, Wei Ying’s early days were rocky. It was far from his fault, with everything that he’s been through. Ziyuan had spent much of that period away from Yunmeng, either working from her apartment in Wuhan or travelling even further afield. It was for the best. Wei Ying was not a bad kid, he needed a soft touch and a safe space to regain his footing, not the tight regimen and constant pressure that Ziyuan tends to bring.
That it has come to this now pains him. He takes no joy in enforcing curfews, and especially not in what has become a nightly ritual of watching the boy take the medication. It’s corrupted the relationship between them replacing the warmth and affection with tension and resentment.
Jiang Fengmian stands in his own kitchen, hands braced on the island counter. It’s a fair Saturday morning and Wei Ying is outside helping Jiang Yanli in her garden. He can hear the two of them out there, muffled chatter and frequent laughter. In the moment he could pretend everything is the way it used to be, happy and free.
The cell phone on the counter in front of him buzzes with another incoming text. Part of him wants to pretend he didn’t see it, to pour himself the coffee he’d come in here for and go back to his office. But his eyes flick down to the screen despite himself. The text is from ‘Wangji’, and here mysteriously, Wei Ying has added an emoji of a rabbit beside the contact name. Fengmian sighs heavily, wishing there was some other way.
Footsteps on the deck outside announce Wei Ying’s approach a moment before the boy himself bursts through the patio door. For an instant it’s like sunshine personified has flooded the room; he’s flushed from the heat and exertion, hair wild and smile wide. He’s still in pajama pants now streaked with dirt, filthy hands held aloft as he makes his way to the sink. But when he catches sight of Fengmian standing there waiting for him, he freezes like an animal caught in a snare.
It breaks Fengmian’s heart, it really does. In just one short year he’s come to think of this boy as a second son. Even going in knowing what he knows, knowing that it was never going to last for long. “A-Ying…”
“What, so you’re reading my texts now?” Wei Ying asks. He looks suddenly so weary and so tired. All of the joy and sunshine drained in an instant. His eyes glisten angrily, “Seems like the logical next step I suppose.”
“I told you that it was a bad idea to talk to Wangji.” Fengmian tries to keep his voice gentle, to keep the situation defused. “If you have questions I’d prefer you come to me.”
Wei Ying’s laugh is a strangled thing. “Come to you for what, dad ? because the thing is, Wangji actually gives me answers.”
Answers. Like the text that’s currently displayed on the screen, and answer to the question that Wei Ying has posed, [if i said i wanted to run away would u take me?] and the short and simple one word response [Yes.] followed by the second text, [Are you alright?] Fengmian hadn’t realized that Hanguang-Jun possessed a phone. The fact that he does certainly makes things that much more difficult. And if Wei Ying is at all serious; if he’s thinking of running...
He sighs. From across the bright kitchen Wei Ying is glaring at him but it falls short of being fierce when his chin quivers with emotion. Fengmian wishes...well. Mostly he wishes for a world where he could have adopted Wei Ying for real, and he could keep going to school with Cheng and come home to help Yanli weed her vegetables, where the most pressing concerns in his life would be studying and university applications. “I think It’s best if I hang onto your phone for a little while. I’m sorry A-Ying.”
Wei Ying doesn’t seem surprised, but it’s no less heart wrenching to watch the way his face twists in hopeless frustration. “So we aren’t even bothering to pretend anymore huh?” He chokes, voice reedy with emotion. “I’m a prisoner here aren’t I? Not allowed to go anywhere or talk to anyone. Might as well just make it official and lock me up.”
“That’s not true, it isn’t as simple as that.”
“It feels pretty simple to me!” A tear escapes the corner of Wei Ying’s eye, where he scrubs it angrily away. It leaves a dark streak of soil high on his cheek. “I don’t even remember what it was I did to deserve this punishment, but it must have been something terrible.”
“You aren’t being punished. I know it’s difficult but I need you to trust me in this. It’s for your own good.”
“Then give me something!” Wei Ying cries, “Anything! How can you expect me to trust you when I don’t have anything to go on!” He takes a step closer, dirty hands clenched into fists, jaw set in determination, “I want to stop taking the pills.”
“A-Ying, we’ve already been over this-”
Wei Ying interrupts, “Please. Dad . I get it if you can’t tell me anything directly - I think sucks, but okay, I can’t force you to. But it’s my brain and my memories, if I can just have the chance to remember on my own-”
“That’s…” Fengmian rubs his eyes, “that isn’t on the table. Your medication is crucial-”
“It’s not medication!” Wei Ying bursts. “It’s not healing anything! It’s not helping! It’s hurting me! You’re keeping me sedated like some sort of wild animal. And I might not be able to do anything about it but let’s stop pretending it’s something it’s not. Don’t expect me to be grateful .”
And the thing is that Fengmian knows that he’s wrong, but at the same time he’s not. Their reasons are what they are, but the facts of it are undeniable. They’d dressed it up to make it more palatable, pretending Wei Ying was their foster son, but it was always a thin disguise. He can’t quite bring himself to look directly at the young man in front of him, “If you aren’t going to cooperate-”
He cuts himself off, choosing his words as carefully as possible. “There are...certain stipulations to you staying with us. Your treatments are non-negotiable. If you refuse them I won’t be able to keep you here.”
The poor boy looks genuinely taken off guard by this, his mouth dropping open wordlessly. And ah, but he does look so young. Wounded and not knowing why. “You,” he says after a moment, “you’re going to kick me out?”
“I won’t have a choice. There are things at stake that go beyond me, beyond this family. I can only protect you if we do things the right way.”
“ The right way .” Wei Ying is the sort of person who is always laughing but now he lets out a harsh laugh, dark and strangled. It doesn’t suit him. “So it’s either be complicit in my own captivity or I’m shipped away?”
Fengmian has nothing to say that would make it any better so he just stands there helplessly. Wei Ying stays for another moment, staring at him with damp dark eyes like he’s hoping he’ll say more, or take back what’s already been said. When it’s clear that no such reassurance is coming he closes his eyes, sending another tear to trickle through the streak of mud.
They both jump when Jiang Cheng says, “Nobody is fucking sending you anywhere.” Neither of them had heard him come in, too absorbed in their conversation. He stands in the entryway now, windblown and grass-stained from morning practice. He looks furious.
“A-Cheng…” Fengmian pleads, caught now between his two distraught boys. “You’ve come in at a bad time, it’s not what you think.”
“I think I’ve heard enough. What the hell dad, you’re threatening to kick him out? After everything? What could possibly be more important than family?” He steps further into the kitchen, taking up position at Wei Ying’s shoulder. He looks so much like his mother in this moment, the same little snarl caught around the corners of his mouth that she always wears to a fight, the same flare of his nostrils when he speaks.
Wei Ying is staring at his brother wide-eyed. He hasn’t yet bothered to wipe away the fresh wave of tears, so he looks incredibly misty and vulnerable. Fengmian sees the way his son looks between them and knows he’s doomed. “Wipe your face, you're a mess.” Jiang Cheng says to Wei Ying, thrusting his sports towel into his hands. Wei Ying takes it gingerly, slowly bringing it up to dab at his eyes, and then scrubs the worst off his hands. Once he’s marginally less grimey, both boys turn together to regard their father. “Well?” Jiang Cheng demands, “What’s so important that you’re threatening to tear this family apart?”
What indeed? Standing here caught in the accusing gaze of his two sons, all of the years of careful planning seem to disintegrate. It’s easy to make choices between abstracts, less so when they’re staring you in the face. Fengmian leans his full weight on the counter. “If I tell you, things will change. There will be no going back.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” Wei Ying says quietly. “I don’t think going back was ever much of an option. Not for me at least. Jiang Cheng you-”
“Shut up. Don’t tell me this doesn’t involve me, because it does.”
Wei Ying blinks but nods and obediently doesn’t finish the sentence. But Fengmian can’t help but try one last time. “Son please. I never intended for this business to touch you, I promise I’ll do better, if you can just leave this be-”
But Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “Well then you shouldn’t have brought him here to begin with!” He snaps, “What did you expect to happen? You brought him here, you told us to treat him like our brother, and now you want me to just forget all that?”
A strange medley of pride and sorrow twists in Fengmian’s chests. What a wonderful, foolish boy they’ve raised. “Alright.” He concedes, “I will tell you what I can. I’m afraid I don’t actually know many of the answers that you want to know A-Ying, I’ve only been given the information that is relevant to my role here. But I can tell you my part in it.”
“Anything!” Wei Ying exclaims. “Anything is better than this.” He looks astonished that he’s won, light creeping back into his eyes. Fengmian wonders if it will still be there after they’re finished.
“Go get changed.” He tells them, “I’m going to take you somewhere. I’ll tell A-Li-” He halts, wondering if they expect him to bring their sister into this too. The thought is abhorrent, and Ziyuan might actually murder him. Bad enough the Jiang Cheng is entangled, if sweet gentle Yanli were to get dragged in too…
Thankfully both boys immediately shake their heads. “Not Jiejie.” Wei Ying pleads, looking as troubled by the idea as Fengmian feels. “She doesn’t - I don’t want her involved. She’s already done so much for me, I don’t want this to ruin anything else for her.” None of them say it; that if Yanli had even the slightest hint of what’s going on she would absolutely throw herself into it, she wouldn’t even think twice.
“I’ll tell her we’re going out then.” Fengmian agrees, relieved. “Bring jackets, it’ll be a bit cold.”
Both boys sit in the back seat on the drive over. They’re quiet for the most part, but at one point Wei Ying leans into the middle and murmurs, almost too low for Fengmian to overhear, “Thank you. For helping. I wasn’t sure if you - well, I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me. So thanks.”
Jiang Cheng scoffs, “What are you stupid? Of course I’m going to help you. I was mad at you but I’m not just going to stand there and listen to all that.” There’s a pause where all that fills the car is the hum of the engine, then, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you?”
“That you needed help! How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?”
“Oh. Haha.” Wei Ying’s voice sounds wet. Fengmian can only see a sliver of the back seat through the rearview mirror, and he sees when he lifts his arm to wipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Sorry. I’ll tell you next time.”
“You’d better.” Jiang Cheng grumbles, then they fall silent. He can see them both leaning against the windows. There’s a smile twitching around Wei Ying’s lips.
Not long later they pull into the cemetery parking lot. Neither boy says anything but both of them look mildly perplexed by the location. On a weekend morning the lot is fairly full with visiting families, but it shouldn’t matter. The place they’re going should be empty. The cemetery is a large one, set into the side of the hill with a path winding back and forth snakelike through the rows. They hike in silence, passing groups of people holding small picnics at their loved ones’ sides. The sun passes intermittently between fluffy white clouds, but the wind has the chill of autumn in it. And when they pass into the old part of the cemetery, where the forest has been allowed to retake some territory, the shade makes it quite brisk.
The graves grow older around them, old enough that there are no visitors, old enough that moss has encroached on the tombs, and eventually for the path to become rough and untended. Eventually the path ends entirely and now they’re walking through the woods. You have to be looking carefully to spot the graves, most of the characters are too worn to read.
The boys have been silent for the whole trip, but they let out twin gasps when the shrine rises out of the forest. It’s so well tucked into the curve of a rocky escarpment that you could walk right past it without noticing it was there. The roof and the short set of stairs are littered with fallen leaves that provide a natural camouflage. Between the pillars the interior is black with shadow. Only the carved dragon crouched on the roof retains any sense of grandeur. Otherwise it looks more of a hermitage than a temple.
Fengmian stops just before the crumbling stone steps to look at his two young companions. “You won’t remember, but this is where we first met A-Ying.”
Jiang Cheng looks around, disbelievingly at their surroundings. But Wei Ying keeps his eyes fixed steadily on Fengmian. Was it really just one year ago? It feels like more; like a lifetime. It also feels like blinking. “The first time I heard about you was in 1984. My father brought me here just as I’ve brought you now. And he told me about a boy named Wei Ying who lay sleeping in this temple. And he told me that it was my turn to take care of him.”
If Fengmian closes his eyes now he can picture it now. The chalky scent of the mountain mixing with the heady musk of the forest, the rustle of the trees above, the echo of birdsong. His old father, aged twofold by the weight of his time at war pressing down on shoulders that had once been broad and tall, now prematurely stooped. He’d been sick for a long time by that point, but in the months preceding had fallen even sicker. Everyone could tell that he was nearing the end, and on that day he had stated it outright for the first time. “I am going to die soon.” He had said. Fengmian, then twenty six years old, hadn’t bothered protesting. He’d already figured as much.
His father had been at war for nearly Fengmian’s entire childhood. He’d been at war on the day he was born, leaving his mother to bring their first child into the world all on her own. He’d made sporadic appearances throughout the years, enough to bring about Fengmain’s two younger sisters at least, but not much more. The fact was just that - a fact. Their mother provided enough love and affection, and the times that he was there were always shadowed by the presence of the war that followed the man wherever he went.
And when the war ended and Jiang Jianmin came home for good, it still followed him. Fengmian was seventeen years old, and he didn’t know the man who suddenly lived in the house he’d grown up in. He moved out within a year, a decision that was not unrelated by his father’s return.
That their father’s time at war had been difficult went without being said. Everyone knew - even if it wasn’t spoken about in public - how particularly bloody the fight had been. The government celebrated it as a victory, but it was hard to believe when you looked into the returning soldiers’ eyes. But over the following years Fengmian began to suspect that there was something more to his father’s trauma, something that he’d experienced beyond what his friends’ fathers had experienced. Something that had not yet come to an end, even after the fighting had.
He received confirmation that day in 1984, nearly a decade after his father came home. That thing that haunted Jiang Jianmin, that had followed him off the battlefield and into their home had a name. And that name was Wei Ying.
Jiang Jianmin had led his son into the cold, shadowy depths of the shrine that day, where a stone coffin sat. It was a hulking, ancient thing, covered in carved taoist sigils. A heavy chain was wound around it multiple times and sealed with a hefty lock. His father had pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it. He’d been too frail to lift the chain, so Fengmian had unwound it for him, and then obediently opened the heavy lid of the coffin, despite his instincts begging him not to.
Inside the coffin lay a boy. If he was dead, he was freshly so, without any sign of decay. He was certainly as pale as death, dressed in traditional white funeral robes only a shade lighter than his pallid complexion. His hair was long and loose around his shoulders, his hands lay folded on his chest. He was tragically young and pretty, the sight enough to bring tears to Fengian’s eyes. He’d been more emotional than usual, with Ziyuan four months pregnant with their first child.
“This is Wei Ying. He is the most dangerous person you will ever meet. He is your responsibility now.” This is what his father had said. Three deceivingly simple sentences that changed Fengmian’s life forever.
Wei Ying was hibernating. He had been hibernating for nine years by that point. Alone in his stone bed he neither ate nor drank, he did not produce bodily wastes, he did not even breath. But he was alive, kept young and healthy through the circulation of his unique qi, which replenished during long periods of hibernation. Unaging, he slumbered year in and year out.
It was difficult to wrap his head around the idea that this sleeping boy was dangerous. But his father told him of the things that Wei Ying had done when he’d been awake. The wrath that delicate pale boy-child had wrought during the war. The blood that he’d spilled and the unnatural horrors he’d brought forth. Like all of the deeds the soldiers did in that time it had been for the sake of the nation. Unlike the deeds the other soldiers did, it went against god and nature.
Jiang Jianmin had been charged with Wei Ying’s keeping after the war ended. Wei Ying’s slumber was apparently something that occurred at regular intervals, a thirteen year period of dormancy from which he would awake for three years before falling back to sleep. A sixteen year cycle that he’d been living since long before Jiang Fengmian was born. His father wouldn’t - or couldn’t - tell him exactly how long Wei Ying had existed like this. Eternally beautiful and youthful and deadly.
Nine years into his thirteen year sleep, Jiang Jianmin knew he would not live the four years until Wei Ying was due to wake. It was to fall onto Fengmian to take his place when the time came.
At that time there was a whole organization behind Wei Ying’s guardianship, a small, top-secret branch of the military that called themselves ‘Red Shield’. Fengian was introduced to them not long after, these people who were to be his colleagues in this new venture. Some, like his father, were soldiers who’d fought alongside Wei Ying in the war. But others were not. He met with a couple, Lan Wentian and Lan Yiqiao, who were doctors charged with monitoring Wei Ying’s unique health needs. There were also several government bureaucrats who spoke of their charge like an object rather than a person, like he was merely a weapon with as much value as a particularly good gun or a bomb. These ones were especially impatient, eagerly awaiting the time that Wei Ying would awaken and be of use to them once more.
In the middle of a dormant period as they were, there wasn’t much that he was expected to do. Fengmian’s life didn’t change, he worked the same job he always had, continued building his company. His father moved into hospice care and his mother out of the family home, officially handing the property over to him and Ziyuan. Yanli was born and became the centre of their world. Every once and a while Fengmian would visit the cemetery, to sit for a while beside the coffin that held a ticking time-bomb. Wondering what to expect when the clock struck zero.
As he watched his daughter grow, the idea grew more and more terrifying. His father passed away without giving him many details of what Wei Ying’s emergence would entail. The other members of Red Shield were equally as vague. But they all maintained one certainty - that the boy was dangerous. Fengmian looked at his precious little girl and feared for her.
He visited Wei Ying’s tomb a few months before the day he was supposed to wake. Yanli had just turned three, and Ziyuan had just discovered that she was pregnant again. After his wife had gone to bed Fengmian knocked back a handful of beers, fetched the handgun his father had bequeathed to him the same day he bequeathed him Wei Ying, and then walked to the cemetery alone. It was the middle of the night and the moon was high. He opened the casket with the intention of killing Wei Ying and freeing himself and his family of this burden he’d never asked for.
But. Looking down at the boy, unchanged from the day he first lay eyes on him, he couldn’t pull the trigger. To murder a man sleeping, no matter how allegedly evil and dangerous he may be, was not an act he could bring himself to do. He could tell himself that it was to protect Yanli, and his unborn child, but could he go on to look them in the eyes after doing such a thing?
Evidently the answer was no. He returned home and locked the gun back up with trembling hands.
Wei Ying was expected to wake on the night of the full moon festival of 1988. For the event, the members of Red Shield came together for the first time since Fengmian joined the group. The gathering felt like something out of a fantasy, a dozen strangers assembled in a cemetery on this auspicious night, under the light of the fat harvest moon. There was a man there who Fengmian had never met but had heard whispers of, a man known by the moniker Hanguang-Jun who appeared at Wei Ying’s side during the time he was awake and disappeared when he slumbered. He did not speak to anyone, eyes only for the coffin where Wei Ying would soon emerge, and in return they all gave him a wide berth. They waited.
And waited.
Wei Ying did not awaken. Dawn bloomed on the horizon and they were at a loss as to what to do. Some members were angry; this was something they’d been waiting a long time for. Although the Cold War was ramping down, the world was still teetering. With the volatile international stage as well as internal strife within the country, the government was keen to have such an asset back in their arsenal. Lan Yiqiao performed an examination and declared Wei Ying’s state to be completely unchanged. They attempted some exercises to see if he could be coaxed to consciousness all to no avail.
The atmosphere - already tense - grows increasingly so when some of the members begin to discuss the merits of transporting Wei Ying to a laboratory to see if shock therapies might be productive. At this Hanguang-Jun leaves his vigil at Wei Ying’s side for the first time, turning to the members in question with an absolutely terrifying aura and a hand on the sword that he wore on his hip. Lan Yiqiao had calmed everyone down, insisting as the head of Wei Ying’s medical care that such things would not work. They needed to be patient, she insisted. It appeared the cycle had been disrupted, but they had to assume that he would wake eventually.
So they were patient, some more than others. While part of Fengmian was relieved, the stress only built as time passed. On the full moon each month they gathered again, hoping that this would be the one Wei Ying finally graced them with his presence. Every month he slumbered on. Gradually the attendance dropped off, until it was only Fengmian, the Lans, and Hanguang-Jun who showed up for their monthly visits. A year in, Lan Yiqiao told them that with no changes in his status, they had to prepare for the chance that Wei Ying may never wake up again.
Fengmian had watched Hanguang-Jun’s face, but found no reaction. He did his best to follow suit, keeping his expression neutral while inside hope bloomed. That he would never have to face the monster that slumbered. They parted ways that night, and it was decided soon after that Red Shield was to be indefinitely disbanded. Jiang Fengmian would continue to check in on Wei Ying on a semi-regular basis, but it was now assumed that he would remain dormant.
And for a long time he did. Another decade passed peacefully. Fengmian didn't hear from Red Shield except for an annual report, nearly identical each time, no changes except for the occasional announcement of a member retiring and introducing their replacement. It became a formality, the longer Wei Ying slept the more it all just faded into the background.
Fengmian still went to the shrine every full moon festival, after he finished celebrating with his family he would excuse himself to make the lonely pilgrimage. Where he used to dread the trip, full of anxiety that this would be the night it happened, he found himself now almost looking forward to it. He gathered a small parcel of leftover cakes and fruit, some incense and candles, and made his way to Wei Ying’s remote resting place to spend an hour or so. He’d come to regard his strange charge similar to how he thought of the other ancestors in the cemetery. Somebody who’d lived a life who no longer walked among them, but who deserved to be remembered nonetheless.
The night of the full moon festival in 2005 had started like all the others. And then Wei Ying woke up.
It was like something out of a horror film, first the rattling of the chain, then the grinding of stone against stone as something pounded on the underside of the coffin lid. Fengmian was shocked into inaction, falling to the stone floor in terror. He was utterly alone in the middle of the forest, and he’d stopped bringing the handgun years ago.
As it turned out, the chain was no match for the supernatural strength of the one it was meant to contain, and with a clatter it broke and the lid was thrown off. Wei Ying burst forth, white robes billowing around him, long black hair hanging around his twisted face looking all the world like a vengeful poltergeist. He’d crouched on top of his own coffin and fixed his black eyes on Fengmian, who braced himself for the end.
The end did not come. After the initial burst of energy it became clear that Wei Ying was in no state to do him harm. He staggered, sagging to the ground with a pitiful whimper. He blinked rapidly, confused and flinching away from even the dim light of the candles. When Fengmian gathered his nerve enough to approach he raised his skinny arms in front of his face with a wordless moan of fright. Far from the lethal killer from the stories, the real thing was a frightened child. Disoriented to the point where he was unable to answer any of the questions Fengmian asked, or vocalize anything at all.
All Fengmian could think to do was bundle him up, draping his jacket over the thin white robes, and coax him into the back seat of his car. Wei Ying had been easily won over with the cakes, enthusiastically scarfing down all four that he’d brought and moving on to the madarin oranges that Fengmian peeled and sectioned off for him. Thankfully Lan Xichen - the son of Lan Yiqiao and Lan Wentian who’d retired years ago - had picked up his call and agreed to meet at his clinic.
And now a year later Fengmian stands in the same place, with the same boy who in such a short span had made a home for himself in their family. Who absorbs all of this information without batting an eye.
Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, has been growing steadily red in the face through the entire story. As soon as Fengmian falls silent, he bursts with built-up incredulity, “What the fuck! You’ve been part of some secret society all this time and never told us? You have a gun? Does mom know? Did nǎinai? You were going to kill Wei Ying?”
And this is what Fengmian had signed up for, agreeing to bring Jiang Cheng along. He’d hoped to spare his son all of the stress and secrecy that his own father had passed to him, but here they are. “Your mother knows as much as she cares to. I doubt your grandmother did, and she would not have wanted to. Son, this world is dangerous, I did warn you. A gun is harmless compared to the things that are out there, as you experienced first hand just the other night. I could not have killed Wei Ying that night, even if I’d followed through.”
“But! You!” Jiang Cheng spins to look at Wei Ying, as if hoping the boy takes offense on his own behalf. Honestly, part of Fengmian wants him to as well. But he’s just staring at the ground, assumedly lost in contemplation. “Oi!” Jiang Cheng snaps at him, reaching out to punch his shoulder before freezing, realizing what he’s just done.
Wei Ying looks up at last, glancing at the place Jiang Cheng’s knuckles press against his arm. “I ah...wow?” He comments weakly.
“Wow? Wow ?” Jiang Cheng scowls. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I mean no but-” Wei Ying shrugs. “I don’t really know what to say to be honest. I don’t remember any of that. Hey, are you sure you want to bully me? I’m an evil war criminal as it turns out hahaha…”
“A-Ying-” Fengmian starts, heart aching. But Jiang Cheng beats him to it with probably a hundred percent more efficiency.
“Shut the fuck up! You aren’t evil! Anyone who thinks that you are just has to see you cry watching Extreme Home Makeover and they’d see how wrong they are.”
“Oh.” Wei Ying looks down again, rubbing his shoulder absently. “Thanks.”
Jiang Cheng turns to look at Fengmian, “Right? There has to be some mistake dad, there’s no way Wei Ying did the things they say he did.”
Fengmian shakes his head helplessly under the weight of his son’s expectant gaze, “A-Cheng…I can’t. There’s a lot of history here and it’s not all that black and white.”
“I’m pretty sure I did it.” Wei Ying offers quietly. “I truly don’t remember, but based on what Wangji told me I get the impression that I’ve done some messed up stuff. Oh,” he blinks “That’s how you know who Wangji is. You called him Hanguag-Jun at the park.”
Fengmian nods a confirmation, “I don’t know much about him beyond the fact that he’s been arounds as long as you have, but he doesn’t seem to need to sleep like you do.”
“He’s not part of Red Shield?”
“Not officially. He was never present at any meetings, as far back as the records I’ve seen indicate he’s only ever made contact when you’re awake. We don’t know where he goes when you aren’t.”
“Are you going to tell them that I know now?”
And that is the question isn’t it. “No.” Fengmian answers, taking even himself by surprise at the certainty of his response. “You haven’t remembered anything. Until that happens it’s none of their business. Nothing needs to change.”
Wei Ying’s face crumples a little and it seems like he’s close to crying again. The sight solidifies the decision in Fengmian’s heart. He wants to protect this boy from anyone who would use him like they did before. “I’ll need to talk to Dr Lan if you still want to stop the treatments. I believe I can persuade him to keep it secret for now. But A-Ying, after hearing all of this I need to ask you again if you’re sure about remembering. Now you know how many people are waiting for the chance to snatch you up. If you keep suppressing your powers they don’t have any use for you, but if they come back they’ll expect you to go right back to what you were before.”
“But we won’t let them!” Jiang Cheng jumps back in, “You didn’t have us before. A family to fight for you. They can’t just make you work for them if you don’t want to.”
He clearly still doesn’t quite grasp the enormity of the situation, but Fengmian is done fighting about it. Wei Ying is smiling wetly at Jiang Cheng and nodding along. “Alright, I’ll talk to Dr Lan on monday. You can still change your mind any time, A-Ying.”
“He won’t!” Jiang Cheng snaps.
“I won’t.” Wei Ying says more softly.
Such strong, beautiful, foolish children he has. They have no clue what they’ve gotten themselves into.