Chapter Text
"Hong-ge, ah, Hong-ge, did you ever imagine this would be your life?" Wei Wuxian asked Luo Qingyang's husband. "I surely didn't."
They were sitting comfortably on a log, watching as Lan Wangji and Luo Qingyang guided Xiao Mianmian—who was, in truth, not so small these days—through a series of beginner sword forms. Wen style, Wei Wuxian was amused to note, remembering another child with another toy sword, a lifetime ago. Not a bad choice for a rogue cultivator, with its aggressive attacks and firm, straightforward footwork, nor one too likely to be recognized out here away from any of the great sects. Sizhui and Wen Ning had been working to preserve some of their ancestral traditions, a small project that had been permitted space in the Lan library by Lan Xichen with a quiet, "Do not forget the grace of the forefathers." A bit of a surprising choice for Luo Qingyang to teach her daughter, admittedly, but Wei Wuxian supposed the Jin style she'd learned came with its own complicated memories. He liked the idea of the Wen legacy representing something different, in this small way. A new beginning.
His companion gave him an odd look. "You really don't recognize me, do you?" he asked.
Wei Wuxian laughed. "Hong-ge, I know my memory for faces is bad, but I do know where I am and who I'm with. How could I not know my old friend Mianmian's beloved husband, eh?" It had not been until their second visit to the happy family that Wei Wuxian had even learned what the man was called, and asking for his name had earned Wei Wuxian far more chuckles than he personally thought the oversight deserved. They'd been a little busy, the first time, for such social niceties!
A-Hong smiled and shook his head. "From before, I mean. I didn't realize I'd changed so much." He reached up to undo his topknot, shaking his hair out and tying it back with the lower half down. He rolled his shoulders and straightened into a different posture, a more proud one. "Is this enough, or do I need to be wearing red, too?" he asked, voice warm with wry amusement, and suddenly Wei Wuxian saw it.
"WEN Q—" he started to yell, then remembered himself, and dropped his voice into a hiss. "Wen Qing??? You're alive??" He glanced over at where the sword lesson had abruptly stopped when he shouted and asked hurriedly, "Do they know?"
"Oh my god, did he finally figure it out?" cackled Luo Qingyang. "I'm going to owe Ning-didi; I was so sure we'd have to tell him."
Wen Qing laughed, rocking a hand side to side. "Sort of? He needed some pretty significant prompting, so I'm not sure who wins."
"You were betting on me?" Wei Wuxian asked, shock giving way to that potent mixture of joy and grief he'd been blessed to feel more times in this new life than he could ever deserve. "I can't believe none of you told me! Not even my sweet Wen Ning! Such deception, Wen Qing, how could—wait, Wen Qing or Hong-ge, which do you prefer?" he asked, then the name hit him. "Wait, 阿红? Really?"
"It didn't have to be particularly clever," his friend said, smiling, "just different. After all, everyone in the cultivation world knows the Wens were all killed." The other three drew near, and Luo Qingyang wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. He leaned into the embrace. "They're both me. Wen Qing, A-Hong—"
"Laogong," Luo Qingyang cut in with a teasing grin.
"Diedie!" added Mianmian, jumping into Wen Qing’s lap. Wen Qing squeezed her tight and tilted his head back to kiss his wife under her chin.
"Those might be my favorite," he admitted.
"Well, I can't exactly call you either of those," Wei Wuxian said with a chuckle at the sweet scene they made. "Though I do think I've just realized why Jiang Cheng makes the face he does every time I call Lan Zhan that way." Lan Wangji and Wen Qing snorted, almost in unison. "I'm really glad you're alive, Wen Qing," Wei Wuxian said softly. "I missed you."
Wen Qing leaned forward and poked him in that place above the armpit that made his whole arm go numb, just the way he used to in the Burial Mounds, and Wei Wuxian didn't know whether to protest, or laugh, or cry. "Come visit us more then," Wen Qing teased. "I've been right here."
"Wait, yeah," Wei Wuxian asked, "how did you escape after they captured you two at Jinlintai?"
Wen Qing looked up and exchanged a grin with Luo Qingyang. "Now that," he said proudly, "is a thrilling tale best told by my gorgeous and dashing wife."
"Buy me dinner, and I'll tell you the whole thing," Luo Qingyang said, jerking her chin at Lan Wangji standing behind Wei Wuxian. "Your husband owes me, anyway."
Wei Wuxian turned with an outraged squawk to catch Lan Wangji bowing his head, ears pink. "Lan, Zhan, you bet against me too??"