Chapter Text
Upon their first meeting—the first day of lectures—they totally do not hit it off.
Lan Wangji wears an indecipherable mask for a face, microexpressions speaking volumes if you have spoken the poetic language of Lan Wangji your entire life, otherwise silent if you are meeting him for the first, second, third, or twelfth time. He is, and always has been, dedicated to learning. He strives to excel to not disappoint his family. In his natural form, he demonstrates thoughtfulness, devotion, and is the exemplar of a perfect student.
Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, is facially and bodily expressive. From head to toe, his motions are like waves washing up on the shore, teasing in short back-and-forth rhythmic strides from one world to the other with no intention to settle. Being the center of attention drives his self-motivation to be his most irritating self. Lan Wangji crashes it.
And on a whim, Wei Wuxian decides it would be fun to wreak havoc on Lan Wangji—“that know-it-all.” So, he goes out of his way to attract Lan Wangji’s attention in any way he can. With his appearance, usually disheveled but sufficient; his voice, consistently loud and echoing; his crafts, always distracting and perfectly Lan Wangji-tailored.
The Headmaster cannot say more than one word at a time without stopping to yell at Wei Wuxian for something he is doing which does not comply with a set of unwritten rules that Wei Wuxian decides he will not follow until he is handed a scribed book.
By the seventh day, the Headmaster decides he has had enough.
As a paper butterfly zooms across the room, one of Wei Wuxian’s specialties, the Headmaster slams his hand down on the table. “Stand!” he commands, a crack in his voice before it gives out.
Wei Wuxian hears it, for some uncertain reason fears it, and does as he is told: He rises to his feet without delay, the smirk on his face slowly fading.
The Headmaster, “Wei Wuxian. Are you here to study like everyone else or to cause me grief?”
Wei Wuxian has to make a quick decision: Does he say what he feels or what he thinks the Headmaster wants to hear?
I suppose I should leave here alive, he reasons with himself, knowing that should he say anything along the lines of “cause you grief,” it’ll be only his head returning home. “Headmaster, of course I am here to study. What else would I be here for?”
“Do you see any other students acting the way you are?”
Wei Wuxian scans the room feigning deep reflection, eyes fixing themselves on Lan Wangji.
Definitely not, he thinks before looking away and not answering the question.
“Exactly. If you want to stay here and study, set yourself straight. There are plenty of great students you can use as a model if you are unsure of how to be a better student yourself.” A pause. “Lan Wangji.”
At the crisp sound of his name, Lan Wangji stands immediately and bows, voice low when he utters, “Headmaster.”
Wei Wuxian scoffs and mumbles under his breath, “What a bother.”
“Take a good look, Wei Wuxian. To study here at Cloud Recesses, you must be as studious, as committed, as sincere as Lan Wangji to succeed.”
Everyone in the room turns to observe Lan Wangji.
Aside from his intelligence, evidenced by his ability to answer questions without hesitance, Lan Wangji’s face bears features fairer than fair. Everyone has long noticed his elegance and beauty. Whenever he walks past students of his same cohort, it’s as though a god is descending amongst them. Whether it be during mealtimes or free time, male and female students alike whisper within their small cliques about how great it would be to be friends (or more) with Lan Wangji.
Seven days of admiring, but not a single person has been able to work up the courage to make a move. Who could pierce through such a cold, stone-like exterior? Who would dare?
Wei Wuxian finally breaks the quietude with a giggle. “Oh, if only we could all be like Lan Wangji.”
This earns him a hard glare through his skull, but Wei Wuxian takes it as a victory. At least Lan Wangji has finally noticed him.
Three days later, Wei Wuxian sees Lan Wangji inside the Library Pavilion as he is passing by with his older sister Jiang Yanli and younger brother Jiang Wanyin (more commonly referred to as Jiang Cheng).
It’s not like he is actively seeking Lan Wangji. The doors just happen to be open, and he just happens to be ambling along in a rush to get to the meal hall for lunch.
Wei Wuxian stops only for a second as he notices Lan Wangji move a strand of hair out of his face while simultaneously turning a page in his book. He feels something stir frantically inside of him. It’s not exactly envy nor is it jealousy and definitely not bitterness. But he doesn’t want to admit it might be something a bit more positive than everything he has just worked through in his brain.
A second transforms into a minute, and a minute would extend longer if not for Jiang Yanli quietly calling Wei Wuxian back in her sweet tone of voice, “A-Xian, what is the matter?”
Jiang Cheng takes the initiative to trace Wei Wuxian’s eyes over to the person sitting alone in the Library Pavilion, probably unaware that Wei Wuxian breathes the same air as he does (or very aware and intends to ignore him altogether until the end of the year). He smirks as if he knows anything. Jiang Cheng whispers into his ear, “Thinking of ways to torment him again?”
Wei Wuxian taps his index finger against his chin in a manner that would fool someone, make them think that he is being a wholesome and considerate person when really, it’s the face of someone scheming. “Maybe. Maybe not,” he says cryptically and begins walking again, this time slower than last.
He brews and boils, searching himself for some truth while he and his siblings enter the meal hall and greet the chefs who are serving some of the finest cuisine here at Cloud Recesses. While he waits in line, he continues to ponder if he is thinking about how to catch Lan Wangji’s attention next, or the pang he felt in his heart while watching the wind ripple itself through Lan Wangji’s hair. He toys around with this idea and that notion, makes some rather compelling arguments for an unknown cause, and when he finally plops down at a table, Jiang Cheng in tow, he is suddenly very aware of the thoughts in his head.
- - -
Lan Wangji knows he doesn’t have to turn in this assignment for another five days, but he has always been the type of person to work in advance and keep miles ahead. He doesn’t believe in breaks, through no fault of his own. Or so he claims. It is a mere habit he has developed since he was a child, bestowed upon him by his father and mother, neither of whom are too fond of putting a gap of time in between tasks, even to this day.
It’s all a bit foolish, the way he can sit and work on one thing after another until the sun sets and his brain is fried in seven different ways, but Lan Wangji cannot break his habit. Sometimes, he thinks this stubbornly unhealthy method of doing things is embedded in his genetic makeup, which wouldn’t shock him too much. Lans are imperfect, too.
But, despite the flaws humans are granted in life—you know, the ones other humans can’t judge you for because they’re quite common—Lan Wangji admits to his family’s perfection. He takes this time to remember he comes from a family of the brightest, most well-known scholars: the founders of Cloud Recesses themselves. Despite what has been referred to as self-destruction, all his ancestors, bleeding down the family tree into his immediate branch, have been exceptionally skilled in their academics. Lan Wangji doesn’t know if he can live up to such a high standard, but he has been tirelessly training to become a scholar himself, to trail on the same path of merit and respect.
Albeit unsaid, the pressure is on him to be just as successful as his older brother, Lan Xichen.
Lan Xichen is the youngest head scholar to lecture at Cloud Recesses to date. He has a gentle countenance about him which does well to make him look younger than his actual age. Some people often mistaken him for Lan Wangji despite the blatant contrast in features. Other people can tell this apart based on approachable-ness, whatever that means.
His studies were accelerated in his third year of study due to his high levels of academic achievement. He was always exceeding expectations, but Lan Xichen was not an obsequious person, out to please his lecturers with his excellence. He did everything he did because he genuinely loved it. Lan Xichen was able to shave two years off his total plan of study by mentoring younger students, as well. He aided their studies, preparing them for their comprehensive final examinations, proving his skills to the Headmaster and senior head scholars.
Now, Lan Xichen is a name everyone knows, a face everyone admires, a presence everyone craves.
He is the son his parents are most proud of, and for good reason. He is the bar set above everyone’s head, the standard of what is acceptable and nothing less. He is the model that Lan Wangji must follow.
Despite the condescending remarks and occasionally harsh comparisons that his parents claim are not to drag Lan Wangji down but to help his focus, there has never been any competition between the two brothers themselves, implicit or explicit.
Lan Wangji truly admires no one more than Lan Xichen and aspires to be like him, not for the sake of upholding the family name but for his own good. His brother is everything he has dreamed to be, and he knows someday, he will earn the same honors.
As he reads the book in front of him, he tells himself Lan Xichen would be proud to see him working this hard. He is doing this so he can be half the man his brother is. Lan Wangji upholds an ongoing narrative to remind himself of why he studies, why he lets his parents’ pressure get to him for a flash of incentive and then carries on.
Today, as usual, people pass by the Library Pavilion in a rush to get here or there, meet up with friends, eat a meal. Everyday, it is the same wave of students, and Lan Wangji knows so because they never stop staring. He doesn’t have to pay much attention to know everyone’s attention is on him no matter where he is or goes. It’s annoying at best, but luckily, Lan Wangji has taken the last ten days to train himself to be immune to their chatter.
Only today does Lan Wangji happen to catch something—a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of his eye.
He knows better than to lift his gaze, but he has already come to recognize that vexing presence apart from everyone else. It centralizes the way a kick to the stomach might.
Wei Wuxian is peering in from outside the Library Pavilion doors with his two siblings—Lan Wangji doesn’t know much about Wei Wuxian but he knows this much—but why are they there?
Do they not have anything better to do?
Lan Wangji convinces himself to remain composed, swiping a loose thread of hair swinging in front of his face out of the way while thumbing the page of his book to the next. Maybe if he imagines he’s the only person who exists in the world, a magic poof! of sparkles will light up in front of him and isolate him from everyone else.
But it takes a while for Lan Wangji to regain his solitude. He sighs; he thinks it’s in relief.
Something about being watched makes him anxious. Hungry eyes observing his every move, waiting to see if he’ll shuffle or glide or sway, have always made his stomach flip and twirl. It used to just be his parents, and then his uncle, and for a while, it was his brother. Now, every corner he turns unveils yet another person who can’t wait for his next action.
As he wills himself to resume his reading, Lan Wangji frowns, forehead creasing deeply. His eyes flicker for a moment before he notices he no longer remembers this chapter, this page, this paragraph, not even this sentence.
“What just happened?” he mutters to himself, for he has never lost his place in studying before.
Lan Wangji shakes his head, concluding he is tired. So, instead of beating himself over the head with the book, he spends some time trying to determine if he’s always been this nervous of a person or if it’s the new studying term bringing out his worst.
If he is actually anxious or just irritated with the students’ collective inability to leave him alone.
If there is uneasiness in his heart when anyone watches him, or just Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian makes the conscious decision to not do his assignment, assuring himself that whatever repercussions come with this long, hard verdict will be no more than a slap on the wrist.
He has never possessed much of an interest in historical figures, transcriptions of early texts and symbols, ancient principles, proper lifestyles, and whatever else the Headmaster has broken down and instructed them to read about.
Since childhood, he has preferred more sensitive tellings, such as art, music, prose, and poetry. Those are topics that remain a neutral ground and are represented fairly for what they are. There is no right or wrong, black or white, good or bad, whereas the lectures about this philosopher and that political conviction are all rooted in a bias of their own to some degree or another. Wei Wuxian thinks his time could be better spent.
Master Jiang—Wei Wuxian’s adoptive father and Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng’s biological father—has always encouraged him to hold onto his love for the arts.
“Keep whatever makes you happy in your heart. No matter what, do not let anyone take it away,” he would say.
He has done nothing but support Wei Wuxian’s pursuit for creativity, despite his foundation in high academics.
Madam Yu—the master’s wife and mother to Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng—on the other hand, doesn’t approve of anything he does. She barely approves of his existence, but they’re still making progress. Her personality is precise. It’s been that way for as long as Wei Wuxian can remember, and from what his sister tells him, years before at the very least. She is very by the book, driven by structure and order, which is how she maintains her household.
That’s why when Wei Wuxian entered their lives all those years ago, she was the first to make a fuss. And it wasn’t just the “What do you mean you have had all day to tidy up the pier yet you have not moved from where I last left you this morning?” kind of fuss she still enacts whenever the maidens are too busy attending to Master Jiang’s matters instead of her petty chores.
She and Master Jiang argued almost every day with words so dirty that the maidens would scrub the walls and floors twice just to ensure everything was truly clean. She persistently insisted their home had no space for a third child, despite the fact they owned an entire villa in Yunmeng and had servants on top of servants living with them, each owning a suite fully equipped with at least a bed and clothes.
Master Jiang urged her to see that Wei Wuxian was alone in the world without a family and called upon her motherly instincts to shove her pride somewhere they’d never see again. Madam Yu was convinced Master Jiang had an ulterior motive, once calling him “nothing more than the master of polygamy, I am sure.” She had accused him on multiple accounts of being in love with Wei Wuxian’s mother, even having an affair, questioning if Wei Wuxian was his illegitimate child.
Every day was a storm, with Master Jiang and Madam Yu alternating roles as thunder and lightning versus the rain itself.
Wei Wuxian still doesn’t know when it began to happen, but eventually, the yelling trotted down until it stopped altogether. He no longer had to cover his ears while crossing Lotus Pier’s courtyard to see Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng for a playdate. He grew comfortable enough to round corners without his hands defensively gripping his shirt just in case Madam Yu was waiting on the other side with a reason to make him regret not staying hidden behind Uncle He’s noodle stand. Things were quiet, for better or for worse.
Sometimes, if he is in enough of a mood to stumble upon those memories when Lotus Pier was nothing but a magnet for negative energy, Wei Wuxian tries his best to understand her heart and intent. Wei Wuxian has always had a gift for reading people, and Madam Yu is not exactly unsusceptible to said gift. From the time he spends undoing the puzzle that she is, he knows for certain she didn’t hate him at the time, per se, but was afraid of the chaos a third child would thrust upon her already peaceful family. It makes sense, truly, but only if you don’t consider the extraneous comments about Wei Wuxian’s mother.
This is why although she ignored him for thirteen long months, Wei Wuxian never held a grudge against her. No matter how much he longed for a mother’s love, at least he had enough pieces of a family to put together, to ease the pain and chase away the nightmares. That was adequate for him.
Today, Wei Wuxian rolls out of bed with Master Jiang’s words tickling his ears. Minimum effort and exploration outside of academics make him happy, so he keeps them close to his heart and makes them his day’s goals.
He is rather groggy, but he browses the room efficiently enough to see Jiang Cheng still in bed. He sits for a minute or two in quiet scrutiny of how he will accomplish his goals and mentally readies himself for the day. Physical preparation does, unfortunately, seize him next. He lugs his feet across the room and washes his face, brushes his teeth, and ties his hair, which he had let down for the night after the onset of a headache.
By the time he finishes, Jiang Cheng is worming his way out from under his covers, off the edge of the bed, and stumbling with all the grace of a toddler learning to walk to the washroom. Wei Wuxian chuckles while shaking his head, appalled.
How can someone so uptight wake up in such a disorderly fashion and look like a primary level student all the while? Wei Wuxian has wondered this for some time about Jiang Cheng, along with other curiosities he deems better left unexplored. For now.
As Wei Wuxian slips into one of his clean, comfortable white robes, a blinding image flashes before his eyes, causing him to pause mid-way and squint into the distance.
Long, slim fingers tucking hair away, white sleeves flowing as a slight spring breeze sneaks through the cracks and crevices of a robe. Cold eyes but a warm gaze, a serious expression filled with passion, lips in an unchanging position yet constantly moving along with his text. All of which can only be summed up with one word: beautiful.
“And when he died, all his followers decided to spread his good word to the world,” the Headmaster declares in a set-in-stone, this-is-what-I-say-and-there’s-no-more-to-the-story way that makes Wei Wuxian shake his head. The Headmaster sets down the scroll in his hands and looks up at the students. He nods in approval, a small smile drawn on his face. “That is the end of today’s lecture. Leave your assignments on your tables and enjoy the rest of your day. Remember: Strive to be the greatest you can be, in everything you do.”
Everyone stands in unison, bows, and waits for the Headmaster to exit the hall before they straighten their backs and begin clearing out, too. Groups pile in a clamor to compare assignments one last time, as though there is anything they can do about it anymore. When Wei Wuxian sees this, he snickers. He is glad he has nothing to contribute.
Turning around, he notices Jiang Cheng laying out his paper. He even smooths it over a few times, hands heavy on his markings, making the utterly furious perfectionist in him stand out more. Jiang Cheng has been this way since Wei Wuxian can remember. Everything in his life is well-organized, from his bedroom to his studies to the way he eats.
This is why Wei Wuxian can’t comprehend Jiang Cheng’s sleeping habits. They should match his conscious personality, the one that sometimes makes Wei Wuxian want to pull all his hair out just so he can experience something less painful than Jiang Cheng’s way of doing things. But, the way Jiang Cheng sleeps—on his stomach, hair in disarray, not to mention the way he wakes up in the morning with the pout that secures his position as the youngest child in the Jiang family—does not represent him fairly.
Wei Wuxian can’t help but think this is the result of growing up under Madam Yu’s careful watch. Every move he makes, every word he says, every breath he takes is dictated by her. His slumber is probably the only time Madam Yu cannot control Jiang Cheng, hence why he takes advantage of it to be as chaotic as possible. The more Wei Wuxian thinks about it, the sadder it becomes.
Jiang Cheng finishes his obsessive caressing just in time for Wei Wuxian to snap out of his musings.
Wei Wuxian greets him with a smirk, “Done caring for your baby?”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, his signature move, and retaliates, “Quiet! This is the first assignment of the term. It has to be flawless.”
“I do not think anyone cares that much.”
Just as Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to respond, a set of soft footsteps walk down the aisle. Both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng raise their eyes to see Lan Wangji floating graciously past them, robes riding the wind in tow. Once he is out of their sights, Jiang Cheng whispers, “I bet he does. Maybe even more.”
The two brothers share a laugh, Wei Wuxian throwing his arm over Jiang Cheng’s shoulders as they head back to their room.
Wei Wuxian titters, “You are right. And you know what is crazy about that? Before we met Lan Wangji, I did not think anyone cared more about their studies than you.”
Jiang Cheng is too serious when he asks, “I am not at that level, am I?”
Wei Wuxian flashes a pained smile, patting Jiang Cheng’s shoulder apologetically, “Honestly, you are getting there.” He snickers and ignores the look of betrayal on his brother’s face.
A few steps more, sighs are heard rippling through Cloud Recesses.
Then, gruff voices.
“What makes you think you are better than any of us? We study just as hard, but you get favored?”
“I am starting to see how favoritism works when you have money.”
“Forget money! When you study under your own family, you can cheat your way into anything!”
They come to an abrupt halt where the two paths keeping the lecture hall separate from the sleeping cabins meet. There, Lan Wangji is standing before three different males, head down, taking the blades of their verbal abuse like it is nothing. Like he is nothing. He doesn’t even flinch through their continued slander of labeling him worthless, a piece of shit, privileged, and the list doesn’t stop.
For whatever reason, Wei Wuxian’s jaw tenses. His fist clenches. His heart wrenches. He forgets that he’s heard worse things, felt stronger, more poisonous venom spewed at him. Before Jiang Cheng can stop him, Wei Wuxian has glided toward Lan Wangji, standing between him and the others, a smirk of disgust on his face as he analyzes the “high and mighty” faces of the cretins.
Each male is dressed in their own attire—one in red, one in gold, one white. Aside from this, none of them have memorable facial features. Only sharp expressions, but still as unremarkable as he guesses their names may be, which Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he will take the time to learn right now.
“You.” He points his finger at all three of them, evoking rash and angered reactions. Just what he wants. Wei Wuxian continues, “You are dressed so well, clearly faces of wealth. I can see you come from good families, where you eat warm meals prepared by a loving mother who only wanted you to become kind people.”
The male in red scoffs, “Are you that orphan Wei Wuxian who was almost kicked out of Cloud Recesses?”
Wei Wuxian remains collected, nodding, “Yes. As a matter of fact, I am.”
A sound comes from Jiang Cheng’s throat, like he is ready to scream and tear someone’s head off simultaneously, but Wei Wuxian raises a restraining hand. Jiang Cheng halts, watching with keen eyes.
Wei Wuxian chimes back into the conversation, “What is it to you?”
The male in gold scoffs, “You should mind your own business if you know what is good for you.”
The male in white snorts, “And have some respect when speaking to people of a higher class than you.”
These words don’t faze Wei Wuxian. He just continues to bob his head, taking their remarks in his stride as though to say, “Oh, I see your point, please continue.”
The three simpletons recycle their order of speaking:
“It makes me uneasy knowing things like you think they can just talk to people like us as you please.”
“How can something like you study at Cloud Recesses with the likes of us? What is the world coming to?”
“Back away, and return to wherever you came from! This world can go on without you!”
They finish quietly, seemingly taken aback by Wei Wuxian’s poised behavior and lack of reaction to anything they’ve just slung his way. Wei Wuxian looks up, ever so dignified, “Is that all?” He hears Lan Wangji shift from behind him, but he doesn’t do or say anything else. Good. He proceeds to sigh a sarcastic but sympathetic sigh. “How is this possible? Oh my. Disappointing.”
The male in red appears, who appears to be the “leader” of this pathetic group, answers first in a fit of rage, “What can be more disappointing than you?”
“Perhaps I am a disappointment. But you see, I have no mother. I was not raised with much love or affection. Yet, it seems to me the ones lacking in manners are you three, who have supposedly been raised by the hands of a woman?” Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue and shakes his finger. “Not possible. You must have been raised by dogs.”
“You—!”
“No, that is an insult to dogs. They know their place in the world, they respect others, can be trained to listen and be loyal. You three—I apologize, the world has failed you.”
“WEI WUXIAN!”
With this, Wei Wuxian’s tone hardens, and his anger is no longer shielded by the thick armor of his mockery. “You speak about being of a higher class, but are you even the dirt which touches Lan Wangji’s feet? Who are you to attack him any way you please? Just because he is naturally gifted, you think you can accuse him of anything you wish?”
No more words come from the other three.
“What? Have you bitten your tongues and swallowed them? It would be better to spit them out if you are not yet ready to die of the poison.”
Resentfully, the three males retreat from the scene, having been rendered completely speechless by Wei Wuxian. There is scorn in the way they trip over one another, turning back to stare Wei Wuxian down and forward again to ensure they don’t fall off the steps, not that it would be a great loss. It isn’t until they’re out of sight that Wei Wuxian turns around to Lan Wangji.
He softens his voice, “Are you—” Lan Wangji’s eyes are still diverted to the ground when he bows, steps to the side of Wei Wuxian, and walks away without a word. This causes Wei Wuxian to frown heavily, furrowing his brows in a panic. He pivots on his heel to catch Lan Wangji’s attention before he has gotten too far. “Eh, Lan Wangji!”
They both freeze. Wei Wuxian runs to Lan Wangji as the latter turns his head slowly to meet Wei Wuxian’s face. Jiang Cheng is mainly a bystander now, forgotten in Wei Wuxian’s mind and likely never having had a place in Lan Wangji’s in the first place.
“Lan Wangji, you may be someone of few words, but you should not let others speak to you that way!”
Lan Wangji answers slowly, almost like he can’t believe he is in the same place and time as Wei Wuxian despite having sat in the same lecture with him for hours. “It did not bother me. Why does it bother you?”
Wei Wuxian is taken aback, “I-I was raised better than that. Of course, it would and should bother me.”
“Their words—did they not hurt you?”
Wei Wuxian’s face contorts in a sour but not offensive way, as he is uncertain of what Lan Wangji is inquiring of. Only when Lan Wangji blinks twice to make the situation very clear does Wei Wuxian register the question. By “their words,” he means the names the three dolts called Wei Wuxian.
Orphan.
Low class.
Something like you.
In some other universe or perhaps at an earlier time in his life, Wei Wuxian guarantees they would hurt worse than a gash to the skin. But the Wei Wuxian who lives in this world has grown used to them. He has heard them enough times to make them part of his routine. Whenever someone prompts Wei Wuxian to remember that he lived a poor lifestyle with his biological parents, both of whom are dead, and he is not a true Jiang, it just feels like another history lesson.
They are barely insults.
“No,” Wei Wuxian admits, voice unintentionally small. Then, he reluctantly asks, “Did they hurt you?”
And during his wait to hear anything come from his classmate’s lips, Wei Wuxian sees the way Lan Wangji’s eyes travel from his lips, past the tip of his nose and up its bridge, straight to a place where they can lock gazes briefly. Wei Wuxian doesn’t necessarily hear the words, but he can sense the message: “I would rather not say.” Lan Wangji then bows his head and departs as quickly as his feet carry him, evading the question altogether.
The disappointment sinks in deeper as Lan Wangji’s figure becomes smaller. He is too absorbed to recognize how Jiang Cheng sneaks up behind him, who has been watching Lan Wangji’s every step, and hits his shoulder with the force of a typhoon.
Wei Wuxian grabs his shoulder, uncertain to identify if it is the hit itself or the shock of Jiang Cheng making himself present that hurts. “Jiang Cheng! What was that for? What did I do?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes are narrowed with little tolerance and massive suspicion. “Are you happy now?”
“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian puzzles, the most innocent he has ever been in his teenage life.
“Now, you have made an enemy or two or three. Having fun yet? Living the Cloud Recesses dream?”
Wei Wuxian’s lips are as good as sewn shut, a rare occasion he grants his younger brother, but he is very capable of moving his feet toward their sleeping cabin again and uses that to distract them from further addressing the issue. He knows what he did wrong and can accept that it wasn’t his place to intervene. Jiang Cheng is right: He has forged enemies of his own accord. Though, quite frankly, he feels most confident saying it was, is, and will be worth it in the end, whatever that may be.
By the time they step through the doorframe of their shared room, Jiang Cheng asks him another question. “You will stay out of trouble, right?”
Wei Wuxian grins. “Of course.”
“Wei Ying.” Uh-oh. Jiang Cheng is using his serious tone, which he only ever pulls out when speaking with his parents or about a matter he cares about. Wei Wuxian happily fits into the latter category, but Jiang Cheng also rarely addresses Wei Wuxian by his birth name. That’s when things get scary, and Wei Wuxian knows Jiang Cheng is being his most sincere self. He respects that.
Still, Wei Wuxian cannot help but exhale deeply, “Yes, Jiang Cheng. No trouble.”
“You cannot be everyone’s hero.”
“I know.”
“Think about yourself first.”
“Of course.”
However, it turns out to be an impossible task Jiang Cheng has given him. Not only that night, when he tosses and turns without a wink of sleep within his reach—but over the next few days, too. Wei Wuxian discovers he cannot think of anyone except for Lan Wangji, who clings to his mind like stars to the midnight sky.
Lan Wangji doesn’t hear from the three menaces anymore after the incident with Wei Wuxian. Though he can still feel them glower at him from time to time, especially in passing, they exchange no words, no mutual looks, narrowly existing in the same room when in lectures. This is the way things ought to be, and Lan Wangji cannot achieve a greater level of satisfaction knowing that his ideal is being upheld in some way.
Though he’s been wanting to, Lan Wangji hasn’t had time to sit down and dissect the event since it occurred. It’s been but a hazy thought, lingering in the back of his mind the way something that happened 20 years ago might. However, today, he can’t seem to focus on his readings. The words jumble together to form one large incoherent character, which his brain allows him to believe could be read by the right person. If only said person were there with him.
And under peculiar circumstances, the usually well-ventilated Library Pavilion feels stuffy. Something in the room is clouding over his mind, and he thinks that if he doesn’t leave for a breath of fresh air, he might faint. Pushing his belongings to the side of the table, he stands and exits the Library Pavilion with no plan of where to go next.
After having a staredown with his surroundings, as though they’ve done him wrong, he decides to follow behind a group of students to see where they may lead him on their way to likely perform some mischievous tricks (Lan Wangji will have to remember to check on them when he returns). It’s a fairly long walk before he finds a path that diverts from the main courtyard, and evidently? Fortunately? Thankfully, it also separates him from the obnoxiously loud students. He traces the path, and it’s then when his mind feels free enough to roam back to that day.
The first thing he thinks of is how he should’ve been enraged over the blatant disregard for his integrity as a student, yet he wasn’t moved in the slightest. Lan Wangji knows he cannot control what people say or believe about him. Why should he stress about it? As long as he believes in himself and can stay true to his journey, Lan Wangji needs no other form of validation. People can gossip, they can spread rumors, tell lies, paint any picture they want the world to see, but it will never define him as a person.
If this was four years ago, when he was younger and more emotionally involved, he’s sure things may have turned out differently. However, he isn’t a child anymore. He is now 18 years of age, preparing to become his best self—not to fit others’ image of who he should be.
Lan Wangji then shuffles forward, remembering something else more vividly. The pitter-patter of footsteps, steady breathing, a calm yet scolding voice. The sensation of being enveloped in safe arms and fully equipped with protection and reassurance.
And he is suddenly brought back further than just that day.
He recalls the only person who has ever protected him against others’ words.
Lan Xichen.
His brother has been his savior since they were children, never letting so much as a negative thought from his parents touch Lan Wangji. There were plenty to go around for years, as they failed to see why things that were truly so simple for their bright eldest son turned around to be such a challenge for their seemingly equally bright youngest son. Lan Xichen was always there to remind them that he was seven years older than Lan Wangji. The sheer amount Lan Wangji could do at the age of six, in all actuality, was more than Lan Xichen was ever able to do when he was of that same age.
But their parents were only ever focused on the top tier of the hierarchy within their family. It didn’t matter if Lan Wangji was the very peak in more ways than one. Compared to Lan Xichen, he still had a great gap to fill, and until he filled it, they would never see him as more than their youngest with “a lot of work to do.”
Hence why his permanent residence became Cloud Recesses, rather than their familiar home just a little south of Gusu. Their parents reasoned that if Lan Wangji required supplemental aid to bring him up to speed, who better to send him to than the headmaster of the top scholastic institution in their nation, who also just happens to be his uncle?
So, Lan Xichen too made the executive decision to sit, stand, stay beside his brother and be the loudest beacon of praise to drown out whatever their parents were saying upfront and behind their backs. From then onward, all Lan Wangji was ever blessed with was encouragement, proudness, happiness, and constant company at Cloud Recesses. Even his uncle contributed to it, but he had never been one for praise anyway. That’s how Lan Wangji knew it was genuine when his uncle would compliment him.
This treatment lasted him many years, getting him through his primary levels of education and the front portion of his teenage years.
When they came to the junction where Lan Xichen finished his schooling and was on his way to becoming a head scholar, though, everything changed. Lan Xichen’s life granted him no spare time to spend with his brother anymore, not because he wanted to be distant but because he had to be. Walks by the waterfall, swims in the springs, stargazing, fishing, music—all the things Lan Wangji once did with his hero slipped from his fingers like sand through cracks.
Coping with such strong emotions has never been Lan Wangji’s forte anyhow. As a young child with little to no control of the magnitude of his emotions, the accumulation of events resulted in Lan Wangji being consumed by his loneliness and the idea that everyone he ever loved would someday leave him. He would wind up by himself in the end, he coaxed himself into believing. And where socialization with others was unnecessary when he had Lan Xichen, the only friend he needed, it moved in a retrograde flow, manifesting itself into a foreign concept Lan Wangji swore he knew nothing of.
As he saw Lan Xichen less, spoke to others less, smiled and laughed less, the world closed in on him, and Lan Wangji reciprocated by closing himself off from the world. Knowing Lan Xichen was alive and well couldn’t put him at ease any more than it could convince him he wasn’t alone. For Lan Wangji, it never stopped feeling like he had lost his brother for good, commencing the construction of impenetrable walls to evade the endurance of this pain ever again.
Even when their parents breathed down his back on their rare yet still too frequently made visits to Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji stopped crying about it and expecting Lan Xichen to come to his rescue. He learned to stop feeling.
But it is humorous how things change with a constant like the seasons themselves, move fluidly like a flowing river into the deeper unknowns. You meet people you don’t expect to meet, learn things you don’t expect to learn, think the unthinkable, do the impossible. And when you least expect to feel, a wall comes crashing down on you and forces you to reminisce what every limb in excruciating and exhilarating pain feels like inside your body.
Lan Wangji stops somewhere on the trail he is walking, his mind clearer than he had intended it to be. He had been so immersed in his wistfulness that he couldn’t pardon enough awareness to realize he traveled to a part of Cloud Recesses he has never seen in his life. Quickly turning on his heel, Lan Wangji re-traces his footsteps back.
And while he does so, at the risk of becoming too engrossed in his mind and losing his way again, he marvels upon remembering Wei Wuxian came to him during a time of need. The one person Lan Wangji would never have gambled to appear wound up to be the first and only to defend him in the absence of his usual protector. His bravery cannot be described in words, at least not ones that Lan Wangji owns let alone knows to use, but he does know he is indebted to Wei Wuxian.
Lan Wangji doesn’t catch the way his lips try to pull up at one corner before quickly returning to a frown. The memory of Wei Wuxian standing up for him lives only temporarily, the warmth briskly warping into nothing but fiery detestation as the words those three rats spat to Wei Wuxian echo in Lan Wangji’s ears.
Orphan. Low class. Something like you.
Lan Wangji clamps his fingers into his palm, nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin. He doesn’t know the first thing about Wei Wuxian’s background, can’t confirm nor deny if he is an orphan, what class he is from, but for some reason, hearing these terms and phrases used to describe him makes Lan Wangji’s blood boil. No one deserves to be spoken about in such a ruthless fashion.
Calling Lan Wangji a cheater, privileged, conceited, a know-it-all—these are all harmless, bantering words that can easily be shaken off without damaging Lan Wangji’s sense of self-worth. They are in and of themselves meaningless.
On the other hand, calling attention to the fact that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have parents, demeaning him based on arbitrary class systems, downright turning a blind eye to the fact that he is a human being—Lan Wangji cannot and will not stand for it. It is wrong beyond fathomable means. His nails dig so deeply into his palm that they break the skin, and it stings.
One more memory plays in his head:
Did they hurt you?
Lan Wangji closes his eyes, sighs so deeply the air feels like it will never come back out, and he wishes he would have had the guts to reply with the answer in his heart:
Yes. Very much so.