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Wei Wuxian stared at the phone as it rang, putting it on speaker because his hands were shaking too hard to hold it. And it made him feel less alone to know that Lan Wangji could witness both sides of the conversation, even though it also meant exposing himself down to every nerve in his body. Nothing had really changed in thirteen years; Lan Wangji still felt safe to be vulnerable with.
There was only one person he could call first, of course. One person whose voice he needed most to hear, now that he’d seen Lan Wangji. He stared at the name on the sleek and perfect screen, not a dent or scratch anywhere on the respectably-new-but-not-extravagant model encased in the not-a-tank-but-respectably-well-protected phone case. He didn’t have a pop socket because the case had a built-in retractable stand to use instead, economic in design as Lan Wangji preferred. The only sign of anything not austere and minimalist and thoroughly utility-centric about the phone was the fact that the case was clearly a custom color, because Wei Wuxian was quite sure that no phone case company made a case like this in pale blue with the distinctive white clouds of the Cloud Recesses that nearly all Lans had called home for basically forever. Unless the Cloud Recesses had, in a sudden show of excess disguised as uniformity, decided to license a phone company to make cases for its residents. Which didn’t quite seem in character.
These were the thoughts Wei Wuxian distracted himself with as the ringing echoed in the kitchen and that name flashed on the screen, because otherwise he might have chucked the phone out the window so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. And then the phone was answered, right before it was about to go to voicemail.
“Lan Wangji, hello,” a sweet voice answered, and Wei Wuxian’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes burned. “A-Ling said he was going to ask if he could come over this weekend, did Sizhui ask already? Do you have some concerns?” Wei Wuxian worked his jaw for a moment, trying to force something, anything, past the rock that had settled in his windpipe. The only sound was the pounding of his heart in his ears and the echo of his sister’s voice. “Lan Wangji? Is everything alright?”
“Jiejie,” Wei Wuxian finally managed, the word hoarse and strangled and barely audible, his face feeling strangely wet. There was a loud clatter on the other end of the line, and Wei Wuxian jumped. A pale, long-fingered hand reached across the table and covered his own, and suddenly he could breathe again, sniffling a little.
“A-Xian?” Yanli whispered breathlessly, as though she didn’t believe it. “A-Xian, is that you?”
“Jiejie,” he repeated, and now he was smiling. “It’s me.”
“A-Xian!” Yanli sobbed, and there was the sound of movement in the background. “A-Xian, you’re at Lan Wangji’s place? Tell him I’m coming over. Don’t move, a-Xian, I need- I need to see you!”
“You are welcome here, Jiang Yanli,” Lan Wangji intoned, and Yanli hung up in the middle of her babbled gratitude.
Wei Wuxian grinned and wiped his cheeks. He was going to see his sister for the first time in a decade. Lan Wangji squeezed his hand and Wei Wuxian laughed wetly and squeezed back.
“A-Ying, you can call me jiejie,” Jiang Yanli said with a gentle smile, carefully wiping at Wei Ying’s wet face. “You’re part of my family now, you know.”
“But Yu-furen doesn’t like me,” he whimpered, sniffling. “And now Jiang Cheng will hate me forever, because Uncle Jiang made him give his puppies away.”
“Oh, a-Ying,” Jiang Yanli sighed, still with that gentle expression on her lovely face. “Who do you think asked me to come find you? A-Cheng will warm up to you, don’t worry. He’s so happy to have a friend his age now. And don’t worry about mother. She won’t send you away or anything like that. She’s just a little stern.”
Wei Ying sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve, then hated himself for staining the brand new clothes he’d been given. “Jiang Cheng asked you to find me?” he asked her, smiling again.
Jiang Yanli nodded and gathered him in her arms. “He did. He was so worried about you. Come on, let’s go home and he’ll tell you that he’s sorry and I’ll make you both some soup. How’s that sound?”
“Yes!” Wei Ying cried, grinning.
“It will take her twenty minutes to arrive, unless she breaks several traffic laws,” Lan Wangji told him. “Perhaps you should call your brother as well.”
That one was harder, but now that he’d heard his sister’s voice he couldn’t imagine a reunion without Jiang Cheng in it, too. He nodded and pushed the little green phone icon beside the contact for Jiang Wanyin in Lan Wangji’s phone.
This time the phone only rang three times before it was answered. “What?” came the terse, grumpy greeting. It seemed that his brother’s relationship with Lan Wangji had not improved in his absence.
“I see your phone manners haven’t improved any over the years, a-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian teased, because it was the only way he thought he could get through this at all.
There was silence for a full sixty-four seconds; Wei Wuxian watched them tick by on the screen, wondering if Jiang Cheng had thrown his phone away except for the eerie silence on the other end. Finally, “Wei Wuxian,” his brother said, and his tone was unreadable for the first time. It didn’t sound angry, which he might have expected, or sad, or resigned. It sounded like a robot had said it with Jiang Cheng’s voice, and that was a lot scarier than anger would have been.
“That’s me,” Wei Wuxian managed weakly.
“Where are you?” Jiang Cheng asked, still in that blank voice.
Wei Wuxian sighed, trying to keep himself together. “Lan Wangji’s house. Why else would I be calling from his phone?”
“I don’t know, because you stole it?” Jiang Cheng spat, and that sounded much more normal, far more familiar, and Wei Wuxian laughed in relief. “ Glue your ass to a seat and keep it there. And you better have called a-jie already! If you leave her out or hurt her in any way, I’ll break your legs!”
“She’s already on her way, a-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian told him, sniffling again and pressing his free hand into his eyes as though that was going to stop the tears.
“Good,” Jiang Cheng grunted, and then the phone beeped to let him know the line was dead.
Wei Wuxian laughed wetly, and gently extracted his hand from Lan Wangji’s to scrub his wet face and wipe his eyes. “I see he’s as charming as ever.” A tissue found its way into Wei Wuxian’s hand, and he opened his eyes to find a box of them placed in front of him and Lan Wangji’s warm golden eyes watching him with concern. “I’m okay, Lan Zhan. It’s just… It’ll be an emotional few days, you know?”
“Whatever you need,” Lan Wangji said, and it sounded like a vow. Wei Wuxian had to wipe his face again.
Wei Wuxian had never really gotten far enough in a relationship before to have to meet his partner’s family, and he kind of hoped he’d never have to do this again. Mostly because he really, really wanted Lan Wangji to be his last relationship, but also because this experience was harrowing, to say the least.
Really, who in their right mind decided that speaking during meals was the height of rudeness? Also, how exactly was Wei Wuxian, who was known for his constant chatter, supposed to keep to that rule? Also also, what did these people do when they needed, like, the salt? Gesture wildly until someone figured it out?
Except there was no salt on the table. There was nothing on the table except each person’s bowl of ridiculously bland food and each person’s cup of water. That was it. Wei Wuxian felt like he might cry from how bland the food was. Did they even own any salt, let alone spices? How had Lan Wangji lived on this food for so long?
Wei Wuxian shifted in his chair and opened his mouth to speak again, anything to break the silence, but Lan Wangji’s hand suddenly was gently resting on his own, reminding him to be quiet. Wei Wuxian pouted but put food in his mouth instead of speaking. Lan Wangji seemed to have an uncanny ability to predict exactly when he was about to break the silence, and Wei Wuxian had never been as grateful for a meal to end as he was for that one to be over. As soon as Lan Wangji met his gaze and nodded slightly over the empty bowls, Wei Wuxian chattered away at top speed, all the words he hadn’t been able to say during the meal tumbling out all at once and tripping over each other.
Lan Xichen’s gentle smile widened, seeming amused, but their uncle, Lan Qiren, scowled even more deeply. Lan Xichen asked delicate, easy questions whenever Wei Wuxian paused for breath, and seemed genuinely interested in the answers, but it almost seemed as though with each word that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth Lan Qiren scowled a little deeper. Still, he didn’t speak until it was time for Wei Wuxian to leave.
Lan Wangji stood by the door, shoes on, ready to walk Wei Wuxian home, while Wei Wuxian struggled with the lacing of his combat boots, and Lan Xichen stood smiling off to the side, looking thoroughly pleased about something that Wei Wuxian didn’t want to think about. Lan Qiren approached, and didn’t even acknowledge Wei Wuxian as he addressed his youngest nephew.
“Wangji. Are you sure?” he asked, and it sounded like it meant a lot more than it seemed to on the surface. Wei Wuxian looked up from his boot after finally managing to tie it off well enough to see Lan Wangji frowning at his uncle.
“Yes,” he said rather forcefully, instead of the monosyllabic not-quite-a-word that Wei Wuxian had been expecting. Wei Wuxian beamed at him and jumped to his feet, linking their arms together and basking in the soft look on his boyfriend’s face as he turned to him.
“Thanks for dinner!” he chirped, backing towards the door. “Be seeing you!”
“I’m sure we will,” Lan Xichen replied, and that pleased look had edged into smug territory. Wei Wuxian was not going to think about that, and was instead going to enjoy the walk with his boyfriend and probably find a nice, sturdy wall to make out against.
Lan Wangji spent most of the time before their guests arrived meticulously preparing tea the old fashioned way, heating water on the gas stove in a cast iron tea pot to an exact temperature he measured with an instant read thermometer, then taking the teapot off the heat and placing it on a matching trivet. Loose tea leaves were carefully measured and then sprinkled on the hot water, then the lid was replaced and it was allowed to steep while Lan Wangji prepared the cups. Wei Wuxian watched him in fascination, having glued his ass to the seat in a way that was only partially on purpose, and wondered if he was imagining the stiffness in Lan Wangji’s shoulders, and the slightly less graceful way his hands moved.
“Lan Zhan, are you okay?” Wei Wuxian asked as the strainer was placed above the first tea cup in the line of four and left there while Lan Wangji retrieved a small pitcher from his fridge that was carefully marked ‘simple syrup’ on a designated little white label. Lan Wangji placed the pitcher and three tiny teaspoons on the tray with the rest of the tea set before he responded.
“You are here,” Lan Wangji said, bracing his hands on the kitchen counter on either side of the tray, looking almost like he needed the support. Wei Wuxian found his ass magically unglued from the chair and made his way to Lan Wangji’s side. Golden eyes met his with an almost frantic and desperate look, and Wei Wuxian’s heart clenched. How had he ever doubted this man’s affection for him?
“I’m here,” Wei Wuxian offered softly, smiling just for him. “I won’t have to leave again, if you don’t want me to.”
Lan Wangji took his hand again, squeezing so hard it hurt, but Wei Wuxian never thought to complain. “Never,” he whispered, and Wei Wuxian brought their joined hands to his lips. He watched Lan Wangji shiver just a little, almost unnoticeable, and felt something warm unfurl in his belly.
Groaning, Wei Wuxian reached over to his phone and managed to knock it to the floor before actually picking it up. During that time, it stopped making that awful noise so he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Then the noise started again, and he groaned even louder. One eye slitted open, he answered the call.
“Mmmf?” was all he managed, his head pounding and his mouth stuffed with cotton.
“Wei Ying?” the sweetest voice on the other end of the line said, and Wei Wuxian scrubbed at his eyes and rolled onto his back, attempting to return to consciousness.
“Lan Zhan, hi,” he managed, his voice rough and raspy and barely human, the sound bringing back his memories of the night before in a thoroughly unpleasant way. “What’s up?”
There was silence for a moment, and then the barest hint of a sigh, just barely picked up by the cell phone. “You are hungover.” The words were without inflection, but Wei Wuxian could still hear the judgement in them. Wei Wuxian scowled.
“So?” he snapped, rubbing at his face again and returning to the land of the living. “I’m allowed. This is university, I’m an extrovert, it was Saturday, you aren’t here to be mad about it.”
The beat of silence that followed was loaded, and if his head wasn’t pounding so hard Wei Wuxian might have felt bad about snapping at his boyfriend. But the reason he’d gotten roaring drunk in his dorm room alone was still too close, the words Yu-furen had spat at him still stinging like the lashes of a whip, the look Jiang Cheng had leveled at him still burning like a brand, the need to escape still clawing at his throat like bile, and between that and the last of the liquor his temper was right at the surface. “Wei Ying-” Lan Wangji started, and his voice was too gentle, too soft, and that hurt, too.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” Wei Wuxian cut him off. “I’ll call you later.” He hung up and let his phone fall onto the floor so he could wallow in his hangover a little longer. He didn’t call Lan Wangji back that day, or the next.
Eighteen minutes after she had hung up the phone, Jiang Yanli knocked on the door. Lan Wangji was still holding Wei Wuxian’s hand and staring at his face as though memorizing it all over again, but he reluctantly pulled away to answer the door.
Jiang Yanli’s eyes were red and the buttons of her sweater weren’t lined up correctly, and she stumbled trying to get her shoes off. “Where is he?” she asked, gripping Lan Wangji’s arm as though she’d fall over without the support. Lan Wangli put a steadying hand on her back and took her to the living room, where there were more seats available than the two-seated table in the kitchen. Wei Wuxian took a deep breath before joining her on the couch. Her eyes widened and gleamed as they fixed on him, and her hand shook as she covered her mouth with it.
He summoned a smile, shaky though it felt. “Hi, jiejie,” he whispered, his voice fighting him.
“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli sobbed, and suddenly he was in her arms, face pressed into her shoulder as she held him against her like he was a child again, running her fingers through his hair with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. She used to do that for him whenever he had a nightmare, or after Jiang Cheng chased away a dog.
He held her carefully, not wanting to crush her, and sobbed into her shoulder. He was probably ruining her pretty pink sweater, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much when it was the first time he’d seen her in over a decade. He grinned through his tears and finally felt like it was real, he was home.
There was another, much more aggressive knock on the door, and Wei Wuxian lifted his head. Lan Wangi was already halfway there, so Wei Wuxian wiped his face and reached for another tissue. “Um, that’ll be Jiang Cheng probably,” he said once he wasn’t in danger of dripping snot everywhere.
Jiang Yanli was smiling at him, that gentle, perfect smile he’d missed so much. He wiped her tears away with his thumb, but more fell. “Good,” she said, and her voice was far steadier than his. “We can all be together again. Like we should be.” Guilt stabbed him in the stomach so hard he almost vomited on the spot. She didn’t mean it like that, of course, his jiejie was never cruel, but it hurt all the same. He’d abandoned them…
He turned towards the door before that particular spiral could take hold, and found Jiang Cheng’s face covered in stormclouds. He looked a little older, a little sharper, and the frown lines on his face looked permanent in a way they hadn’t been before. He stopped short when he saw them, the scowl smoothed away for a moment, and without it he looked so tired. Jiang Cheng was too young to look that exhausted. The moment passed and the scowl returned.
“Thirteen years,” he spat, stomping the last few steps to the couch. Wei Wuxian saw Lan Wangji watching him carefully, far enough away to be polite but close enough to intercept if he tried anything violent. It was sweet. “A fucking decade, and no word. Not a visit, or a phone call, not even a fucking note left behind. You didn’t even say goodbye. Now you want to just waltz back in like everything’s fine?”
Wei Wuxian watched him wearily. He’d missed his little brother, truly, but he knew he’d earned his ire, too. “You know why I couldn’t call,” he said, feeling exhausted against despite sixteen hours of sleep. “I’d be putting you and jiejie in danger if I did.”
“Danger?” Jiang Cheng seethed. He surged forward and grabbed Wei Wuxian by the shoulders, hauling him up and shaking him harshly. Lan Wangji leapt toward them, but Wei Wuxian waved him off. He wasn’t hurting him yet, so it was fine. “As though we hadn’t already been put in danger? A-jie still has the scar from that fucking knife!”
“A-Cheng, you know that wasn’t a-Xian’s fault,” came Jiang Yanli’s soothing voice. She had one hand on both of her brother’s, and she gentled Jiang Cheng’s grip until his clenched hands released. “It was my choice to push him away, and I knew what the consequences were when I did. I don’t regret it.” She met Wei Wuxian’s tear-filled gaze. “I never did. It healed just fine, and it saved my a-Xian’s life. How could I ever regret it?”
“Jiejie,” he whispered, swaying on his feet as he remembered the terror and rage when the knife meant for his back had plunged into Yanli’s shoulder instead.
It was good to see Jiang Yanli. It always was, even when he knew he wouldn’t see her again for a long time, maybe not ever. Still, her soft hands made him feel safe when patted his head.
“Are you okay, a-Xian?” she asked with genuine concern. He had to swallow hard so he wouldn’t cry. “What happened? The police came by this morning to ask if you were there, and they wouldn’t tell me anything. A-Cheng won’t tell me where he was last night, either. So I told the police he was with me, helping with a-Ling while Zixuan was at the office. What’s going on?”
“Jiejie,” he tried, and had to sniffle hard. “I’m sorry, jiejie.”
Yanli took her hand back and regarded him worriedly. “A-Xian, I know you didn’t do what they’re saying,” she said, her conviction making him want to sob. “You’re not like that, you could never murder anyone for money or anything like that. I know my XianXian, and he’s a good person. He doesn’t steal, and he doesn’t hurt people on purpose. So what’s going on? How can I help? Zixuan is offering help, too. Anything you need to get this mess sorted out.”
“Jiejie, I just need you to stay out of it,” he told her. “I came to give you this, for Jin Ling.” He handed over the bracelet he’d spent months hand-carving, covered in little symbols for luck and good fortune. “But jiejie, don’t ask after me anymore, okay?”
Yanli’s eyes filled with tears and she reached up to pat his head again. Even though he was leaving everyone he knew and loved behind, he couldn’t refuse her affection even now. “A-Xian,” she started, but whatever she was going to say was lost when she suddenly shoved him aside. A man with half his face covered stumbled when his intended target was no longer in reach, but the knife in his hand kept moving and ended up deep in Yanli’s shoulder. She was quiet, as she fell, tears still glistening in her eyes, and the man who had stabbed her watched in horror before deciding on the better part of valor and fleeing the scene.
Wei Wuxian remembered little after that, could recall screaming, could recall calling for an ambulance on Yanli’s cell phone since he’d already disposed of his own. He came back to himself, just a little, hours later on his third bus as far away as he could go, to the realization that there was blood on his hands. His sister’s blood on his hands.
He never should have tried to say goodbye.
Yanli’s gentle hand on his face brought him back to the present moment. “All that matters is that you’re home now,” she said, smiling her perfect smile. She sniffled delicately, and another crystalline tear fell down her cheek. “You’re so thin, a-Xian. I’ll be sure to bring you plenty of soup.”
Jiang Cheng’s hands were back, fisted in Wei Wuxian’s shirt. “You left us,” he accused, but it sounded a lot less furious and lot more lost. “You abandoned us and vanished. People kept telling us to hold a funeral, to declare you dead. They wanted you to be dead. Just tell me why. Why did you have to take everything onto yourself like that?”
Wei Wuxian knew what his brother was talking about, and smiled sadly. “I was already accused of murder, and blackmail, and embezzelment, and a few kidnappings, and some more murders. What was one more? Especially since I did actually have a hand in Wen Chao’s death. The one death I was actually involved in, of course I was going to take the blame.”
“It was my hand on the knife,” Jiang Cheng ground out, tears gathering in his eyes, as though he’d forgotten that Lan Wangji had once been a detective on this exact case and was standing right behind him, “while he was trying to choke the life from you. It was my fault. But you wiped my prints from the scene and you let them think it was you. You told them it was you!” He shook Wei Wuxian like a ragdoll until Lan Wangji pried him away with a scowl and Jiang Yanli helped steady him on shaking legs. “Why?” he demanded, still pulling against Lan Wangji but without any real conviction.
Wei Wuxian was silent for a moment, just staring at his brother while his heart shattered. “If I let you take the blame for that, what else would they have tried to pin on you? You weren’t even supposed to be there, I was supposed to be alone in my office. If I let them know you were there, they might have said that you were helping me with all of it. How could I let that happen, when it was so easy to prevent it? You didn’t have to go down with me.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make!” Jiang Cheng shouted, and then crumpled like all the fight was drained from him all at once. Hot, fat tears slid down his face as he knelt on Lan Wangji’s rug, and for a few long moments the only sound in the room was Yanli’s quiet sobbing and Jiang Cheng’s harsh breathing. “I needed my brother,” Jiang Cheng finally said through the tears, and Wei Wuxian knelt with him on the floor, one hand uncertainly reaching out to grip his shoulder. “My parents were dead, my home was burned down, my company was on the edge of ruin, and I needed my brother. You promised to be there always. You promised we three would always be together.”
“I’m sorry I broke my promise,” Wei Wuxian told him softly, earnestly. Jiang Cheng grabbed him again, but instead of shaking him some more or punching him he dragged him forward and wrapped his arms around him so tightly it hurt. Wei Wuxian ruined both his siblings’ sweaters with his tears, and the tea Lan Wangji had made was forgotten.