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In a quiet moment between conversations, Lan Wangji decided to bring it up. He’d thought about many times since Wei Ying had returned, but their world had been so chaotic for what seemed like every moment since then. It was only now, in the peace of the inn with the Juniors part of the clamor downstairs, that Lan Wangji thought that the time had come. Earlier in the market, Wei Ying had shown such heartbreak for what he thought was the loss of Wen Yuan. He couldn’t let such pain stand.
“Wei Ying,” he said, setting down his tea cup. Wei Ying looked at him with his fingers around his own cup of wine. He was nursing his second, for a change, and looked lost in thought until Lan Wangji had spoken.
“Mh?” he asked, and Lan Wangji thought for a moment on how to say the words. Wei Ying took another sip, seeming to know that Lan Wangji would speak given time. It made him feel known, in a way almost no one else did. With that warmth in his chest, he breathed in, and the sentence formed.
“Earlier you mentioned Wen Yuan.”
Pain shimmered in Wei Ying’s eyes at the words, and Lan Wangji’s heart squeezed.
“He’s alive,” he nearly blurted, in the hurry to erase the hurt. Wei Ying’s eyes widened, all his limbs freezing.
“Alive?” he whispered. His gaze was intense, hopeful, agonized, dreading bad news. “Where-?”
Wei Ying’s fingers were trembling as he put his cup down, and so Lan Wangji reached out for them without thinking, cradling his hands between his own.
“I brought him back to Gusu with me. Raised him as my son. His name is Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui.”
Tears spilled over, and the trembles didn’t stop, but Wei Ying’s smile grew like a sunrise.
“Lan Sizhui?” he said, voice quiet and rough already. “You did that? You saved him?”
“Mhm,” Lan Wangji nodded, and Wei Ying broke into a sob, before pulling his hands back suddenly. Lan Wangji had a moment of distress, before Wei Ying rounded the table, and threw himself at Lan Wangji, wrapping his arms around his neck. Lan Wangji hugged him back without hesitation. Damp grew on his shoulder, but he didn’t care in the least, rubbing Wei Ying’s shuddery back, and reveling in his warmth.
“Oh Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying said, drawing back a little, his face wet but so so bright. “Thank you so much!”
“No thanks are needed,” Lan Wangji said, emphatically. “Thank you, for such a wonderful child.”
Wei Ying sobbed again, but he was laughing. He drew back even more and wiped his face. “You have to tell me all the stories of him growing up. Oh! And he’s downstairs! I know he thinks I’m Mo Xuanyu, but oh I want to tell him-”
A note of sadness shivered its way into Lan Wangji’s heart, that he’d have to dampen this joy.
“He has no memory of before,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Ying sat back on his heels.
“Oh,” he said, pain getting quickly hidden away, but not quick enough that Lan Wangji didn’t see it. “I suppose he was quite young.”
Lan Wangji nodded sadly. “He was very ill, at first. The fevers took everything from before that time.”
Wei Ying pressed a hand to his heart. “Ah. That's, that’s probably good. He doesn’t know he’s a Wen, then?”
Lan Wangji shook his head. “He knows he’s an orphan from the war. That’s been enough for him. I planned to tell him when he was older.”
“I see.” Wei Ying looked down at the floor for a moment, and Lan Wangji would give much to know all the thoughts he could see passing over his face. Then he looked up, and smiled again, though it was a little smaller than before. “Still, he lives. And he’s wonderful, Lan Zhan. Truly, what a lovely boy.”
“He is, despite all my mistakes,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Ying tutted.
“I’m sure you are a fantastic father, Lan Zhan,” he chided, and Lan Wangji felt a smile prick the corner of his lips.
“You were one first.”
Wei Ying gasped, and wiped his eyes again. “Lan Zhan,” he pouted then. “Stop making my cry, it’s so mean.”
Lan Wangji let Wei Ying take a breath, and swallow more of his wine, before he turned to him with a smile. “Tell me all about him, Lan Zhan? Please? Were you strict on him, like you were on me when we were children?”
Lan Wangji’s smile broadened, and he shook his head. “I was not.” He hadn’t been able to bear anything more than kneeling and copying as discipline for his son, and by extension, the other junior disciples. He’d worked for changes in the whole system, and after his whipping, Lan Xichen and his Uncle supported it. There had been very little corporal punishment in the Cloud Recesses in the last sixteen years, except for the greatest of offensives, and Lan Yuan had never been beaten as a punishment.
Wei Ying smiled at him, leaning close to nudge him with a sharp elbow. “Ah, Lan Zhan is a big softy of a dad? I should have known, after you bought all the toys A-Yuan asked for back in Yiling.”
“Mhm. A-Yuan had a lot of toys.”
“You spoiled him,” Wei Ying said, leaning over onto the table with an elbow. “I’m so glad. He deserves it, after going without for so long…”
Lan Wangji nodded as Wei Ying touched on his very thoughts, each time little A-Yuan had asked for a gift when he went on a trip, or for an extra helping of food.
“He shared readily. Anything I gave him was also understood to be for Lan Jingyi as well. They have been friends since they met at five years old.”
“Ahh, that’s wonderful! Lan Jingyi is of your family branch, right? I saw his ribbon.”
“Yes. He’s my father’s cousin’s child.”
“Mmm that’s so nice.” Wei Ying’s smile was so bright, that for once, Lan wangji wanted to keep talking, to keep telling the little anecdotes and stories of Lan Sizhui’s childhood, just to keep that smile burning so brilliantly. They spoke for hours, far past bedtime, and by the time his eyes were unavoidably drooping, his throat was rough from the stories he’d told. Wei Ying had spent the last hour or so leaning on his side, as they reclined against the bed frame, with Lan Wangji’s arm around his waist. Lan Wangji couldn’t have been happier.
“Ah Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, it’s so far past your bedtime,” Wei Ying said, snuggling his face into Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “You should sleep.”
He didn’t want to, and he was tired enough to pout a little in displeasure that they’d have to get up. It made Wei Ying laugh.
“Lan Zhan, you silly.” Wei Ying sighed and pulled away, standing and leaning down a hand. “C’mon sleepyhead. Who knew you were one of those parents who will talk for so long about their child, it’s adorable.”
Lan Wangji let Wei Ying pull him to his feet, and his smile to Lan Wangji warmed him to the bottom of his heart.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Ying grinned even more, eyes shining.
“Thank you.”
“No need.”