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Chapter Text

My Pride and My Prejudice

Chapter 1 - Yearning

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Lan Sizhui was always certain that there was something different about him. Some might say that being different was a good thing, it made you unique and set you apart from the bland crowd, but to Sizhui it was a whole different tale written out so crudely from the Sisters' of Fate.

It felt like the elders were always on their toes at him, if anything bad happened Sizhui was always searched first. Their eyes seemingly glued to him like he was about to snap at any moment. It never felt as if it was a good type of different, one that would give you a head start in this cultivating world, it was one as if you were a caged animal ready to strike. He never did feel like an animal, he'd always been a sweet child by nature, so the unwanted attention was terrifying and confusing.

To most, Sizhui was just Sizhui. Father would probably spout a meaningful lesson about how his anxiety shouldn’t make him feel different. Jingyi would probably agree with him and say how cool he was. They were two people in his life that he could truly trust with his life. Jingyi was a constant being in his life, a friend that he could trust with his heart and not have to worry for the boy to turn around and break it. Father was his hero, someone he could look to when all else would fall to the way side. Just the thought of letting down his Father felt like a stab to the heart.

Jin Ling on the other hand… their relationship was a tough one. Cousins through marriage that they didn’t even know, yet when revealed it was like a disastrous hurricane. 

Sizhui, birth name Lan Yuan was born literally five months before his mother succumbed to demonic cultivation. Jin Ling’s mom was the one who put herself in front of a blade that was meant for his mother, a fruitless attempt to keep her brother alive. Sizhui's mother was a mess, had thought that his only son was turned to ash and people who considered to be his siblings killed for their heritage. His very own found family had been literally found and killed. 

The one thing that Jin Ling took from the death of his parents, his father also being killed by Wen Ning the Ghost General, was that he held prejudices. He believed that anyone who even practiced the cultivation, that mother had tried to perfect, were bad people. Even going as far as anyone that associated with the Patriarch was manipulative. 

He had a fiery tongue, one that lashed out at Sizhui for most of teenage life. Using his anxiety to call him an attention whore, calling him a bastard, vile, a demon in disguise. Sizhui and Jin Ling had a barrier, one that was built on prejudices and one’s pride of not succumbing to the insults sent. 

Life wasn’t always this hard, Sizhui’s youth was rather blissfully innocent. For the reason his Father was terrified of the thought of Sizhui getting hurt so he was shut away either in the Jingshi or infirmary. The kind doctors explained to him that he was a premature baby at the time of his birth so he was slightly behind the charts of a normal growing boy as well as growing ill more often. Before he had the dog incident, he was free to walk to school with Father down the main road of the Cloud Recess. 

It was just the beginning of daybreak when the gong symbolizing the new junior class started, the honey glow of the fresh breaking sun broke through the thin curtains of the Lecture hall. Sizhui could only smile to himself, hiding it under his collar as the sun kissed his face. 

He was so excited, because it was the first day of his actual lessons. Up until now, Father had taught him the alphabet, how to spell out a bunch of words and numbers, as well as encouraging him to read the informational text of Gusu’s vast history. Now, he could actually put them to use. 

Earlier in the hour, Father had walked him to the Lecture hall. Sizhui squeezed his hand, beaming up at any disciple that happened to cross their path. 

“Are you excited?” He asked with an amused quirk on the lip. The thing with Father is that most people liked to describe him as cold or emotionless, but Sizhui couldn’t think of a kinder person. 

Father helped so many people and he’d do it without even a blink of recognition. He was Sizhui’s hero. “I get to go to school like Father!” He giggled, swinging back and forth their joined hands. 

“Yes, you’ll learn lots.” Sizhui loved learning, Father had once said it ran in their family, the thirst for discovering the impossible. Sizhui went on, babbling about the whole walk there. 

Before they walked up to the Hall, Father pulled the young boy aside with a gentle hand to a small corner of a pavilion. He went down on his knee and fussed domestically with Sizhui’s robe. “Remember. Our talk.” He graveled, dusting off Sizhui’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior!” Sizhui promised, childishly raising three fingers in the promise. “I will be quiet when the teacher talks and listen very closely! When I’m confused I’ll raise my hand and ask questions!” 

Father's lips quirked up into his own personal smile, pinching Sizhui’s cheek. “Good. Mother would be so proud,” he grinned fondly watching the younger burst with pride in all his golden glory. “Go. Don’t let him down.” 

“Yes!” Sizhui beamed, waving one last time before rounding the corner. The Hall was bustling with little bodies. When he broke the threshold it felt like every pair of eyes was on him. Instinctively, his hands came to his chest to begin picking at the skin around his fingers, breaking old wounds with sharp nails.

A group of boys who were huddled together to mess around, took notice of the new boy and they gestured for Sizhui to come over. Father’s words came to him the minute his foot strayed from the neat line that the desks made. 

Behave. Don’t let Mother down. 

Without even so much of a glance, Sizhui ignored the troublemakers to sit at the front desk of the Hall. Flourishing his robe back, he sat down with grace and elegance that could only be passed down in his genes and arranged the desk to his standards. 

“Who is that?” He heard one of the boys whisper to the gaggle of girls that merged their group together to make a terrifying quadrant verses Sizhui’s own self. 

“That’s Hanguang-Jun’s son, Lan Sizhui!” A girl who was very bad at whispering told the boy, “he is very nice on the eyes!” 

The girls all giggled, causing an uncomfortable blush to appear on Sizhui’s cheeks. The compliment must have been wrongly said, because now Sizhui could see every boy in class glaring at him. 

'What in the world did he do to these guys! '

Sizhui’s life was saved when the teacher came into the classroom and demanded all attention. The mob of students had dispersed at sight to fill the empty seats. Beside Sizhui, a boy sat down next to him in the front, he offered a small glance and saw the boy’s eyes light up at just a look. He waved excitedly, Sizhui ignored him. 

Class started with math and he couldn’t help, but thank Mother up in heaven for this blessing. He was good at math, he could do this. 

The teacher began talking about multiplication and going through finding an x situation. The boy beside Sizhui had to not want to listen or really wanted his attention, because he would not stop throwing bundles of crumpled papers. 

“Is he making fun of me?” Sizhui thought with a stone settling in his stomach. When the next piece of paper was thrown his way, he caught it effortlessly and threw it back. It hit the boy square in the face causing him to yelp in surprise. “Shameless.” Sizhui hissed. 

The boy looked at the paper and then back at Sizhui, before he grinned so brightly it was almost like Sizhui had praised him rather than insulted him. “I’m Jingyi!” He whispered, pulling on Sizhui’s robe sleeve, “we should be friends! We sit right-“ 

Before he could go on, the teacher turned around to glare daggers at Sizhui, Jingyi was forgotten. “Lan Sizhui, quiet!” He snapped. 

Jingyi’s smile drooped, Sizhui hadn’t even said anything and he was getting in trouble. The next thing he knows, the quiet boy raised his hand. The teacher seemed almost hesitant to call on him. 

“I have a question, Teacher Lan,” Sizhui stood up and brought his hands together to bow, “You see, I got a different answer than what you got on the board, I think if you-“ and the next thing Jingyi knew he wasn’t understanding a word out of Sizhui’s mouth. 

Math was hard and it was even harder when someone who was very skilled in the subject began to talk about it. He blinked widely as the teacher began rearranging the problem, humming along as Sizhui explained how he had done it. 

“Lan Sizhui, I’m impressed, I didn’t even catch my own mistake. Thank you for paying attention,” the teacher flourished his robe sleeve as the other sat down emotionlessly. Inside Sizhui was partying, shows him right. He wasn’t goofing off with Jingyi. 

Looking over, Sizhui brandished his impression of Father, “pay attention.” 

Jingyi blushed, rigidly sitting up in the seat as a hot wave of humiliation ran up his spine. “Yeah, I am,” he offered a smile and was met with that cold look. No wonder he was Hanguang-Jun’s kid. 

Class passed easily, the teacher using Sizhui to correct most of the students who failed. Jingyi was subjected heavily to the scrutiny from his fellow peers. This style of teaching was to allow students to build a relationship of competition and Sizhui was placed high right off the bat. 

The teacher could already see the glares brewing in their young eyes as Sizhui stood up again and told a quivering girl that her answer wasn’t even close. 

He called class over when the sun hit high in the sky, telling the students to have a free period before history would start. Sizhui closed his math textbook, standing up with all the other students to bow to him in respect. 

Sitting back down, Sizhui was met with those huge sparkling eyes of Jingyi, “you’re so good at math!” He drawled with a whine, “I’m so awful, you should tutor me!” 

“No,” Sizhui glanced up with hard eyes, “try listening to the lesson, before giving up on yourself.” 

Jingyi laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head, “You could tell? He’s just so boring, how do you listen?” 

“I open my ears?” Sizhui tilted his head, unsure of what to say. How could someone ask him how he listened, it wasn’t a hard thing! 

“Jingyi!” Another boy had butted into their conversation, basically leaning over the desk to separate the two, “come talk to us, Young Master Lan must not be much fun talking to.” 

The two looked at each other, Sizhui glared hotly and Jingyi could feel the battle starting. “Don’t butt into conversations, it’s rude.” 

“You think you're so cool, eh?” The boy hissed, “Just because your Hanguang-Jun’s son doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us here!” 

“He never said that he was better than us!” Jingyi shot back, Sizhui turned to him with eyes wide, “it’s not his fault that he’s better at math! It is so hard, he must have studied so long!” 

He did study, Father always said to be prepared for the worst so he did. Any subject he was supposed to learn was turned into a challenge before they even got there. “Yeah, well-“ the boy snapped, “whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“Okay, you can settle down!” An older voice called for attention, immediately the conversations were halted and they rose to bow to the teacher. He was much older than the math teacher, his face drooped down with deep wrinkles and hard scars of life. The eyes so deepened with years of life scanned the class, his eyes landing on Sizhui. 

Teacher Lan was much older than most of the elders that processed through the system. His brain was far too familiar to the arrival of the now student that stood before him with hardened eyes. 

He could see Wei Wuxian in this boy. 

From the slight curl of his hair and youthful baby fat that hugged his cheeks. He may have had the Lan nose, but to all the boys around him there was a difference in his genes. Did the art of demonic cultivation spur in this boy’s veins, did he wish to go against all teaching, did he long to rebel. 

Time would only tell, but Teacher Lan decided he was going to keep a close eye on Lan Sizhui. 

Years would go by from their first meeting, Sizhui was an intelligent student and he couldn’t help, but admire the dedication that he put into his studies. It was a plague that infected the class, they all studied hard to beat Sizhui. 

Jingyi met the other in his strengths, both of them always becoming sparring partners and hanging around each other. Teacher Lan could only compare the two to his parents. Sizhui was very similar to Lan Zhan, the way he held himself highly and punished himself viciously for failures. Jingyi was a born trouble maker, he made a mark on Teacher Lan’s list of asshole kids he couldn’t wait to graduate. 

When the Cultivation Conference began in the Spring, Gusu would welcome the young cultivators of every clan to their lectures. The Jin clan sent their next heir Jin Ling and Teacher Lan immediately separated Sizhui from him. 

No matter what, he hoped Jin Ling didn’t know who Sizhui was and especially who his Mother was. During the Sunshot campaign and through the days after that brought Jin Zixun’s death and a few days later Jiāng Yanli’s death was only the doings of Wei Wuxian. 

He couldn’t do anything when Jin Ling and Sizhui met and suddenly became friends. The unspoken past between two children was terrifying. He decided he needed to tell the Great Hanguang-Jun the doings of his only son. 

“Hanguang-Jun,” Teacher Lan greeted the taller man with a curt bow. Lan Zhan was a sight to behold, his regal personality came off in waves from the way he carried himself. If anything he felt small in the other’s presence. 

“Elder, Good Morning,” he greeted back, voice a low grumble. 

Teacher Lan caught the other skillfully leaving the Library with a stack of books in the cradle of his arm. “I’ve been meaning to find you, I have concern for Lan Sizhui.” 

The man blinked, before any attention he was giving to the outside was brought to the teacher intensely, “Yes, did something happen? Is he okay?” 

The worry was expected, but surprising coming from the emotionless Hanguang-Jun, “aha don’t worry,” Teacher Lan quickly covered with a flourish of his robe, “It’s probably nothing, it’s just since the coming of the many clans for the Lectures it seems our Lan Sizhui has made good friends with Jin Rulan.” 

Silence filled the corridor, Hanguang-Jun’s eyes grew cold as he glared so ferociously that Teacher Lan could only step back. He tried to fix himself, blabbering words that hopefully dilute the situation, but the Jade didn’t waver in his anger. 

They were brought out of the conversation when there was a suspicious shake of the tree above them. Looking up they saw the trio of boys, Jin Rulan, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Jingyi all huddled together to hear. 

When caught they all let out a cry of surprise, Sizhui the loudest, “Father!” He cried, losing all thought about respecting his elders to fall into domestic terms, “it isn’t what it looks like!” 

“Come down, all of you,” Hanguang-Jun ordered, “I’ll deal with them, thank you,” He coldly brushed past Teacher Lan to help the three scale the tree. Jin Rulan was just like his father, Hanguang-Jun thought with a slight bit of amusement as the boy jumped down without any help. Jingyi was a clumsy boy though, he needed extra assistance to climb out. 

“Father!” Sizhui was obviously out of breath and his cheeks were red with embarrassment, “Jingyi was working on riding his sword and we followed him, we didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” 

“Yeah! We’ll take any punishment!” Jingyi added on with his signature puppy eyes. 

“Why can’t Sizhui and I, be friends.” 

They all turned to Jin Ling who had his arms crossed, his father’s sword hugged tightly to his chest. “Jin Ling, it wasn’t our conversation to hear!” Sizhui scolded instead. 

Jin Ling’s eyes narrowed with the challenge, he looked so curious, “no, I want to know. If it’s about me I want to know!” 

“Old history,” Hanguang-Jun decided on with a cold expression, “between your parents and your mother.” 

He pointed to the boys, Sizhui’s eyes lighting up when Mother was brought up and Jin Ling’s eyes darkening. “It’s old history, it doesn’t involve us!” 

“Remember that,” he finished mysteriously, turning on his heel to leave. Lan Zhan hoped that they would hopefully keep that mindset if the truth was revealed. 

___❀___

When the night breached the sky, Sizhui could only lay awake in his bed staring at the ceiling. In his hand was the familiar soft silk of the red ribbon his Mother wore in his hair. Father once said that they had found the ribbon tied around his neck in a cheesy bow, almost like Mother offered him like a gift.

When Mother died, Father thought that he had died with Sizhui whose false ashes were spread across the Nightless City with Wen Qing and Wen Ning. He thought his whole family was lost, so when his newborn son was revealed to be hidden away in Burial Mountain, it had been a breath of fresh air. 

Rubbing the fabric between his fingers, he let out a soft sigh. Father never talked about Mother, it was an unspoken rule between them. The grief Father had been through over Mother held him back from telling Sizhui everything. 

He could only speculate that Mother wasn’t a part of the clan, since everyone spoke of him as some kind of terrifying delinquent. 

The bed dipped suddenly causing Sizhui to fling himself up with his sword at ready. To his surprise, Jin Ling was the one who sat down, his expression obviously brooding even in such terrible lighting. 

“I see you’re still awake too,” Jin Ling offered a slight smile, as he completely sat on the bed, crossing his legs. 

“I’ve been thinking about what Teacher Lan has told my father and what my father’s answer was,” Sizhui answered, eyes turning down to the red ribbon that he held onto, “why is everyone so afraid of us being friends. What did my mother do?” 

“Do you know anything about your mother?” Jin Ling asked, Sizhui shook his head, “really? My uncle tells me all kinds of stuff about my parents.”

Sizhui lips went in a tight line, “we don’t talk about Mother, Father still grieves his death. I have so many questions I know will never get answered.” 

They had much in common, that’s where the friendship came from. Both Sizhui and Jin Ling were ferociously competitive and thirsted for knowledge in the same childish way. So when Sizhui reached out to hug the other, Jin Ling was easily accepting of the affection. The Cloud Recess frowned upon excessive emotions, but when Sizhui began to softly cry, Jin Ling was quick to fall into his own tears as they held onto each other. The death of their parents laid heavily between the two. 

“Stay the night,” Sizhui asked quietly, “I have room for two in my bed.” 

Jin Ling’s lips quirked into a smile, “Yeah, but only for you.” 

And they slept together, the warmth of their shared bodies created a soothing energy. Jin Ling kept his father’s sword close and Sizhui tied the ribbon to his wrist, unspoken words between them as they slept. 

The next morning when Jingyi found them, he scolded them both for having a sleep over without him. Sizhui looked to Jin Ling and they smiled at each other as they thought of what happened the hours before they were found. Would Jingyi really find crying about dead parents that fun? 

They decided to keep their bond a secret, turning their nose to the worried eyes of Teacher Lan. As he began teaching more they soon came to the lesson of the Sunshot campaign. 

Sizhui could feel the teacher’s eyes on him every time he said the name Wei Wuxian. It made his stomach clench and twist dangerously. 

“The Yiling Patriarch, even though he had cultivated demonic spirits, he was met with a gruesome end after he was killed. Lan Sizhui, how did the Yiling Patriarch die?” 

In a confused fashion, Sizhui raised up from his seat, “I apologize Teacher Lan, I have not learned this information?” 

He had never even known there was a person called the Yiling Patriarch. Maybe Father had kept those books away, he never did talk much about history outside of Gush. He pushed the importance of blade studies and math, but history was never brought up. 

Sizhui always assumed he was kept from history books outside of Gusu, because his mother was a part of them. He had become ignorant to the presence that his Mother had created. 

Teacher Lan should have blanched at him, but he schooled his expression. Raising one overgrown eyebrow and smiling gently, “I see, well the Yiling Patriarch was killed by Sect Leader Jiāng.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Sizhui bowed and then sat down, before turning to Jingyi with confused eyes. 

When class was over, Sizhui had suddenly been filled in with the history his Father regretted to answer. He stayed seated, hand moving into his hanfu sleeve to reveal the red ribbon that always resides up on his arm. 

Even when Teacher Lan dismissed class, Lan Sizhui stayed seated. Jingyi gave the other a slight push on the shoulder while Jin Ling leaned over him to stare at those cloudy brown eyes. 

“Sizhui, class is dismissed,” Jingyi laughed awkwardly, “You can get up for lunch!” 

Sizhui got another rough push from Jingyi after he wasn’t listening, “ah, what did you say?” He smiled, rubbing at his wounded shoulder. 

Jingyi laughed, looking at Jin Ling who was trying not to expose his laughter, “I said,” he made eye contact, “What did you do to Elder Lan, he grilled you with questions today.” 

“It was almost like he had a personal vendetta against you,” Jin Ling added brashly, glaring at the podium where the elder once sat. “It’s rude of him to point you out like that in class.” 

“Yeah!” Jingyi added unhelpfully. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Sizhui brushed off naturally, he was never one to hold grudges that tightly, “I’m sure he was targeting me since Hanguang-Jun was a part of the Sunshot campaign and he just assumed I knew the answers.” 

“Still.” Jin Ling didn’t let off with a huff. 

“Yeah!” Jingyi offered Sizhui a hand to help him up as he continued to talk, “my dad was in the campaign and he didn’t ask me any questions. So was Jin Ling’s dad-“ 

The boy suddenly blushed, hand letting go of Sizhui and almost making him fall back to place a comforting hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder, “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry for bringing your father up!” 

The youngest of the trio let out a huff, brushing Jingyi off before steadying Sizhui, “don’t worry Lan Jingyi, your words are true.” 

Jingyi laughed nervously, kicking the ground uselessly, “come on, I want to eat lunch today. We should also talk to Zewu-Jun about the lecture today.” 

“No! Not my uncle!” Sizhui gasped, stopping Jingyi from walking, “I’m sure whatever happened today won’t happen again, plus Zewu-Jun is very busy,” he covered up the worry with a cough, letting go of the tight grip of his friend’s wrist. 

Jingyi blinked at him words lost to him for once in his life, “okay I guess,” he stuttered, eyes looking for an exit from the intense situation. “Come on, I’ll forget after some good food.” 

“Good food? It’s the Cloud Recess, none of the food is good,” Jin Ling joined in the conversation, placing a friendly arm over Sizhui’s shoulder and pulled him close to hopefully ease the worry, “isn’t that right Sizhui, the food is bland.” 

“Bleh!” Jingyi stuck his tongue out. Sizhui laughed behind his hand, feeling the anxiety seep away slowly. “Hanguang-Jun makes very good food when we eat together, it has a little more flavor than the cafeteria food!” 

“See!” Jin Ling sneered, giving Jingyi a hearty push, “the food sucks!” 

“Hey!” 

Sizhui could only now watch as Jin Ling and Jingyi began chasing after each other, pushing and throwing punches. “Come on guys!” He tried to coax them out, but he could only fall victim to watching the two play with a fond smile. 

The whole situation was then forgotten. 

____❀____

The next day, the situation became much more persistent than the boys could ever imagine. Sizhui should have just stood up the entire lecture as the Elder used his questions to pull the lecture along. Jin Ling raised his hand once to ask about the confusing politics of Meng Yao, but was completely shot down with the question then reverted to Sizhui to answer. 

“Lecture is done.” The elder finished, clapping the ivory block on his desk to signal the end. Sizhui, still standing, blinked owlishly at Jingyi whose eyebrows were furrowed in anger. 

“That wasn’t a lecture!” Jingyi was quick to collect his friend, “that was an interrogation!” 

“I’m unsure of what just happened,” Sizhui muttered, rubbing the pain slowly coming to his head before habitually picking at his fingers, “Now I’m sure that the elder does not like me.” 

“He liked you at the beginning of the lecture!” Jin Ling countered crossing his arms in a huff, “he used you to scold me about not knowing the rules that one time!” 

"Perhaps I scored lower on the last quiz and this is punishment,” Sizhui ignored the two, walking in a daze towards the door.

Jingyi was the one to stand in front to get the brute force of his friend slamming into him, “no! My friend would never score low! I’m telling Zewu-Jun about this!” 

“I said don’t bother Zewu-Jun!” Sizhui yelled. 

“No shouting in the Cloud Recess,” a mild-mannered voice cut the two off.

Sizhui felt his whole soul drop through the floor as he slammed his hands together in a circle to bow to his Father, “Hanguang-Jun.” 

“Hanguang-Jun.” Jin Ling and Jingyi versed after him with a similar bow. 

Father was a cold kind of person, his personality couldn’t be read so easily by others with his deadpan expression and supposedly lack of emotion. Sizhui would beg to differ, right now Father’s eyebrow was slightly twitched up which was an indication he was confused. “Why bother Zewu-Jun,” he asked bluntly. 

Sizhui cheeks burned with the fire of every Wen clan member, as he became a sputtering mess. “Father,” he bowed, ignoring the embarrassment of breaking the familiarity rule. Father was his superior and he was supposed to respect him as a higher up, even if they were related, but due the situation called for it, “it’s nothing, just a slight misunderstanding in the lecture.”

“He’s watering down the situation!” Jingyi cut him off brashly. 

“Jingyi!” Sizhui hissed. 

“Excuse him Hanguang-Jun,” Jin Ling bowed again as Jingyi pushed Sizhui behind them, “we believe the lecturing elder is blatantly targeting Sizhui during class as an unsaid punishment.” 

“A-Yuan?” Father turned with concerned eyes, Sizhui couldn’t find himself to look in those worrying eyes, “explain,” he turned to the two boys. 

“We’re learning about the Sunshot campaign and Elder Lan didn’t even let Sizhui sit down with all the questions he asked!” Jingyi explained with fluttering hands. 

Noticing Hanguang-Jun’s growing anger, Jin Ling gave Jingyi a push to stop, “my uncle had told me you were apart of the Sunshot campaign,” he puffed out his chest with a grin, “maybe Elder Lan thought Sizhui knew more than anyone else. I don’t know why he didn’t ask me questions.” 

“What kind of questions,” Hanguang-Jun hissed, voice low in anger. 

“About everything! Especially ones about the Yiling Patriarch, those were his favorite.” 

Hanguang-Jun flourished his robes with a surprising growl, grabbing Sizhui by his upper arm to begin pulling him towards the Lan Mansion. Jingyi and Jin Ling yelped, rushing after their friend as he was forcefully brought into the Pavilion. 

Lan Qiren let out a disgruntled cough at the sight of all the boys in his office while Zewu-Jun looked rather pleased. “Wangji,” he greeted with a warm smile, “A-Yuan, good afternoon.” 

“Tell.” Hanguang-Jun grumbled, pushing Sizhui closer to the two. 

“Father you cannot be serious!” Sizhui yelped, massaging the bruise he surely would get on his left arm. 

“Serious. Tell.” 

Grandmaster and Zewu-Jun spared each other a look before looking at Hanguang-Jun who was showing more emotion than usual. His eyes were narrowed viciously, his lips formed a tight frown. 

Sizhui felt like he was an unruly child at this moment, actually finding himself glaring at his Father. Surely this lecture issue wasn’t so bad, it was a guest Elder and he would have been gone by the end of the week! However, Father has blown this out of proportion! 

“It’s not a big deal!” He snapped in an unbecoming way, feeling his anger push out in such a naturally gooey way, “the lecturing Elder has decided to punish me with lessons about the Sunshot campaign!” 

“The Sunshot campaign,” Grandmaster hummed, stroking his graying beard. 

Eyes turned to Hanguang-Jun who had now grabbed Jingyi, forcing him beside Sizhui. He made a gesture for the young disciple to speak, causing a flush to appear on his cheeks, “he was targeting questions about the Yiling Patriarch today,  sir.” 

Immediately, Zewu-Jun stood up, eyes wide. “Who is the elder!” 

Sizhui and Jingyi took a step back at the tone of the usually calm Sect leader. “I uh-“ Sizhui stuttered, hands clasping at his chest, “please, it’s not a big deal Uncle.” 

“A-Yuan, quiet.”  Father snapped, brandishing his sleeve, “Elder Lan has spoken to me after Jin Rulan and Lan Sizhui have become friends.” 

Zewu-Jun closed his eyes, something he always did when he was trying to school his emotions. Sizhui took a step away to Jin Ling, looking at each other. “How do you want to deal with this,” he asked, opening his eyes, “brother, before you say anything, how would Wei Ying deal with this.” 

That phrase enough made Father let out a slow angered sigh, something he did quite often. Sizhui grabbed ahold of his father’s hanfu, eyes wide as they had an intense stare contest. 

“Mama?” He asked so quietly it barely came out as a syllable and more a movement of his lips. 

Father’s eyebrows went down slowly, the anger turning into slow pity. “Sizhui,” he went to a knee, holding the boy’s shoulders tightly to ground him in the situation, “we think the teacher is rudely targeting you. The Yiling Patriarch is your mother.” 

And there it was. Sizhui always knew he was different from every other Lan and now he knew why. It wasn’t right, but the lesson was enough to tell him what happened. His mother was the Yiling Patriarch, the one who took a group of surviving Wen cultivators. The one that was the first master of demonic spells. This man was his mother. 

“School your expression,” father's face was stern, “the lesson you were given was to create a prejudice towards your mother, those actions are not who he truly was.” 

Taking a look around, everyone had a different expression. However Jin Ling was absent. Uncle Qiren, who was usually angry over everything, seemed to look down at the table. 

“The Yiling Patriarch is your mom?” Jingyi voice broke through, as he grabbed Sizhui by the shoulder and away from his father, “that’s so cool!” 

Sizhui couldn’t help but laugh, feeling tears begin to roll down his cheeks. The secret was out and it felt so damn good. 

___❀___

A few days after the unveiling event, Jiāng Cheng got a confusing letter telling him that he was in need to pick up his nephew. Of course at that moment, a hot flash of anger ran up his spine with the thought of “what did that brat do?” 

However, after reading it over multiple times he came to the conclusion that if Jin Ling did get in trouble it would have probably told him so, even if the vagueness of the letter was suspicious. Even more suspicious that it was vague AND written by Lan Wangji. 

In the end, he mounted his sword at the break of dawn and hauled ass to the Cloud Recess. 

Touching down on the soft ground, memories came to him like a lonely spirit. He could practically hear the sound of a familiar laugh. Actually... 

Jiāng Cheng's lips went into a tight line as he peered around a rock to view two teens messing around in the river. That laugh, it sounded just like his older brother’s. 

Most people saw him as a cold hearted asshole, but Jiāng Cheng has loved a lot of people in life. He loved his mother and father, he loved his sister, adored the nephew she gave him, and on some occasions he missed his obnoxious older brother. Right now was that moment, watching the smaller boy cup his hands in the rushing waters and splash it on the taller. He let out a surprise gasp before retaliating with his own splash. 

“Jiāng Wanyin.” The very person called jumped out of his bones, before turning around to meet the cold expressionless face of Hanguang-Jun (or maybe his brother-in-law he wasn’t very sure on the eloping matters that his older brother was capable of doing) 

To save face and not look like he was peeping on a bunch of juniors, Jiāng Cheng bowed deeply, “Lan Wangji,” he stood up with a firm look, trying to match the fighting authority in the air, “good morning, I just got here and I got distracted. I don’t remember your disciples getting that much leeway when I studied here years ago.” 

The tall boy let out his mimicking laugh, Jiāng Cheng watched as the man in front of him let his shoulder drop with a small smile (or whatever kind of smile Lan Wangji was capable of creating.) 

“His laugh reminds me of Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji turned towards the rushing river. “This is about A-Yaun and A-Ling, I was afraid to put too much personal information in the letter.” 

At first Jiāng Cheng was absent of the mind, almost confused on why the two boys would be the topic of conversation, but then the face of Jin Zixuan appeared in his head and burned with it’s unholy pain. 

Words escaped him, just letting out a breath and looking out to Sizhui and his friend playing in the river. “I thought we said we would avoid telling the boys the past.” 

“I planned to, but a teacher in the lectures began targeting Sizhui about Wei Ying and I had to tell him,” the sincereness of his voice, a very earnest trait the Lan’s all seemed to have, was enough to sedate the anger brewing. “I haven’t spoken to Jin Ling, but you’ve told me before that he resented Wei Ying,” he paused, his hand tightening around Bichen, “I don’t want him to resent Sizhui for the faults of his mother.” 

“It sounds like something Jin Ling would do,” Jiāng Cheng muttered with a slight pout, of course the headstrong brat would react this way. “Do you wish me to remove him from the lectures, he can always come back next year.” 

“Only if he wishes to leave,” Lan Wangji shrugged, “come along, I think it’s only polite if we have tea and continue our conversation.” 

Without even an answer, Lan Wangji turned around and started heading up the path. Jiāng Cheng took one last glance at the playing boys and found a soft smile growing on his usual frowning lips. 

"If only Wei Ying could see you Lan Sizhui,” he thought with slight amusement and slight forlonging. Much to his own disappointment, he stepped away to follow his brother-in-law. 

___❀___ 

 The tea was bitter, medical, but what did Jiāng Cheng even expect from the other. “Is this really the tea you give guests?” He sneered, setting the jade cup harshly on it’s partnered saucer. 

“If I knew you’d get here so early I would have made a more favorable kind,” Lan Zahn, probably the most polite and petty person on the planet hummed. 

To not lose face or be an awful guest (something Jiāng Cheng was rather familiar with from his temper) he drank the damn medical tasting tea and hoped it didn’t rot the lining of his stomach. 

Looking up he caught sight of his brother-in-law and felt a sort of longing. Lan Zhan, even though he was kind of a prick, was a kind hearted man. He followed the rules, but he allowed leeway for those who are in need. When he met Wei Ying, he remembered the two were constantly at each other’s throats. Or more of his older brother pestering to get attention and annoyance on Lan Zhan’s part. They found a mutual and deep love for each other, only something the two people in question could understand so fully. 

Wei Ying loved how kind Lan Zhan was, and the other adored how selfless his partner could be, even to people who were the lowest of the low. 

He never could really understand his brother, though he swore to know the other the best. He had told him they'd be together forever and here Jiang Cheng sat as an orphan with no family. What gives Wei Ying the right to decide other's fate, to rewrite someone's destiny to just rip up his own destiny. He was a self sacrificing idiot who left behind a son and a broken husband.

After the excommunication from the Jiāng Clan, he and Wei Ying lost all contact. Lan Zhan was the one to tell him of the pregnancy the two were facing, in almost a plea he asked if Jiāng Cheng could find a way to convince Wei Ying to leave the Burial Mountains so he could give birth in Gusu. However, Jiāng Cheng knew his brother and he knew that asshole well. Wei Ying wasn’t going to let anyone in his way and if he wanted to have Wen Qing deliver the baby, then it was his choice. It wasn’t until the week of Hell as most liked to call it where the Ghost General caused the death of Jin Zixuan and the massacre at the Nightless City that led to Jiāng Yanli’s death. 

It left Jing Ling an orphan and it was terrifying to say the least. Jiāng Cheng took care of his nephew the best way he knew, he raised the boy to be strong, but he seemed to pick up his stubborn trait. In the end he would never forgive his older brother for the tragedy that he created, but that didn’t mean he had to take it out on his grieving husband and son. 

Hanguang-Jun looked to be a definition of mourning, his dark hair lying against an all white robe. There wasn’t even a speck of blue, some liked to say the Second Jade looked like a kind gentleman that spent his time in the spirit realm.

He and Hanguang-Jun had something in common and it was missing a part of their family. 

While Jiāng Cheng got lost in thought, he found himself back in the tea room to the noise of the screen door sliding open with a loud bang. Hanguang-Jun didn’t even flinch, his eyes just slowly moving to where the door was and letting a soft sigh into his tea. 

Jin Ling stomped his way into the room, eyebrows taut and lips twisted into an ugly snarl. “Why are you here?” He asked with no formality. 

“Because I heard you were causing trouble, sit brat,” he ordered, taking a jade cup and saucer from the small box and Lan Zhan poured out some tea. 

The brat just growled, before taking a seat. The second guest arrived in a short time, Sizhui looked so much like Wei Ying it hurt. 

His hair pulled in a curly ponytail and a soft smile playing on his lips (a more serene one, rather than mischievous). “Father,” he greeted with a postured bow, “sect leader Jiāng,” he also greeted. 

Jiāng Cheng just bobbed his head at the acknowledgement, “take a seat A-Yuan,” Lan Zhan was the one to speak, “You aren’t in trouble, don’t look so worried.” 

The boy didn’t look worried, but the Lans were horrible at expressions so he assumed it was some kind of father and son telepathy. When Sizhui sat, he offered a soft smile to Jin Ling who just snorted and turned his nose at the other. 

Jiāng Cheng couldn’t help his hand when it connected with the back of the boy’s head making him lurch forward with a gasp, “Don’t be rude, he’s your cousin.” 

The words felt gummy and thick in his mouth. It’s been a while since he acknowledged Sizhui as his nephew. “I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to cause such a ruckus between our families,” Sizhui, the perfect angel, bowed to both parties. 

“I said you’re not in trouble Sizhui,” Lan Zhan reminded with a slight amusement in his tone. The boy just blushed and looked at his tea cup. “Jin Rulan,” Lan Zhan turned to stare down his nephew, “you are also not in trouble, do not listen to your uncle.” 

“And what? Listen to you,” Jin Ling sniffed, his lip curling up in annoyance. 

“Jin Ling,” Jiāng Cheng couldn’t hold back his snap, “you are making this situation worse, you don’t even know what is going on!” 

“Oh I know what’s going on,” the younger man slammed his cup on the saucer causing the liquid to jostle around and over the rim. Sizhui jumped, his hands curling towards his chest like he was ready to hide if that cup came at him. 

“Pray to tell what you think this is about,” Lan Zhan asked, his voice void of any emotions. It was as if he was as neutral as rushing waters. 

Jin Ling narrowed his eyes like he was walking into a trap, “why did you even let me befriend that bastard of Wei Wuxian.” 

The words should have been a stab, because Sizhui recoiled like it. Jin Ling pointed an accusatory finger that Lan Zhan chopped down and protectively placed an arm across his son’s shoulder. 

“You brat!” Jiāng Cheng sighed more to himself than anyone else. How did he actually think this situation was going to be civil. 

His nephew held grudges like the dead and here he was trying to coax him out. “I never got to choose who my mom is.” Sizhui's voice was calm, but his hand that was holding his father’s arm clenched dangerously, “I still don’t even know why you hate him so much!” 

Sizhui... Gods. Jiāng Cheng could only set his face in his palm as Jin Ling let out an unholy screech that formed into an ugly sob, “your mother killed my parents! I hate you so much!” 

Wei Ying’s child face morphed into the saddest expression no child should be able to make. “I-I” He was at a loss of words. 

“Sizhui has done nothing to you!” Jiāng Cheng decided to step in, holding back his nephew with a strong hand. 

“I don’t care!” Jin Ling cried as he was practically dragged out of the room, hurling every insult known to man at the older boy, “I hate you! You will never be related to me! I hope you rot in hell.” 

"That is enough!” Jiāng Cheng pushed him out, giving Lan Zhan one more look. He had never seen the Jade ever touch someone with so much care, other than his brother. He was practically cradling Sizhui to his chest, one hand cupping the back of his son’s head to soothingly stroke his hair. 

They spoke with no words, just a stare of what needed to be done. Jin Ling was leaving the Cloud Recess and he was not coming back. 

Shutting the Jingshi’s door, he could only sigh as he turned to his fuming nephew. “Why did you never tell me Wei Wuxian had a bastard child.” 

Jiāng Cheng just kept walking, he had no true answer. Maybe a little bit of him hoped that Jin Ling would never know his older brother’s family. Sizhui was just an innocent child, thrown into the messy drawer that his mother had to leave behind. Jin Ling didn’t stop his stomping until he was out of the Cloud Recess, just dragging his feet and looking at the ground. 

“Anger...” Jiāng Cheng trailed off as he stood in the path, “anger is only temporary Jin Ling. However, so is family. Don’t let emotions ruin a relationship with your cousin.” 

“Aren’t you mad at him too?” 

“I’m not going to take it out on his family,” he retaliated back hotly, “have you ever wondered why Lan Sizhui and Lan Wangji only ever wear white?” 

That was enough to shut up Jin Ling. He didn’t speak after that and Jiāng Cheng couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse. 

___❀___

“A-Yuan...” Sizhui's mind felt like it was in a fog, his chest felt hot with endless energy while his feet were frigid like he stuck them in the snow. 

A hand came in his vision, one that gently pushed a strand of hair out of his face. There was a forming scent growing in the air, one that smelled like a freshly bloomed lotus and just a hint of an ashy camp fire. 

A smile formed on the boy’s face as the hand moved from his hand to his cheek to gently stroke the soft skin. “My baby,” the person's voice was barely a whisper, “look at how grown you are.”

“Mama,” he whined trying to reach out a hand since he found he was unable to sit up. All his memories of his mother had been so fond, even dreams like these felt so warm and cozy. There was something different to this one, the hazy fog that covered the room had become thick and the warmth of pinks and orange were darkening like a furious sunset. 

“Mother?” He called out in the dust, “mother where are you!” 

He thrashed in his tied down position, the hand against his cheek was freezing cold, like the hand of a corpse. “Mother!” He screamed into the abyss. 

"A-Yuan!” Mother’s voice called back in an echo. 

“Wake up Sizhui!” 

With a gasp of breath, Sizhui jolted up in his bed, hands clenched in the fabric of his blanket. A concern Jingyi was hovering over him, his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. 

“Are you alright?” He fussed immediately, putting his hand on Sizhui’s sweaty forehead to feel his temperature, “You were screaming in here!” 

Sizhui, in a daze pressed his hand to his cheek where the phantom feeling of his mother had branded itself in his mind, “Yeah... just a night terror I think.” 

Jingyi smiled warmly and doesn’t dwell on what the dream was truly about, which Sizhui is thankful about. After the discovery of his mother’s origin a lot of information was placed on lockdown. 

Father was curt with answers, but honest with any question Sizhui had. Mother was a character alright. Father had placed in his best terms that Mother was a troublemaker, but he had good morals. Whatever prejudice that was forced on Sizhui he didn’t allow it to taint the memory of his mother. 

One night, before Sizhui had turned in for bed he caught his father lingering at his door. He told of memories, of mother’s intelligence, and therefore lack of it too. 

The way Father spoke of Mother was a sight to behold, Sizhui could see the love that shone in usual dull eyes. The light smile that he wore when he told him that Mother used to pester him everyday. 

Jin Ling wasn’t wrong when he called him a bastard, but at least he knew his parents loved him so so much. 

After collecting his thoughts, Jingyi shifted from foot to foot as he offered Sizhui his robe and headband. “We need to get going, Hanguang-Jun told me to get you! We’re going night hunting!!” 

“Night hunting?” Sizhui asked dumbly as he began tying on the complicated Hanfu. “When has he ever let us out to night hunt?” 

Jingyi shrugged, “I don’t know, something about giving us an experience, I was too busy being excited!” 

“Of course you were!” 

____❀____

The Mo Manor was a rather beautiful building with it’s clean garden and wide sloping roofs. It was almost like there wasn’t a threat of an evil spirit inside.

The madam of the house was sickly polite, leading them to the Great Hall to discuss the cleansing. It almost seemed like this would be an easy first hunt. 

However, fate wasn’t that easily manipulated. In comes a man that also apparently studied in Gusu, his hair a curly mess pulled haphazardly back and a stone mask covering his facial features. 

Sizhui was almost impressed at this guy’s display of madness. The youngest Mo chastised the other about being out of his room while the (probably) older Mo, asked for his stolen things. Just a minute, he broke from his mischievous smile to show a semblance of intelligence. 

The brother chased each other around and when it got rather too rough, Sizhui decided to step in. The masked Mo got away when the time allowed him and before Madam Mo could follow after him to probably punish the boy, Sizhui stood in front of her. 

After explaining their plan for tonight (take the Stygian lure flags and then fight what comes to their beckoning) he found himself a little hesitant when she agreed so willingly to his terms, because her eyes said otherwise. 

The mad man, Senior Mo as he called the other was very interested in what they were doing. He even tried to steal a flag to look at the paint, his eyes keen and searching for any type of mistake. Though Jingyi may have thought this man was a terrifying mistake, Sizhui could tell he was far more intelligent than he let on. 

As nightfall began, Sizhui took the place of the leader to instruct everyone to get in position. It was rather uneventful as the night dragged on, holding out his own little flag and waiting for some spirit to fall into their trap. Something caught him when the sweet noise of music began it’s gentle sway towards his young ears. It sounded so familiar, something he heard so many times it was branded into his brain. 

Memories of being tucked tightly into bed, but still watching Father as he played this tune on the guquin. 

"Hey Jingyi? Doesn’t that tune sound familiar?” He asked, opening his eyes and looking over. 

Jingyi did the same action, lowering his flag just a bit in surprise, “I mean I guess, you probably know more about Gusu music than I do.” 

The music came to an abrupt stop and what replaced it was loud yelling of a mob of people. Senior Mo’s voice intermingled with them. The two boys just had to make eye contact before they jumped off the roof and towards the chaos that was ensuing. 

The sequence of the night seemed to be narrowing the favors of the young cultivators. Sizhui had closed his eyes and wished that Father had followed, he would know what to do. Suddenly, the circular firework in Sizhui’s robe felt like led. Of course he had his signal to beckon Father to their area. Quickly, he thrusted his sword into his holster and struggled to pull it out. 

“What are you doing?” Jingyi hissed, nursing the shallow wound on his arm from the undead Madam Mo. 

“I’m signaling Hanguang-Jun,” Sizhui explained simply, “this has gone over our heads, we are not high enough cultivators.” 

“Hanguang-Jun?” Senior Mo butted into their conversation, his voice sounding almost worried, “we got this, we don’t need him.” 

“Is he in the area?” Jingyi asked ignorantly ignoring the other. 

Sizhui nodded, deciding he was going to ignore Senior Mo as well, the guy was kind of crazy even if he had some semblance of intelligence in him. “He’s about an hour away in a inn.” 

“An hour?” Jingyi blanched back, “he told us he was letting us go on our own!” 

“He was just worried,” Sizhui protested, pulling out the firework in his robe and handing it to Jingyi, “it’s my personal one.” 

Jingyi looked down at his hands at the firework, before letting it off, ignoring Mo’s protest. The sky bursted with the blue symbol with a little red hinting in the middle. 

“Jingyi! Come help us!” A disciple who was struggling to hold down Master Mo’s body yelped. 

Sizhui looked up to the sky with Senior Mo, he clasped his hands and bowed his head, “mother, please bring him with haste,” he whispered ignoring the shocked look on the senior’s face before he rushed to help his friends. 

Or friend at least, all the disciples in his team liked him enough to promote him as the speaker, but something in the back of his mind told him the only reason they did that, was because of who his father was. 

Jingyi was his only true friend, the one who knew the truth of his mother and his confusing childhood of struggling to deal with the unknown grief of a parent.

Smiling at the other, Jingyi's face split into a huge grin as they ran together to restrain Madam Mo. The current thing possessing her was probably summoned by the Stygian lure flag and it made his gut clench with the realization he couldn’t save the people in the manor from the one thing he was instructed to do. 

Father once said, “not everyone can be saved,” and why it stuck with him in this situation was hard to decipher, but when the powerful arm came at him, Jingyi was pushed by Senior Mo to stand in front of his friend. 

The protection spell in their robe lit up like the firework they just shot off. Hastily, Jingyi discarded his outer robe and glared at Senior Mo who promised he didn’t do it. The mischief in eyes told Sizhui otherwise. 

The bad was turning to worse, as the corpse began rising and when Sizhui thought he was going to be visiting Mother in heaven the noise of the guqin came to his rescue. The unruly corpses crouched down, soothed by battle strums. 

Looking up, his father looked ethereal with wind blowing in his hair and eyes narrowed in a sheen of protectiveness. The three corpses now slowly lowered themselves to the ground, hands trying to cover their ears. 

“Hanguang-Jun!” The juniors all shouted in excitement, Jingyi grasping at Sizhui’s shoulder with a smile that could only be relief. The senior jumped down from the roof, flicking away his guqin with a burst of blue mist. 

He looked over everyone, no student misplaced as he assessed wounds. “Sizhui,” He asked when he got to his own son, thumbing at a small cut to his cheek that had already scabbed up, “Jingyi,” he greeted the other, ruffling the boy’s hair as if he fathered the two. 

“I’m not hurt Father, Senior Mo has taken good care of us!” Sizhui confirmed with an air of gratitude. He turned around to see where the mad man had disappeared to, but only found the empty Hall. “Where did Senior Mo go off to?” He asked Jingyi. 

“I don’t know, it was your turn to watch him,” Jingyi joked, but when he got a stern stare from the identical boys he put up his hands with a smile, “ehehe I’m just joking! We’d got to see him someday, we’ll thank him later!” 

Hanguang-Jun’s eyes were solemn as he nodded, “praise the good. Don’t forget those who save your life.” 

All the juniors bowed at the words of advice from their righteous senior, Sizhui could only just nod, feeling the words would mean more in a different mindset. 

____❀____

The next time they find Senior Mo, he is with Jin Ling. The boy alone made Sizhui want to curl up and hide. Father had taken to the front of the line, ignoring the way Jiāng Cheng stood before him with a disgruntled Jin Ling beside him. 

Father and Uncle Cheng exchanged hot words with each other, they were known to and Sizhui always wondered how their relationship seemed to go from allies to enemies at the drop of a hat. 

“-or are you out here looking for someone?” Uncle Cheng sneered with a grin. 

A hot flash went through Sizhui as he brought a hand to his chest to sedate his palpitating heart. “What is that suppose to mean!” Jingyi's voice picked up. 

The mood going over the clans was becoming too tense for Sizhui to handle, he always had to find a way to calm situations. “Excuse me, Sect Leader Jiāng,” he bowed deeply, “there are many nets around this area, night hunts are supposed to be a friendly competition, it makes the common people find difficulties to even walk around Dafan Mountains.” 

“The common people?” Jin Ling went to the defense immediately, “they shouldn’t be so incompetent to walk into our nets, or do they share brain cells with you?” 

“Hey!” Jingyi barked, stepping out of line. 

“Stand down Lan Jingyi,” Hanguang-Jun coaxed the other down with a firm hand to the shoulder. 

“I’d like to talk after I catch my prey,” Jin Ling went on in his usual pompous way. He went on to speak, but his mouth glued shut to his mouth. The junior let out a few muffled squeaks as he turned to Uncle Cheng to point at his mouth. 

“Hanguang-Jun!” Uncle Cheng yelled, “it isn’t your right to punish him!” 

Father's face was calm, disinterested leaking from cold eyes. “He is my nephew.” He stated bluntly. 

Leave it to Father with his precise sentences to go and piss off Uncle Cheng, however it was a rather easy thing to do. Sizhui decided to step in and bow again, “sect leader Jiāng, please don’t be mad,” He soothed, “the silencing spell will not harm him, it will be lifted in time.” 

“Lift the damn spell Lan Wangji!” Jiāng Cheng snarled, his fist squeezed tightly to his side like he was fighting the urge to punch Father. 

“Sect leader! Sect leader!” A different voice rang into the conversation. 

Uncle Cheng looked over and did the biggest eye roll Sizhui had ever witnessed from a Senior. “What is the bad news?” He asked with a sigh. 

“A glowing blue sword has destroyed all our nets!” The underling bowed while speaking in a hectic form. Sizhui and Jingyi looked at each other with a blush, they were the one who had destroyed them on Father’s order. 

The anger that lit itself in Jiāng Chang’s eyes almost made Sizhui want to hide behind Father’s wide shoulders like an unruly child, “how many?” 

“All of them!!” 

The adults looked at each other, Father feigning all emotion to simply glare. “400 spirit nets?” Uncle was impressed and furious at the same time. Jin Ling beside him made another loud hum of fury, glaring at Sizhui, “well done Lan clan of Gusu.” 

It was a sneer, a glare at all the juniors that stood behind the senior who gave them such an order. Sizhui took a step inside the line so he was hidden behind Father, his hand coming up to grip the sleeve of the other’s hanfu. To say he was intimidated by his Uncle and Cousin was an understatement, he was terrified of them. 

Uncle Jiāng looked down at his sparking hand, nose scrunched up in fury before the deep lines in his forehead relaxed slightly. “Jin Ling,” he turned to the boy, who straightened his shoulders, “Hanguang-Jun is giving you a punishment, just take it. Off you go.” 

The underling to the Jiāng tribe went off with hasty feet while Jin Ling still stood beside his uncle with a look of shock. “Didn’t you hear me! Do you think the prey will kill itself, if you can’t catch a monster don’t come back to me.” 

Jingyi beside him snickered behind his hand, but was shot down by the unholy wrath of Jin Ling. He glared one last time before bowing to both seniors and ran off to collect his hilt. 

“Uh Sect Leader Jiāng,” Sizhui pipped up, letting go of Father’s sleeve slowly, “we in Gusu clan will return the 400 nets we cut down.” 

“There is no need Sizhui,” Jiāng Cheng bit back, “Just all of you stay out of my sight.” And off he walked with enough anger to shake the earth with the stomp of his boot. 

When the silence became unbearable, Father turned to the juniors and asserted orders. Before Sizhui could run away and lose himself in his work, Father grabbed him by the upper arm, “don’t find trouble and especially avoid Jin Ling.” 

“Yes Father.” Sizhui whispered with a bow. 

“You too Jingyi, heed my advice,” 

The younger boy let out a surprise gasp, before nodding like a bobble head. 

Hanguang-Jun let out a sigh, watching the boys get out of sight, before his eyes brought him back to that suspicious Mo fellow who had been hiding behind the tree this whole time. 

The young man didn’t even try to thank him for saving him from Jin Ling’s blade, though when he replayed the scene the fighting style was a copy of his Wei Ying’s Yiling style. 

His heart told him that this young man had to be his beloved, but another part of him to not get his hopes up. Wei Ying was dead, soul ripped apart so bad he couldn’t even reach the man through inquiry. 

Though, was it so bad to pretend? 

Chapter Text

My Pride and My Prejudice

Chapter 2 - Anger

___❀___

Much to everyone’s surprise, Lan Zhan had known about Sizhui for a very long time. Wei Ying was never one to hide things from his devoted partner, so when he collapsed during a night hunt due to exhaustion he let the cat out of the bag. 

He’s pregnant. About five months now. 

They decided to keep it a secret, both agreeing it would be a very bad time to reveal such sensitive information while the Sunshot campaign was still raging on. 

Wei Ying was also an expert at hiding the bump, you would have to stare really hard at his abdomen before you just thought he gained a few pounds. His signature black hanfu he wore on top slimmed his body, but under it was an exciting life. 

Though, he didn’t get to see much of the growing since Wei Ying was hiding all the way up in the Burial Mountain. His beloved had priorities, and it was to keep the Wens he helped safe, but at what cost. 

News reached him fast from an anonymous letter telling him that Wei Ying had been stabbed in the abdomen by Jiang Cheng. He sat there in shock, rereading over the neat logogram until his eyes physically hurt. 

His brother, Xichen, was unfortunately the carrier of the letter, stating he found the suspicious letter left at the gates. Since it was addressed to Lan Zhan in it’s informality, he believed it must have been from Wei Wuxian. 

Lan Zhan abruptly stood from his low table, hand sweeping across the guqin to put it back in his bag and Xichen dodged Bichen that flew into his brother’s white knuckles fist. 

Before the other could leave, Xichen grabbed him by the shoulder, “What did the letter say? Was it bad news?” 

“Terrible news,” Wangji bluntly replied, thrusting the letter into his brother’s hand. 

Dark eyes scanned the characters, lips curling down in a slight frown, “Wangji, this says Young Master Wei has sustained an abdominal injury. Surely he will recover nicely.” 

Lan Zhan gave him a blank look, but from years of learning the other’s minor expression, Xichen could see the worried flames in golden eyes, “the baby.” 

Those words alone created a gap so large between the brothers, Xichen was unsure how it got so far. Baby? What about a baby? Looking at the letter, his eyes went to abdominal and baby, with just a second he felt his heart sink. 

“Wei Ying is pregnant?” He asked and also stated, like saying the words aloud was to convince himself that his assumption was false. However, Lan Zhan’s eyes were cold, unmoving, with no sign of a joke in the air. “How could you keep this from me?” 

“It is a secret,” his brother kept moving, out the door and down the Jingshi’s steps in much haste, “someone could use it against us.” 

“How do you know it’s yours?” 

That was enough to finally make the other turn around, his face furious, “Wei Ying is faithful.” 

The memory of Lan Zhan asking him to hide away a person in Gusu was loud in Xichen’s brain. At the time he thought it was some mysterious girl, maybe someone with the Wen name. No. He was talking about Wei Wuxian. “What if he’s manipulating you?” Xichen snapped, finally the string of patience snapping. 

Wangji was much quicker, his hand unsheathing Bichen to create a space between the two. “What are you insinuating?” 

“Does uncle know?” Xichen reached out a hand to touch the blade, pushing it away from his throat. 

“He won’t.” 

His brother had strayed so far, it’s almost like Xichen didn’t even recognize the other. Wangji used to be so shy and rule abiding, but at this moment Xichen didn’t even want to start counting all the rules that were being broken. 

Wangji would leave in haste, Xichen's mouth was glued shut to anyone who asked about his whereabouts. After his brother left, he burned the letter and simply told Uncle that a few juniors needed help with a night hunt. 

Without the presence of the other, it gave Xichen time to think. The time he used to mediate had turned into a brainstorm of how he would talk to his brother when he got back. He’d ask about the baby, even ready to comfort Wangji if the injury caused Wei Wuxian to lose it. 

Though, the time that Wangji touched down back in the Cloud Recess, all the questions died in his throat. He ran into an embrace, squeezing the other tightly. He wasn’t expecting the other to hug him back, but the feeling warmed his heart when those hesitant hands fisted the back of his robe. 

“Is everything okay?” He found his wary voice, “Wei Wuxian? The baby?” 

“Everyone is okay,” the breath, Xichen didn’t know he was holding, was released gently. “It sliced at his hip, Wen Qing only messaged me, because she believed I should have known being the father.” 

Wen Qing... he knew that name. She was a cousin of Wen Ruohan and an expert of medicine. It was probably a good thing that Wei Wuxian was in her care in the kind of state he was in. “Did she say anything more about the baby?” 

“She filled me in, against Wei Ying’s wishes,” Wangji muttered, rubbing at his elbow, “brother, I’m going to have a son in three months.” 

The pride that filled Xichen’s chest knew no bounds as he embraced the other again. This time it felt happier, “I’m happy for you brother, however what to do you mean it was against his will?” 

Wangji’s lips went into a tight line as he slowly took off his headband. Flipping it over he showed the metal piece had Wei Ying’s name engraved in it. That meant that Wei Wuxian must have Wangji’s headband. 

It was a common practice in the Lan clan, that when a member is thinking of courting someone, they would give their partner their headband that had their name engraved on it. This was to symbolize that the wearer was always thinking of the person whose name is engraved against their forehead. 

“A proposal?” He blanched. 

“I gave it to A-Yuan,” Wangji had said instead, “Wei Wuxian will not come to Gusu and that also means the child will not either. I will respect his wishes.” 

“I have many speculations of why he won’t come to Gusu,” Xichen muttered feeling the engraving. Everything may have changed, but Wei Wuxian was a troublemaker at best and those rules would hold him back. 

The man gave a solemn nod, agreeing gently, “Yes, I don’t wish to hold him back. We discussed the possibility of A-Yuan wishing to be a cultivator, then he’d come here.” 

“And what about you?” Xichen blinked, “Don’t you want to be A-Yuan’s life?” 

“I’ll stay here until the end of the war, then I’ll discuss my departure with Uncle.” 

In the future, Xichen should have forced his brother to go. The war shouldn’t have kept the two partners apart, but without Lan Zhan to escort Wei Ying to Jin Ling’s one month celebration, maybe Jin Zixuan wouldn’t be dead. 

The days after that were hell, Xichen felt like everyday brought bad news. The fight at Nevernight was the icing on the cake. Wei Ying has succumbed to the resentful energy after Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and a mysterious child that Xichen had a dark feeling was A-Yuan, turned themselves into the Jin sect. 

His mind couldn’t stop repeating his brother’s cry for his partner as he fell from the cliff. Jiang Cheng glaring down at the man who killed both his sister and brother-in-law. 

Wangji was promptly arrested by the sect and whipped like he was an animal for attacking members of his own sect for the sake of his partner. Xichen found his knees weak as he stood in front of Uncle, begging for him to have mercy. He told him that Wangji was grieving, he wasn’t thinking straight, that he lost so much in one night, but those pleas had fallen onto deaf ears. 

Finally, Uncle had stopped to assault, leaving Wangji crumpled in the ground, his back was unrecognizable with the blood and gore that gushed freely through the white robe. Xichen hugged the crumpled boy, not caring as the warm blood seeped into his own robe. 

Most of the time, his brother was a rock. His emotions were always in check, and opinion firm. Hearing his brother sob so brokenly, it broke Xichen’s heart. Everything was taken away from him in one night. His partner, his son, his freedom, his home, and for what? Love? 

“Wangji, let's get you cleaned up,” he offered, helping the other to rise to his feet. 

“I need to go,” Wangji hissed through a breath of pain, limping in the direction of the exit. 

Xichen grasped the other by the elbow, pulling him back roughly, “heavens! What is wrong with you Wangji! Wei Wuxian is dead,” he hated the way his brother flinched, “please just rest,” he pleaded. 

With little strength he had, Wangji threw his brother off and jumped on Bichen. The ride was shaky at best, the blood was drying in an uncomfortable fashion and every time he tried to bend a little his whole spine screamed. 

Touching down in the Burial Mountains, He sloppily walked up the path, past the ruined force field and down the tree ridden path to reach the destroyed city. Lan Zhan felt his legs give out as he fell to the ground, all his held in tears came down in tracks at all the bodies that laid. 

He had just been here. These Wens were all full of life! Now they laid there with cloudy eyes and mouths hung open in an unforgiven gape. Some had their chest opened up, the ribs pushed aside to let the vultures destroy the vital insides. 

‘Those animals,’ were all he could think, gripping the ground as a silent scream ripped through his strained throat. ‘Those lunatics, how could they do this to innocent people!’

His vision was failing him as the smog of resentful energy swirled around his body, the blood that dried on his back began to crack as he bent over to press his cheek to the cool ground. His breathing wasn’t healthy, a heavy rasp at anything. 

That’s until he heard a noise. It sounded almost like an injured animal, so hesitant and terrified. 

Blindly searching the ground, Lan Zhan lifted Bichen and stood up. If an animal was in pain, he wouldn’t hesitate to ease its suffering. However a terrifying thought jumped into his head. 

No animal lived in the Burial Mountain. The only thing there was the vultures and crows that circled the mountains from time to time. 

Someone was alive? It almost seemed like stupid hope that he instantly thought of Wei Ying, softly whimpering in hiding. Would they embrace, he thought as he slowly followed the sound, or would Wei Ying scream at him for not standing by his side during the siege. 

The soft whimpering came from a tree and through further inspection he found a black mass in a hollow cavity in the trunk. Blinking oddly at the mass, he moved it away to feel the soft fabric of a robe to appear.... an infant. But? Wasn’t A-Yuan dead? Ashes spread across the Nightless city?

The sharp cry Lan Zhan made could only be from shock as he revealed more of the newborn from its hiding place. It was wrapped in a red under-robe and around the baby’s small head was the blue ribbon he had given Wei Ying months earlier when he had visited for the first time. 

His hands were shaking as he placed his fingers on the infant’s small chest, it’s pale face and tired eyes let out a soft coo. “A-Yuan?” He asked more to himself, knowing the baby couldn’t answer. 

Though with his features alone, he could only know it was his son. A surge of happiness in the horrible days that passed was unbecoming as he embraced the soft newborn to his chest, letting out a sob of happiness. 

Wei Ying at least left him with one gift to remember him by.

___❀___

Sizhui could only watch in horror as Uncle Cheng’s Zidian appeared and slammed into Senior Mo’s back. It was almost comical to watch the small man flung high in the air from the force and then fall clumsy to the dirt ground. The senior didn’t seem to compose himself as he began voicing his displeasure of being whipped. 

Instead of giving up, Jiang Cheng threw his arm back ready to give another cruel attack, but Jingyi (Jingyi!) spoke up. He made some long speech about how the first class spiritual weapon could send the spirit away, so if it didn’t work the first time, why in the world was he trying again! 

Sizhui nodded along, it wasn’t the first time in his cultivating process that someone came forward trying to mimic his mother. Like always it rubbed him the wrong way, how could someone spit on another’s grave like that, especially in front of the Yiling Patriarch’s own kin. Though he liked Senior Mo more than the others since, unlike all the others who came before, he didn’t try to say he was Wei Wuxian. He was just Senior Mo, the low level cultivator that somehow could use demonic cultivation. 

“This doesn’t involve you!” Jin Ling snapped, narrowing his eyes at the other, “this is a family affair!” 

“If so...” Jingyi trailed off, side eyeing Sizhui who instantly threw up his hands to his chest to nervously pick at the skin around his nails, “Sizhui is your cousin, and Senior Mo is your uncle so he’s basically Sizhui’s uncle too!” 

“Jingyi!” Sizhui cried, practically cowering in the shadow that Jin Ling created. 

Jiang Cheng was much quicker than the two teens, swiping Zidian to create a line in the sand between the two, “stand down Jin Ling!” He commanded. 

“Lan Sizhui,” Father raised his arm, gesturing the boy over towards him. Scuttling like a frightened chicken, Sizhui went to the older man’s side, hiding briefly behind his long sleeve. 

“Coward!” Jin Ling sneered, crossing his arms. 

Jingyi unsheathed his sword, “What did you say about my best friend!” 

“I said he was a coward!” 

“For what?! Being scared of you! He hasn’t done anything to you!” 

“Who cares what he will do! What happens if he turns out just like his mother?!” 

“That is only speculation! We are not defined by our blood!”

“Oh?! Did you finally listen to Lan Qiren’s lesson or are you too stupid to understand the material.” 

“You-!” 

“You-!” 

“Enough!” Sizhui's voice broke through the two fighting boys. Hanguang-Jun turned around to where he thought his son had been the whole time to find he was nowhere, but in front of the two. “Will you two please stop, I can’t take this!” 

Jingyi lifted his upper lip in a snarl, before sheathing his sword and standing beside Sizhui with a disgruntled ‘hmfph!’ 

Jin Ling stepped back as well, but he seemed to be fighting within himself as he stepped backwards. He had yet to sheath his sword, but he seemed to be stepping down from his high horse. (even if it pained him so)

There was a gasp behind them and the trio turned to see Senior Mo just collapse into Hanguang-Jun’s arms. The two fell roughly to the ground, dust flying up in a hazy storm. 

“Father!” Sizhui cried, running to the two, already pulling out his satchel of herbs. 

Father simply put out his hand to stop him, Sizhui anxiously paused in front of the two. He lifted two glowing blue fingers to Senior Mo’s pulse point and hummed. “The strike weakened his core,” he stated, “the wound has been cauterized so there is no need for herbs.” Sizhui could only nod, fingers twisting nervously. Father again raised his hand to place it over Sizhui’s smaller ones, “stop picking, you’re bleeding.”

Looking down at his fingers, the usually puffy skin was now broken open. Blood seeped to the surface to only be rubbed away by a white sleeve already stained with brown from previous anxieties. “I apologize Father,” he lowered his head. 

Jin Ling watched the scene with his nose high in the air. ‘Attention whore,’ he thought bitterly. 

The young boy let out a surprise ‘oof’ as Jingyi rushed past him, obviously aiming at his shoulder when he passed to throw the other off. He sat on the ground with the Seniors and his friend, eagerly ruffling through his own sleeve to produce a cloth to apply pressure to Sizhui’s self harm. 

The scene was honestly very domestic, but it brought a sneer to Jin Ling’s lip. A part of him wanted to ask his cousin if he was okay, fret on the skittish boy so he wouldn’t pick all the skin away from his cuticles. Another part of him didn’t even want to associate with someone with the likeness of Wei Wuxian, the first demon cultivator. 

That same cultivation had killed his parents, leaving him an inconsolable boy with a sword that used to belong to his father and mother just a distant memory of lotus flowers and warm smiles. 

During his stay at the Cloud Recess, before he had learned of their troubling family tree, he and Sizhui were friends. Just recently he was causing trouble with that same boy and they even slept in the same bed to comfort each other. 

He knew that Sizhui wore the red ribbon that his mother wore in his hair, he knew they shared the love for lotus flowers because of their parents, and he bitterly knew that Sizhui suffered a lot of trauma in his childhood. 

At five months he was abandoned from the death of his mother, and at three he was attacked by a disciple in the Cloud Recess who had wanted revenge against Hanguang-Jun. Sizhui was also terrified of dogs, something that he and his mother shared. 

“Jin Ling,” turning to Uncle, he sheathed the sword and lifted his nose and chin to create an air of sophistication. “Come, we have a night hunt in Caiyi.“ 

Taking one last look, fist tightening at the sight of his ex friends caring for each other, “fine.” 

___❀___

Senior Mo’s body was carelessly draped like a linen sheet over Little Apple’s strong back, but Sizhui couldn’t help the discomfort he felt in his own body as he watched the lifeless body sway back and forth. 

Currently they were just passing the threshold of Caiyi town when the sun slowly started to come down, Sizhui’s group were all dragging their toes against the dusty ground, arms burning with fire from each taking turns carrying their senior. That’s until Hanguang-Jun clicked his tongue and instructed them with pointed looks to set Senior Mo on the donkey. 

Though it hurt to look at, at least their arms wouldn’t burn from the sheer weight of such a small person who was much heavier than they looked. 

Around a few minutes later they found a terribly small inn, Hanguang-Jun instructing that their juniors would split up the spaces that they had available and to ‘sleep on the floor, it’s a good learning experience.’ 

So it ended up with Senior Mo, Hanguang-Jun, Jingyi, and Sizhui all cramped in a two bedroom. They carefully placed the passed out Senior on the cot, before warily trying to figure out who gets the other bed. 

“You know...” Jingyi trailed off tapping his fingers together in a shy manner, “sleeping on the floor ain’t so bad!” 

“No! No!” Sizhui answered far too quickly waving a hand, “you should take the bed you carried Senior Mo for half the trip!” 

“Well Lan Su helped me out, you carried his shoulders the other way!” 

“Well the guy who was at the feet did most of the work.” 

A noise of someone clearing their throat startled the boys, they whipped around to see Hanguang-Jun who had an amused tilt to his lip. “Share,” he said simply with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“Look how small the cot is!” Jingyi cried, sizing it up with just two hands. 

Sizhui agreed with a bobble of his head, “if we both sleep in the same bed I could roll over and crush Jingyi.” 

“Yeah- Wait? You wouldn’t crush me!” 

“Hypothetically speaking I could!” 

“Is this because I’m shorter, because if it is you’re sleeping outside.”

“Hey! No! Jingyi!” 

“Hey,” Hanguang-Jun raised his voice just a louder pitch than his quiet drawl to get the boys’ attention, “just rock, paper, scissors, and then go to bed.” He offered with the wave of his hand. 

Jingyi would be the winner of Rock Paper Scissors in the end, just one point ahead when he chose a frightful rock compared to the trusty scissors. However, Father leant him a pillow from Senior Mo’s bed since the poor guy was knocked out so bad he wouldn’t really know if he had a pillow or not. 

Slowly the night turned quiet, the bustling inn became a breeding ground for singing cicadas and it’s back up chorus of chirping frogs. Jingyi had long fallen asleep, sprawled out eagle style and snoring to his heart's content, while Sizhui laid awake twirling the red ribbon around his hand. 

“Is sleep evading you?” Father’s voice was soft, teasing-like as he ran a gentle hand across Sizhui’s cheek. 

Opening his eyes, he smiled up at his father whose long hair draped down his face, “I will face punishment in the morning,” he giggled, “I’m just thinking of the day.” 

“It was a busy day,” Father hummed, meticulously stroking his son’s feather soft hair. It made him smile and years of sorrow slowly falling away like sand slipping through the crevices of cupped hands. 

They stayed quiet for a while, Wangji even believing for a second that Sizhui had fallen asleep, until those wide eyes opened back up, “what do you think Mom is thinking right now?” He asked all of sudden.

Sizhui watched as father side eyed at senior Mo, almost expecting the young man to spring up and back to his awaiting son. “Funny,” he decided, “he’d think this is all very funny.” 

“Funny...” Sizhui picked apart the word slowly, sleep thick in his brain, “funny...” he trailed off before going slack to the ribbon. Wangji sighed giving Sizhui one last pet to the side of the head before rising and sitting on the bed. 

Wei Ying still hadn’t woken up from passing out, but he was in no coma. Maybe it was the shock of the day or even the feeling of Zidian whip him, but as he passed his hand over his chest he could feel the thrumming golden core. 

It was small, very unlike his beloved, but it was warm and trying it’s hardest to heal. Though Wei Ying looked different, he also looked the same. Lan Zhan had come to love his soulmate in any body he possessed. So brilliantly he was sucked into this boy’s hurricane to listen to him talk about nothing and everything. 

 He grasped the warm hands in his own, feeling a slight grin on his face, “funny,” he repeated, “I know you find this funny, just wake up Wei Ying,” gently he brought his beloved’s knuckles up for a chaste kiss before settling them back where they were.

One hand over the other in such a way one would rest a body awaiting its own burial. Silently, Lan Wangji grasped the wrists and set them on either side of his body. Alive...

Wei Ying couldn’t die, he was too cunning to lose to death. 

___❀___

'The sun is too bright,' Wei Ying thought with a disgruntled huff, raising a sleep heavy hand over his head. It was so bright the darkness behind his eyes were no match to the mix of fiery oranges and yellow. Guess it was morning. 

Sitting up he gave his body a hearty twist to hear every bone in his spine rearrange itself and then twisted the other way to put those bones right where they belonged. 

Smacking his lips, he sleepily began to take in his surroundings. First testing out the cot he was asleep on and then to the room. 

With a loud gasp and skittering halfway up the wall, he realized he was not alone. Across the room were two (young) boys, one sleeping like a corpse that was just hit by a high speed wagon and then rag dolled down a hill, the other a defined statue. 

On closer inspection he then put names to faces. These were the Lans that have been following him around for days now. Their names escaped him (Like most names do), but he couldn’t help a sigh and a roll of his eyes when he peeked outside at the sun. 

High noon and these Lans were not even alive. This wouldn’t pass. 

Sighing, he stood back and gave his best clap of death. The noises startled both of the boys in varying degrees. The one on the bed let out a scream so loud you’d think Wei Ying stabbed him while the boy on the floor just stood up at full alert. 

“Ayia ayia,” he tutted, “what is this? A couple of Lans not awake at their normal time.” 

“Senior Mo!” The taller gaped, “you’re alive!” He said with much emotion. 

Shaking his head, Wei Ying let out a dry laugh, “yeah... I know,” he bit his lip, “still trying to process it too.” 

“We carried you!” The boy on the bed made rapid fire steps towards him, “I dropped you and you didn’t even flinch.” 

“I passed out, haven't you ever experienced someone passing out!” 

“No?! Have you.” 

Wei Ying blinked, watching every time a member of his family had succumbed to a touch of fatigue and collapse. “Maybe one,” he lied with a toothy grin.

“Where is Hanguang-Jun,” the tall boy turned around many times like the man was going to appear one of the times he turned his head. 

“He always tends to wander,” the small boy remarked with so much confidence Wei Ying was 100% sure that was something his Lan Zhan does.

He clapped his hands again, ignoring the flinch of all of them, “well, if he’s not around we better fill up on some good inn food.” 

Swinging around Wei Ying went to the door and prepared to hold it open when he came face to face with the tall boy. Their eyes seemed to flash and all he could see was gold. 

Gold like long grass that had dried up by the sun, gold like glittering, expensive combs, gold like the Lans. And with the gold came memories. Gold like A-Yuan’s eyes. 

His baby, the one he and his Lan Zhan had made together. Though it was an accident, when he was given the slimy mess of his son, minutes after it was cut out of his body. He couldn’t find any evidence that was reluctant to have him. 

Now, he could fully admit that the only reason he lived so long was because of A-Yuan. Every time he felt his existence crumbling and the want to hide, he’d hear the soft coo of the only person in this world that actually was innocent. 

He was precious, with his defined Lan nose and inky black hair. It was like his own personal mirror of Lan Zhan, one that didn’t hate him for everything he had done. And A-Yuan was just so tiny, Wen Qing had said that he was slightly premature, that’s why he was so tiny, but it only surged on his protective nature. 

Nowhere he went was without A-Yuan strapped to his chest with some fabric. The tiny baby spent it’s time asleep on his chest while he fiddled around with talismans or helped out in the field. Of course it wasn’t strenuous work, Wen Qing had already threatened everyone since he was still frail from giving birth, but allowed enough leeway that he and his son weren’t bored. 

The first time A-Yuan had met Lan Zhan it was a complete accident. He knew that the man he cherished so completely knew of A-Yuan existence, he didn’t have much to hide, but never the actual baby. 

He and Wen Ning were doing their weekly task of going into Yiling to sell their grown turnips and to barter around for seeds and other essential products that Wen Qing would write down for them to get. 

Having A-Yuan around was great, because he was the cutest thing in the world and everyone just wanted a glimpse of his adorable sleeping face. The turnips business was booming with their tiny mascot. 

However, one time he had turned to discuss a price on a few misshapen potatoes and when he turned back around he was chest to chest with another. Immediately, his hand came up to cradle A-Yuan head to protect him from the much larger person, but when he looked up he found his words dying in his throat. 

There was big Lan Zhan, the one with his defined nose all grown up and long black hair that wasn’t just a sporadic mop. It was A-Yuan father. His face was moving at a mile per minute, expression first confused, then passionate, and then curious. 

“Wei Ying,” he spoke thickly, eyes never leaving his face. 

“Lan Zhan,” he sighed, feeling so small in the other’s gaze. 

They were lost in each other’s eyes, until a soft coo had both of them looking down to the tiny baby strapped to his chest. Lan Zhan raised his hand, it wavered above the baby’s head before he pulled back as if he was burned, “is this..?” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“How about we sit down, maybe?” Wei Ying brought him back, raising his own hand to grasp the one that had been metaphorically burned, “we deserve a good chat.” 

“Yes,” Lan Zhan nodded solemnly, his eyes glued to just the sliver of A-Yuan tiny head that peeked from the bundle. They walked together, hand in hand, Wei Ying leading him like a blind man to water. 

The inn owner had recognized him immediately, shunning them with excitement to a tiny corner. Just for now, Lan Zhan ordered some tea as Wei Ying slipped his hand into the makeshift carrier and lifted the tiny bundle out. 

Looking up, he saw his beloved’s eyes go soft, watching him intently as he moved to sit beside him. “This,” Wei Ying found a soft smile forcing it’s way on his lips, “is Lan Yuan.” 

Lan Zhan’s hand was so big compared to his baby, his knuckle the size of the baby’s hand as he gently brushed it against the soft cheek of his son, “hi,” Lan Zhan seemed almost speechless, looking up with such young eyes, “when?”

“He was born two weeks ago,” Wei Ying smiled, “do you want to hold him? You are his A-Die.” 

“His A-Die,” Lan Zhan's mouth lifted up into such a happy smile it was too much of a surprise. His heart was like one made of wax, melting from the intense heat of his beloved’s smile. He passed on A-Yuan, gently lifting Lan Zhan’s hand to support the baby’s weak neck and one under his tiny behind. “Light,” was the first thing he said, lifting A-Yuan higher to show how light he was, “so small.”

“Wen Qing said he's premature,” Wei Ying supplied happily, bringing his finger to stroke the thin hair on his son’s scalp, “he was so excited to meet me he moved his own arrival date.” 

A-Yuan tiny fist raised in the air, feeling around until it clenched around a long strand of Lan Zhan’s hair giving it a weak tug. Wei Ying tutted gently, reaching to undo the grip of their son had on the other’s hair, but Lan Zhan stopped him with a slight snort of laughter, “like Wei Ying,” he joked shaking his head. 

A blush was coming onto his cheeks, it always meant the moons and the stars to make Lan Zhan laugh so openly, “I’ve never pulled your hair!” Wei Ying smiled, bumping their shoulders lightly. 

The jostle though, had caused quite a stir in the little one, causing a little hiccup before the crying started. “He’s-“ Lan Zhan looked so lost, his eyes getting all big and watery just like his son. 

However, this felt like another day to Wei Ying, quickly he took A-Yuan from Lan Zhan and delicately began moving his robe. At first, it was humiliating to know that he began to produce milk. Wen Qing was the first to slap him over his head and tell him that it was just what came with being a carrier, (or so that’s the term she used, Wei Ying liked to call himself a cow) 

A-Yuan knew the drill in his little baby mind, turning his head towards the food source while Wei Ying hid him under his soft robes so it wouldn’t shock the patrons of the inn. Not everyone was able to produce a kid and it’s not everyday that someone saw a male cultivator breast feeding a child. 

Caught out of thought, Wei Ying suppressed a snicker at the kicked dog look that was plastered all over Lan Zhan’s face. With the baby perfectly balanced in his arm, he allowed his free hand to pinch at the other’s cheek, “baby’s get upset, they have tiny tummies so they have to eat like every hour.” 

“But,” Lan Zhan looked away with his eyes, but pressed himself into Wei Ying’s hand, “I made A-Yuan cry.” 

“He cries for no reason, Baobei, that’s just how babies are,” he huffed, not being able to catch himself for the endearing term. 

They sat in relative silence, but around them life moved on with loud patrons. The tea came to them quickly, an older woman placed the tray down and gave a warm smile to Wei Ying, “I missed when my children were at that age,” she reminisced with slight amusement, “they were so needy until they started walking.” 

Bouncing the boy slightly, Wei Ying found a bit of fondness towards her. Since giving birth, many women in town had come to him with stories and advice for him, it was honestly so touching how accepting they were even if he was a man. He guessed they were just united together under the pain of birthing children. 

“I don’t think I’ll miss him crying at the break of dawn for one soiled diaper, I need my beauty rest,” he responded, feeling A-Yuan stop his weaning, he pulled him from the robe to begin burping him. 

The lady handed Lan Zhan a towel from around her waist, he stared at it with confusion until Wei Ying was quick enough to snatch it up and catch the cough up that always seemed to happen. “Thank you,” he nodded and she nodded back with understanding.

“Don’t worry, fatherhood is always tough for first time dads,” she digressed to Lan Zhan, patting his hand on the table, “you’ll get the hang of it.” 

The poor guy just blushed, nodding his head in a soft manner before turning back to his partner for help. They both laughed, Wei Ying handing back A-Yuan to Lan Zhan so he could fold up the towel and give it back to the woman. 

They talked about some other baby related stuff, her question varying on A-Yuan’s age and development, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lan Zhan’s gaze of pure and utter adoration. 

Now awake as ever, A-Yuan was making all kinds of little sounds, kicking his legs and trying to get a feel of his father’s arm. “He looks like Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan finally spoke with a slight amusement. 

“Are you sure?” Wei Ying grinned, leaning into the space to start to trace down A-Yuan’s nose, “he got that big Lan nose, I can tell,” tapping at his nose he shot Lan Zhan a big grin, “and his eyes, lookie, gold just like yours.” 

Lan Zhan at the time hummed in agreement, but with this memory he could only remember after A-Yuan was ripped from his arms and his piercing cries as Wen Qing bundled him under her robe and ran away under the poise that they’d hide him away. He couldn’t move, his whole body rigid as he saw the remnants and corpses of his friends and it only sent insult to injury when Jin Guangshan had spread the ashes of Wen Qing and the baby she possessed. 

It felt like his whole world collapsed in on itself, he had lost himself to the resentful energy he so swore he could control. Though the thought of those Jins killing his son, the one Lan Zhan had looked so happy to hold and promised so ardently to break away from his sect to care for him. Everything collapsed in on itself, his heart shattered to pieces and spread out on the Nightless city with his child’s ashes. 

It fell apart after that, Shijie and her husband before that had succumbed to a lifeless demise. Everyone in his life that he had ever loved was just like A-Yuan, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Shijie, Zixuan, all lifeless. 

The resentful energy began to take over with delicious results. He was in hysterics and doing so he had murdered his senior sister.

He was a murderer (who knows how many innocent men he killed?). Why was he alive? 

“Senior Mo?” The hesitant voice of the tall Lan was like a trickle of water in a dried up creek, gently he lifted his hand and patted the boy on the head as he once had did with own son. One that would be around this Lan disciple’s age if he wasn’t killed for having his blood.

“Sorry, you know, thoughts,” He joked, taking his hand away like it burned and bunched it up in the side of his robe, “food, yeah! Let’s get food!” 

“I mean....” the small boy gave him a skeptical look, “as long as my plate stays far away from you, sketchy man.” 

“Sketchy man?!” Wei Ying cried, gripping his chest, “I was going to pay my saviors with good food!” 

“You should give Hanguang-Jun some of that food,” Jingyi quipped in his usual tone of teasing, “he paid for the hotel.” 

Senior Mo's face drained of color suddenly, he brought a curious finger up to his nose and flicked at it with thought, “Hanguang-Jun?” He muttered to himself. 

Sizhui thinking Senior Mo was a little lost, he grabbed the taller man by his arm, “don’t worry! You don’t have to pay for him! Hanguang-Jun doesn’t mind helping people!” 

“But didn’t he stay up half the night watching Senior Mo?” Jingyi added unhelpfully. 

“Jingyi!” Sizhui hissed turning to the boy, before turning back to find himself losing the words on his tongue. The senior face was a soft hue of pink, with his lips brought in a confused O. 

Something flashed in Sizhui, something he had never really felt before, nor could he really put a word to how he felt exactly. It was like a hot flash of jealousy. 

It hadn’t been the first time Sizhui had seen a Senior get flustered over his dad. Anybody with eyes could appreciate the ethereal beauty his father possessed. However, the thought of his Father remarrying and forgetting about mother was a dangerous fear that swelled like an ink stain on perfect paper. 

It wasn’t like he wanted his father to be lonely forever. He was aware of the dark shadows that followed him, but just thought of having to call another mom.... 

It didn’t sit right. 

“Hey guys!” Jingyi called over the darkening silence in the room, waving his arms and back forth, “food! Let’s go get food!”

Before Senior Mo or Sizhui could say anything else, they were grabbed by the arm and whisked out of the inn. 

“I thought I said inn food, not stand food,” Wei Ying complained as he was manhandled down the busy street. People swarmed around like groups of fish, off on their daily business of haggling food prices and oohing at expensive jewelry. 

The Lans seemed a little out of their element despite their excitement of leaving the inn, it was almost endearing. It reminded Wei Ying of the first time he and Lan Zhan went to check out the River monster that lurked in deep Gusu water. Though he masked his entire face in that insufferable deadpan, with careful eyes you could see that the young man was a little nervous. The small boy, Lan Jingyi, and the tall boy, Lan Sizhui were glued tightly to their side, dodging those who ran too close like they were enemies in the battlefield. 

It wasn’t till then that Wei Ying was able to realize how young these boys actually were. They were cultivators, yes, but they were children first. Wrapping a hand around each of their shoulders, he steered them carefully away from the bustling crowd and into a small winery. 

“Ah,” Jingyi griped, sweeping his arm from the hold and batted away Wei Ying’s hand like it was fire, “I don’t need you to manhandle me like I’m a child.” 

Suppressing an eye roll, Jingyi was scared back to his side by a kind faced server who brought them to their table. “You need someone to dot on you,” he fondly smiled, leaning across the table to pinch at Jingyi’s cheeks, “when was the last time someone did that.” 

A blush sprung to those youthful cheeks, “I don’t need doting! I’m a cultivator!” 

“A cultivator, mmhmm,” Wei Ying assured the other with a flick of the hand as he began unshelling a peanut in the dish, “and you, Sizhui, is anyone doting on you. Anyone making sure you got your headband situated properly?”

Self consciously, Sizhui adjusted his headband, “Hanguang-Jun does,” he responded softly with a smile. 

“He’s your dad!” Jingyi whined elbowing his friend, “and he’s like the second young master of the clan! Man I wish my dad worked in Gusu, but alas he’s just an offshoot cousin.” 

Wei Ying choked subtly on said peanut, a dark feeling swelling in his stomach as he looked at Sizhui. Of course the boy had gold eyes, that’s a Lan trait, an inner Lan trait. He was the shining son of Lan Zhan, given birth from some unnamed person. 

Lan Qiren was never one to let sitting ducks sit for too long, he would have definitely sprung a marriage onto Lan Zhan and the man he used to call his, was pliant like dough to his uncle. 

His baby, his Lan Yuan would never know the love of his father. And that hurt, it hurt so bad it felt like a stab to the heart. 

“Man, you love to just doze off mid sentence,” Lan Jingyi quipped, tossing a nut into his mouth, “are you okay? Or is that like a passing out thing we should be worried about,” he directed the question towards Sizhui who shrugged. 

“I’ve only had some training in medicine.” 

A flash of gold is what popped Wei Ying out of thought, the doors to the small winery bursting open like there was urgent business outside to only show Jin Ling in his prime. 

“Jin Ling!” Jingyi yelped, grabbing Sizhui’s arm, “we gotta get the hell out of here!” 

“M-Master Mo!” Sizhui hissed giving a tug to his robe. 

It was too late, with the fuss they made Jin Ling’s eyes met theirs with a fiery passion. “Well, well, well,” he smirked, nose high in the air as he made his way to the table, “if it isn’t my lovely cousin and his sidekick.” 

“Sidekick?!” Jingyi yelled, “I am not Sizhui’s sidekick, I’m his best friend!” 

And Wei Ying then watched with fascination as the two began to fight back and forth, Sizhui shrinking further and further under the table like melting ice cream. “Ayiah,” he yelled over them, getting their attention, “do not cause a ruckus! We haven’t eaten yet, sit sit! The both of you.” Jingyi and Jin Ling sat without saying a word, but their glares were enough, “can’t we just have one nice, family dinner,” he exasperatedly asked Sizhui as he flagged down the nearest server. 

“Family Dinner?” Jin Ling scoffed, “it’s like the whole family I hate is sitting at one table,” he narrated softly to himself as he watched Uncle Mo sway the server with a complex order. Honestly, if he’s thinking at the moment, he had never seen Uncle Mo be this open and normal. Usually the guy was batshit crazy and didn’t like talking, yet here they were. 

“What brings you into Caiyi?” Senior Mo cradled his jaw in his hand as he looked like a cat ready to pounce at Jin Ling. “Seems out of place since you are a Jin disciple.” 

“My night hunting is none of your business,” Jin Ling fumed back, suddenly feeling so scrutinized under such a powerful gaze. “You’re the one that should be in The Cloud Recess already!” 

“We didn’t want to fly by sword since Senior Mo was immobilized during his fight with Sect Leader Jiang,” Sizhui spoke up in a calm manner, like one would do to soothe an angry animal, “we also had the donkey to worry about...” 

“What an unpleasant thing!” Jingyi picked up for his friend with a haughty air, “bring it to grass and she will not eat! It has a specialized kind it likes, believe it or not!” 

“Really?” Jin Ling gaped, before quickly hiding his expression with a timely cough and a side eye. 

Sizhui lifted his sleeve to hide his smile, Jingyi letting out a bark of laughter, “yes! Only the best spiritual grass! What have you been doing to this donkey, Senior Mo!” 

All eyes turned to him, he let out an awkward laugh resting back on his hands, “Lil Apple has a way with her words, nobody wants a mad mistress!” 

Just as he finished, food had begun its way to enter the table. The boys, though hesitant for the dishes of orange colored rice and dumplings, ended up digging in with excitement. 

“Why is it spicy?” Jingyi yelped, practically shoving his chopsticks down his throat as he scraped the orange rice from his tongue. 

Sizhui looked up, a slight pull of his lip as he stopped chewing. The food felt so familiar yet so far, however the spice was something that his palette enjoyed. His father would never deny him a meal such as one like this and they would meet every weekend for a dish like this in the Jingshi. “I think it’s good,” he offered plucking a dumpling into his mouth. 

“Once you cool your tongue and directly eat the rice it isn’t so bad,” Jin Ling offered with a grunt. Looking over he saw Senior Mo plate almost finished, shoving the rest of it in the darkest pit of hell, that was his mouth. Now that he thinks of it again, Senior Mo never had an appetite for food, he was a very thin boy for a reason. 

Things weren’t adding up, it’s like someone replaced his uncle... 

They ate together like Lan’s do, no talking at the table, however eyes were all the conversation. Jin Ling kept trying to shove Jingyi off the bench while Sizhui was helpless watching. It wasn’t until they were getting ready to pay when a new character would join them. 

Lan Zhan was like Wei Ying still remembered, a cold face with eyes that held such depth. It was as if his eyes were a glimpse into his own secluded world. The juniors at the table stood up at his entrance, like tiny clockwork they all bowed to him. “Ah! Hanguang-Jun!” Wei Ying broke the tension quickly, darting forward to take the other’s arm and lead him to the table himself, “just in time! We were just finishing up lunch!” 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan nodded with a soft hum, patting Wei Ying hand, “thank you for feeding the children,” then looked up at the three of them, “half of the children,” he revised. 

He gave him his most blinding smile (which was just a lip quirk) as he brushed away Jin Ling’s gold already put on the table to replace it with his own. “Juijui,” Jin Ling bowed awkwardly, a sheepish look appearing on his face. 

‘Ah, so Lan Zhan married a Jin,’ Wei Ying thought with slight amusement, leave it to Lan Qiren to force his Lan Zhan to marry into the worst sect imaginable. Maybe it was like a dance on his grave, kind of get back. 

“Why are you in Gusu,” Lan Zhan asked flat out, causing Jin Ling to just gape like a fish, “where is Jiang Wanyin?” He turned around expecting the furious man to appear out of thin air. 

“He isn’t my keeper!” Jin Ling bit back, but shrank at the cold glare he got back from speaking so harshly to his elder, “fine, he’s a little bit away, like next town over. There was a ghoul and he was just doing observations, none of like, the cool parts.” 

The boy looked down at his feet and kicked lamely at the ground as Lan Zhan glared holes into his skull. “Jiang Wanyin is following us.” 

“Following us?” Sizhui repeated back, “what for?” 

And then all eyes went to him, ‘Damnit,’ Wei Ying thought as he shrugged helplessly. Leave his own younger brother to want to hunt him down to kill him one more time. Wasn’t the first time enough?! 

“Take me to your Uncle,” Lan Zhan said flatly. 

Jin Ling finally stopped beating up all the rocks under his feet to glare, “what? So you can join the night hunt too? It’s for Yunmeng Jiang!” 

“In Gusu!” Jingyi bit in, smacking Jin Ling on the back with an open palm, “why hunt in our territory when they got so much land in Yunmeng.” 

“He’s right,” Sizhui added with a slight bump in his step, but without all the roughhousing, “Hanguang-Jun should make sure the town isn’t harmed. It is a LanGusu rule to protect the innocent.” 

Wei Ying smiled at the boy, even if he was slightly meek, he showed his power through words, even if it was to his hateful cousin. “Mn, we go,” Lan Zhan nodded, “Jingyi tell the other disciples to go on ahead to The Cloud Recess and then you can catch up with us.” 

“Yes Hanguang-Jun!” Jingyi shouted, before sending a leeway glance to Sizhui. Going back to his senior’s eyes there was a quick conversation without any words. 

Gently, Lan Zhan nodded, “Sizhui will be safe with me until you get back, please hurry along.” 

Jingyi gave one more glance, Sizhui edging him on with a slight flick of the wrist with amusement in his face. The young boy then set off like a chicken with it’s head cut off. 

“Lead the way,” Lan Zhan's face showed no emotion which probably upset Jin Ling even more as he mumbled out his response and then stomped right out of the inn with his seniors and cousin hot on his heels. 

Wei Ying watched as Lan Zhan shook his arm off to put a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder, pushing him ahead of them to walk with Jin Ling. Though it seemed the boy didn’t want to, he did it anyways with a terrified look towards his father. His arm was retaken as they walked on, a slight blush filling Wei Ying cheeks after so many years he thought he could repress it. 

However, Lan Zhan always had that kind of knack for making him feel like his heart was going to burst. It was a good and bad thing at best. 

___❀___

Jin Ling thought he had successfully avoided all the dangerous uncles in the area, one minute while Uncle Jiang turned around to yell at someone, he was off to find something more exciting. Without Uncle Jiang he thought he could eagerly avoid his uncles at the Cloud Recess, but lo behold the two hadn’t even made it up there yet. 

He felt like an unruly toddler, forced to walk ahead so he couldn’t run off with his nervous cousin who was avoiding all possible eye contact. He had a plan, maybe he could trip Senior Mo and Hanguang-Jun would run to the idiot’s aid, then he could grab Sizhui’s hand and get the hell out of there. 

Wait... 

Jin Ling scowled, why would he help Sizhui? That bastard would probably give them away, he was a true goody-two-shoe. He’d probably start crying about going too far away from the seniors. 

“Jin Ling? Are you okay?” Sizhui asked suddenly, having watched his cousin’s face go through the five stages of grief right in front of his own eyes. 

The boy whipped his head around, the beads and jewelry in his hair jangled around violently, “what are you talking about?” He hissed, lifting his nose high in the air, “why would you need to worry about me, your mom didn’t care about my parents so why would you.”

There. Done. Drop mic. No more conversation. 

Sizhui hummed in a sad tone, nodding his head as he looked away, “yeah, sorry,” he muttered going back to rip his nails to shreds. 

They could walk like this forever, no talking whatsoever, but Senior Mo must have developed hyper senses, because the man flung himself pulling the boys together at his side by their shoulders. “Hi guys! Lan Zhan told me to stop bothering him so now I’m bothering you guys!” 

“Oh great,” Jin Ling moaned, a dangerous migraine was starting to form. 

Sizhui looked back at his dad with a look of help, watching as the man who raised him who just looked up to just lift his shoulders and drop them. It was just his shrug of I don’t care, great. “Senior Mo,” he whined, prying those tight fingers from his shoulder, “me and Jin Ling weren’t talking about anything.” 

“Nothing?” Senior Mo blanched, throwing his arms in front of himself to gesture around, “look at this place!” He slapped a tree, “look at this tree!” 

“That’s a great tree, Senior Mo.” 

“Oh brother, can I just kill myself already.” 

Sizhui helpfully stopped Jin Ling from unsheathing his sword, not even sparing a glance. 

Before Senior Mo could go on, he suddenly turned his head like a meerkat. Sizhui turned to his father quickly, seeing Bichen was already at arms. He cocked his ear, trying to hear anything, but he was brought out with a gasp as Senior Mo grabbed him and Jin Ling into his chest in a hug-like gesture.

The two gasped in pain as their heads slammed together, complaints already on Jin Ling’s tongue. He was ready to lash out when he felt an immense power push against Senior Mo who was physically holding them out of harm as Bichen sang her song of war. 

Jin Ling looked at the Senior whose face was a mix of emotions, they were so close he could count every freckle on the man’s face. Another rush of power flew through the battlefield, this time an electric sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stick up. 

“Well well,” a familiar voice filtered in, Jin Ling giving enough push from the Senior to see Uncle Jiang in his full prime. Zidian was pulsing with purple electricity that climbed the sleeve of the his arm. Jiang Cheng had a sneer on his face, but when he saw Jin Ling it melted quickly, “A-Ling!” He shouted, “where have you been!” 

“He was in Caiyi town,” Uncle Lan was the first one to speak, lifting his hand to stop the whole scene. Now that Jin Ling wasn’t hidden away by Senior Mo, he could see that the floor of the forest was all ripped up and a dead snake-like creature was in the middle of the mess. 

Turning back he saw Senior Mo had pulled away from Sizhui, he was gently petting the boy's head with his palm. It was as if the two were clueless of the whole situation unfolding in front of them. 

“Caiyi?!” Uncle Jiang was furious, his eyebrows were doing that thing where they dipped so low it was going to give him permanent wrinkles, “I’ll break your legs so you never run off again! Good thing Lan Wangji was able to find you when he did or you’d be halfway across this continent!” 

They looked to Uncle Lan to give them one of his amazing one word answers, but what they got was a very smug Senior Mo. “ah! Sect Leader Jiang, don’t be so harsh!” His eyes honed in on Jin Ling, expression soft, “are you okay?” 

It took a minute to process the question. Jin Ling stood there lifelessly, as he brought a hand to his temple where he and Sizhui connected heads. Senior Mo confidently left Hanguang-Jun side to go to Jin Ling, like he saw the other do the Sizhui instead of petting like he thought at first, he actually could feel the Senior feeling his head for any bumps. 

On a part of decorative hair rings, Senior Mo hand came back with a little bit of blood on it. “So it’s coming from you,” he sighed softly, pulling the sleeve of his hanfu down to press against the wound. 

“What are you doing?” Uncle Jiang’s voice was strained, eyebrows twitching down as he grasped tightly onto Senior Mo’s wrist, “you did this to him?” 

Similar to a dog, Uncle Jiang’s lip curled up, Senior Mo face flashed with so many emotions, but didn’t budge from holding Jin Ling’s head, “yes and no,” he said softly, “I pulled the boys together so they wouldn’t be hurt by the snake, but it was the hair ring that cut Jin Ling.”

Jiang Cheng’s lip fell, but before he could say anything else it was as if the disciples always knew how to interrupt. “Sect Leader!” An older man cried, stopping on the back of his heels to bow, “we found a young Lan Disciple, hopefully they can help us find Jin Ling-“ the man trailed off as he gazed at the boy he was looking for, instead of looking embarrassed he looked relieved. 

However, in tows in two other disciples holding Lan Jingyi by the back of his robe, he was snapping at them with his teeth, hands tearing at the disciple's hand that had him suspended in the air. 

Lan Zhan closed his eyes, Wei Ying let out a bark of laughter, and Sizhui ran to the disciples. “Please let me friend go,” he pleaded, taking Jingyi’s hands. 

“Let him go,” Lan Zhan added with more authority, the disciples at that dropped Jingyi in a heap at Sizhui’s shoes and retreated towards Jiang Cheng. 

“He bit me!” The unnamed disciple showed Jiang Cheng his scratched and bitten hand. 

“Yeah ‘cuz you jumped me!” Jingyi cried, snapping his teeth for effect when the disciple flinched. “I had orders!” 

“Do not bite others, Jingyi,” Lan Zhan scolded, helping the other up to assess the boy’s wounds. Other than a bloody mouth, some torn up nails, and his robes ripped up, he was intact. “Use your sword to protect yourself,” he added with a certain glint in his eye. 

The boy huffed and pointed to the disciple who was holding the white sword, “I didn’t have my sword, Hanguang-Jun, what would you suggest I have done.” 

Lan Zhan mulled over the decision with a blank hum, “your biting was justified.” He turned back around, cleverly hiding Jingyi behind him, “Sect Leader Jiang, did you set up a camp close by? I believe the children need to be looked at and patched up before we can go back.” 

Though Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched he said, “fine,” and stomped off with one hand clamped onto Senior Mo’s wrist. Lan Zhan walked after the two, giving his best stink eye. 

The juniors were left alone with each other, the three walking quietly as he heard the seniors begin bickering loudly. 

“You look absolutely rabid,” Jin Ling laughed, avoiding Jingyi who had begun foaming his spit to chase after the other. Sizhui rubbed his head, the injury still feeling sore as he watched his friends try to kill each other. 

Even if his head hurt, it was probably the happiest moment he had this week. 

___❀___

When they got to the camp, Jingyi and Jin Ling were ushered off to the medical tent. Wei Ying was again holding pressure to the wound on Jin Ling’s head since it opened back up when he was chasing Jingyi around. 

Lan Zhan had a hand on the small of Jingyi’s back, pushing forcibly to get the boy moving when he was busy trying to yell to Sizhui that he’d be right back. Though it was a little hard to hopeful when his mouth was covered in blood and hands a wreck. 

“Lan Sizhui,” a voice bumped him out of thought as he turned to Uncle Jiang, “let’s go sit down, have you eaten?” 

The question was surprising, but Sizhui had never known a time that Uncle Jiang was not kind to him. He always seemed to prickle when talking to Sizhui’s dad, but when it came to him, Uncle Jiang was just a regular, doting uncle. 

He was led to a small tent in the middle of the camp, Uncle Jiang offered him a seat at a wooden bench and then proceeded to pour some tea from a kettle. “A-Yuan,” Uncle Jiang said quietly, passing the cup between them, “can you do me a favor?” 

Sizhui tilted his head, confused, “of course, Shushu.” 

Uncle Jiang was very quiet, almost to a point that it scared Sizhui. His eyes were distant as he stared at the blanket adorning one of the cots. “Sizhui,” he finally spoke, setting the cup down on the table, “no matter what Jin Ling says to you, you are still my brother’s son,” he paused, licking his lips, “are you aware of that?” 

“Yes,” Sizhui was firm, clasping his hands together in his lap, “father says to me that before I am a Lan Disciple, I am first the son from my mother.” 

Shushu nodded, before leaning forward to set his hands on Sizhui’s, “I want you to not trust Senior Mo,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “I have a feeling he isn’t who he says he is. Jin Ling had told me that the man is acting strange.” 

A silent air filtered over the group, Sizhui could feel his blood run cold, “Senior Mo makes father happy,” he gritted quietly, feeling Uncle Jiang’s fingers tighten around his wrist, “I can only count the few times he’d been this happy and I want what is best for him.”

“The way that Senior Mo acts is very similar to way your mother use to act,” Uncle Jiang’s vision seemed lost as began rubbing circles into the skin of Sizhui’s hands, “you do remember when I told you that your mother was like an older brother to me, at a time he was our clan’s head disciple.” 

Sizhui nodded slowly, “I am aware, but Father told me that you shunned him from the clan and later....” his eyebrows furrowed, the lump in the back of his throat felt deadly, “killed him.” He managed through a hoarse throat.

A heavy weight settled in Jiang Cheng’s stomach, of course Lan Wangji would not rest until he completely incriminated him. Though, who could blame the guy. “What else did Lan Wangji tell you about...” he struggled to say the name again, “about Wei Ying.” 

He watched closely as Sizhui blinked slowly and then curiously tilting his head, “not much, I understand Father is grieving so I don’t wish to ask much. I know mother was a troublemaker,” he could feel a smile as Jiang Cheng laughed too, “and that he was selfless towards anyone who needed help.” 

“That’s true,” he smiled, “did he tell you any stories?”

“Father isn’t really much for stories.” 

Jiang Cheng tsked outright, letting go of his nephew’s hands to cross his arms and begin pacing in the small tent. What could he tell this child, what was there to start about the most shameless person to ever exist. “What do you want to know?” He offers a broad statement.

Sizhui pursed his lips, bringing his hand up to flick his nose in such a familiar way it was enough to make Jiang Cheng stop his pacing. He was truly in the presence of his brother’s son, there was no doubt of genes or what if’s. 

“I want to know how my parents met,” the boy’s smile was soft, “I’ve never known.” 

“Well,” Jiang Cheng sighed, tapping his toe, “to get things off first, your father and your mother were not all buddy, buddy, when they first met,” he prefaced quickly trying to think back to the good days, “your mother had left the Cloud Recess, because me and your Aunt, Jin Ling’s mom, had left our invitation to our summer classes at the inn. Your father told us, that with no invitation, we could not enter the Cloud Recess, at the time he was such a stickler for rules, he even put the Lan Silencing Spell on your Mother to make him stop talking back.” 

Taking a seat on the cot, Jiang Cheng could see the intense thoughts already building in Sizhui, “do you have any questions? Any thoughts,” he offered with a raised eyebrow. 

“You said Mother and Father didn’t like each other,” Sizhui recalled with a hum, “but Father says he had always loved mother, is this a lie?” 

The hysterics in the boy’s voice was sweet, quick and ready to defend his father, “maybe in your Father’s eyes, but to your Mother, I heard enough of his prattle. Later, your father let us into the Cloud Recess before it was dark, but your Mother came back much later, with alcohol and what he told me was he and your father had exchanged hot words and began to fight on the roof tops.” 

“Fight?” Sizhui blanched, “mother should have known alcohol is forbidden in the Cloud Recess! As well as our curfew!” 

“Your Mother liked causing trouble and he sure liked his drinks, though I’m pretty sure he stopped around the time he conceived you,” he said more to himself as he mulled over the memories, suddenly not wanting to recount the Dafan Mountain hunt of his brother coming back dazed and covered in more bruises to count. 

At first, he was sure that he had been attacked by an animal that wandered into the hunt. Though he wasn’t very surprised when he found out Lan Wangji was the animal. Before he could let the thought simmer, he began another story. Weaving together the time he was at the Cloud Recess and of all the times Sizhui’s Mother broke the rules. With crass material he’d tell Qiren or pestering his Father, there wasn’t much he could just skim over. 

Sizhui then directed questions towards Wei Ying’s childhood, asking about what he was like as a kid and all the trouble he got up to. By the end of the last story, Jiang Cheng laughed to himself, until he looked up and saw a steady stream of tears hotly falling down Sizhui’s face. 

He moved from the bed to the bench, quickly trying to wipe away the tears with apologies spilling, “it’s okay,” Sizhui laughed wetly, “I guess I just really miss my mom,” he smiled sadly, hand lifting his sleeve to show the ribbon around his wrist. 

It had been a long time since Jiang Cheng had last seen that ribbon. It was still obnoxiously red with the silver and gold embroidery of a lotus flower. He could remember that Wei Ying was so adamant about not wanting a fancy ribbon, begging Father to just get him a plain one. He would settle with that ribbon, “this is his ribbon,” Jiang Cheng touched the fraying silk, surprising himself when Sizhui didn’t pull away. 

“It’s all I have a mother,” he whispered, swiping away tears with his free hand, “I still have Mother’s robe, the one he had swaddled me in before he passed and Father had created it into a security blanket, but this ribbon always comes with me,” he picked at the silk with a smile, “I use to feel my mother, within my dreams. I felt so close to him, but now I feel so empty.” 

“Empty?” Jiang Cheng asked, “like you forget the memories?” 

“No like he’s gone.”

“Gone?” He repeated back. 

Sizhui’s eyes, though puffy from crying, were glazed over as he looked past his uncle. It was very Lan Wangji of him, Jiang Cheng thought with a slight bitterness. Father had said something long before his unfortunate passing, that there was something wrong with Second Young Master Lan’s brain. Something about not to pester the Master for bad eye contact and lack of speech that Wei Wuxian ignored completely. 

“I don’t remember, mother,” Sizhui closed his eyes, trying to school his expression like Uncle Xichen had shown him, “but I have dreams where I can feel him,” he professed. 

Nobody knew of these dreams, other than Lan Jingyi, who had promised up and down that he wouldn’t disclose anything to his Father. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep him from knowing about these dreams, but he also didn’t want Father to worry. 

“Most of the dreams are kind,” he told his uncle, skirting all kind of eye contact to just stare at his lap, “I know my Mother’s touch, he’d ask me questions I cannot answer and stroke my cheek and I always couldn’t see his face, because I can’t remember it. But…” 

“But…” Jiang Cheng urged to gather the boy’s hands back in his own, rubbing circular motions to soothe the other.

“But something changed, they became nightmares,” Sizhui closed his eyes again, but this time those eyes scrunched up into small crescents, “I dream that he is gone and I’m left alone. I run and run and I can hear him calling my name, but everytime I think I’m close his voice is another echo away. I can’t sleep,” he whispered, “no,” he muttered, “I don’t want to sleep if my dreams are those.” 

“A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng could feel his heart breaking as the boy shook his head back and forth to cover the tears that were slowly descending down his cheeks. 

Taking in an intense breath, Sizhui’s cheeks puffed up with a red hue as he let out a shaky breath, “Father,” he paused, a sob breaking past his attempts to calm down, “Father tells me I’m not a mistake.” 

Once, Yanli had said to Jiang Cheng when mother got in her moods, ‘that angry people are not always wisest people,’ and even if mother was vicious as she got, she never truly meant her words. Jiang Cheng always thought about that whenever he found himself growing angry about things out of his control, that just because he’s angry about something, doesn’t mean he has a right to be angry. 

Here he was, gently cradling his nephew’s head into his shoulder as the boy shook with waves of grief, a kind of grief that nobody could understand. He was pissed. He was pissed at his brother for leaving this boy motherless, he pissed at Lan Wangji for having to tell Sizhui he isn’t a mistake, he’s pissed at the world that could be so cruel. In a good timeline, he could see Sizhui growing up to become the apple of his mother’s eye, maybe Lan Wangji would have unstuck that damn stick up his ass and in that world Jin Ling would still have both parents. It's a cruel truth that they live in. 

“You are wanted,” Jiang Cheng was squeezing the boy tightly to his shoulder, rubbing a long line down Sizhui’s back, feeling every knob of his spine, “when you were born, my…” tears were beginning to sprout on his own end, “my brother,” he choked, “he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars, your father walked with such a proud gait I thought he was going to hurt his hips. You were so wanted.” 

“But Jin Ling,” Sizhui moaned into his shoulder, hiccupping with every breath.

“Jin Ling is cruel, he's a cruel sad boy,” He huffed, lifting his hand to pet at the young boy’s head, “You were never the reason for the death of his parents, nor the death of your mother. Your mother was crazy and not in the right head and I tell myself that every time I end up getting so hot about something.”

“Sect Leader Jiang-” A voice cut them off, Jiang Cheng found himself staring intensely as a tall shadow loomed in the entrance of light. In all his own glory, Lan Wangji looked like a ghost standing in such odd lighting. Sizhui sat up, rubbing away the tears at his eyes before crossing the room to his father. Lan Wangji went to his knees, using his hand to tilt Sizhui’s chin to the left and right, eyes keen for any injury as the boy’s shoulders bounced with every staccato breath from crying. “Why are you crying?” he asked softly, a voice Jiang Cheng never heard before. 

Sizhui shook his head, swiping at his tears some more as he jumped his father in a hug. Lan Wangji melted in the hug, squeezing under Sizhui’s shoulder and pressing his small head into the crook of his neck. “What did you say to him,” he hissed at Jiang Cheng, eyes out for blood as he cradled the boy so intensely to his chest. 

“I was-” He had never felt this so guilty, Lan Wangji was never a person he ever felt threatened by, yet Jiang Cheng’s stomach was a mess of emotions. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the first attempt at speaking, “I heard you hadn’t told him any stories about his own mother,” he snarled, it was so much easier to be angry than to be sad, “he had to come to me and ask. What kind of father does that! Did your father do that to you or were you always this emotionally stunted?” 

“Shut up,” Lan Wangji’s famous one liners were hell, he looked down at Sizhui who repressed his sobbing into soft sniffles, “you have no right to judge my parenting when you created Jin Ling to be the way he is. Why haven’t you ever sat down and told him to stop, you said yourself that he is a sad cruel child, who even says that about their own son.”

“He isn’t my son!” Jiang Cheng yelled, “do you think I ever wanted him? Did you ever think of if I was ready to raise my sister’s son! I’d rather her do that, but she’s dead because of your obsessive romance that led to their deaths!” 

“So you’re blaming me for the death of Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji scoffed, picking up Sizhui’s with ease, “you want me to take the credit you’ve been gloating over for years, the death of your own brother. You say that in front of our son.” 

Jiang Cheng's upper lip curled, the anger building in him like smoke escaping fire, “yeah,” he laughed cruelly, “if it wasn’t for you, my brother and sister would still be alive.” 

The air was thick as ice, if looks could kill both men would have been dead on the floor. Lan Wangji lifted his nose in the air, one hand pressing Sizhui’s head into his robe to hide him away, “Stay away from my son,” his voice was a dull roar, the hand not holding Sizhui went to his sword, “we’ll be gone by sun high so you won’t ever see us again, happy?”

“Thrilled.” 

Lan Wangji exited with a flourish of robes as he carried a drained Sizhui against his hip. Jiang Cheng collapsed on the bench that he once sat. Yanli’s words felt like a taunt, ‘Angry people are not always the wisest.” Damn was she true. 

It was just the minute he saw Lan Wangji, he thought of every minute he’d ever seen Wei Ying give that man his sunshine smile of adoration and the selfishness of playing the hero for nothing. He didn’t care for the way he acted, he didn’t care if he would get hurt, and what was left of him was a shell of man that succumbed to his worst tricks. 

They were supposed to be brothers forever, the Twin Heroes of Yummeng for god sake, but in the end, Wei Ying would always be just a corpse. One with an asshole husband and a grieving son and it made him so angry. 

Zidian began to flicker on his finger, the ring pulsing for blood. He was going to kill that Mo Xuanyu for even thinking he could get away with that horrible cultivation. Wei Ying wouldn’t have wanted anyone to follow his path and Jiang Cheng was going to kill anyone that even thought of trying demonic cultivation. 

Chapter Text

My Pride and Prejudice

Chapter 3 - Decline

___❀___

The infirmary was a small tent located in the southwest corner of the hastily put together Jiang camp. Jin Ling hissed quietly as he smoothed over the bandages that were on his head while Jingyi licked over his teeth still trying to get the coppery taste of blood out of his palette. Senior Mo was messing around with one of the moving cabinets, rummaging around and looking at the different herbs with either a pleased hums or excited Ah! It was starting to grate Jin Ling’s nerves, why couldn’t the senior just stay quiet for one goddamn minute! It was like the man had one long running train of thought and there was no end to it. When Lan Wangji was with them earlier, Senior Mo seemed to be a little more drawn back and playing the angel, but the minute their only sensible senior was gone, the man was all gasping and fooling around. 

Jingyi flexed his fingers in the gauze, side glancing Jin Ling before going back to a muted pout. “Stop staring at me,” he huffed, crossing his arms and hiding his stinging fingers into his armpit. 

“I’m not even looking at you,” Jin Ling sneered, upper lip pulling up in a very similar look that they had seen earlier on Jiang Waynin. “Do not think so highly of yourself, sidekick.” 

“I told you I’m not a damn sidekick!” 

“Well you always act like it! What? Do you have a crush on Sizhui or something!” 

Senior Mo turned with a cat-like grin as they watched the junior’s face go bright red. He could remember when everything seemed so normal he used to tease Jiang Cheng about his crush on Wen Qing. Jingyi could definitely fight Jiang Cheng on the level of blush, they both looked like they ate a bite of a spicy pepper and were ready to release the flames hidden in their mouths. 

Jin Ling stood up from the cot he was sitting on, his cheeks were slightly flushed too, “you do!” he yelled pointing his finger, “you have a crush on Lan Sizhui!” 

“Shut the hell up!” Jingyi snapped, patting his hot cheeks to try and cool them down, “why do you care so much? Do you also have a crush on him!” 

The boy sputtered loudly, wincing in pain when it was too much for his head, “ew, no, not that bastard,” he pouted sitting back down, “also he’s my cousin, that would be so weird if we liked, dated. It’s like marrying my uncle!” 

“Now that’s a sight,” Wei Ying grinned from where he was secretly listening in and readying all kinds of black mail against these two juniors. “Imagine Young Mistress Jin coming down in his sparkling red hanfu,” he wiped away a fake tear, “beautiful.”

“Young Mistress‽” 

“Young Mistress,” Jingyi hummed, testing the words on his tongue, “you know Senior Mo, that’s a good one you got there, since you call Sizhui a bastard I’ll call you Young Mistress!” 

“No!” Jin Ling cried, finding no fun in the way this conversation was going, “I’ll tell on you to Hanguang-Jun! There has to be a rule at the Cloud Recess, about respecting your peers!” 

“Funny, you think you’re equal enough with me to be considered a peer!” 

“Oh yeah, I’ll tell Sizhui about your stupid little crush, imagine how embarrassing that is going to be!” Jin Ling’s face got all dark as he laughed at the horror that was shifting on Jingyi’s face, “he’ll not know how to put you down that he’d probably say yes! Forever to be mocked as a cut-sleeve!” 

Jingyi whined softly, eyes suddenly lacking all playfulness to now a dull look as he glared holes into the floor. Wei Ying was going to step in, maybe give Jin Ling a piece of his mind when the flap to the tent was opened. Lan Wangji was breathing rough, he seemed to be trying to school himself as Sizhui was hiding his face in the crook of his father’s neck. 

“We’re leaving,” Lan Wangji flourished his robe to press Bichen into Wei Ying’s hand and setting Sizhui on the bed beside Jingyi. “Are you checked out?” he addressed to Jingyi who nodded with a dumb expression. 

“Uh,” he stuttered,  as all the attention was on him, “they checked my teeth and my hands, the disciples apologized too.” Jingyi peeked around Lan Wangji to see Sizhui sniffling wetly, the long sleeve of his robe was being used as a tissue to wipe at his eyes. “What happened? Is Lan Sizhui okay?” 

“We are leaving,” Lan Wangji repeated firmly, as he stood up and motioned for Jingyi to move. The Junior jumped to his feet, hurrying out the door as Senior Mo (clutching Bichen to his chest) followed him out. 

Something inside Jin Ling felt like he had to make Sizhui laugh. He’d seen his cousin cry before, dammit, he sometimes was the reason his cousin was crying in the first place. But this cry wasn’t one he’d ever seen before, it was as if someone sucked all the life out of Sizhui. “A-Yuan,” he stammered, raising a hand to stop the boy. This also seemed to stop Lan Wangji who turned around with cold fury and all the jokes about Jingyi’s crush died in his throat. “B-bye,” he whimpered, going back to miming pain from the cut on his skull. 

Sizhui frowned, eyes closing to let two long tears streak down the apples of his cheeks, “bye, Jin Ling,” he offered a hollow smile and a half hearted wave. 

A heavy stone plummeted in Jin Ling’s stomach, watching his cousin retreat from the flap of the tent and Lan Wangji heavy steps following him. The tent felt so cold without any more life left in it, Jin Ling lowering his eyes to his lap as he messed with the purple and gold tassels on Suihua’s hilt. 

Alone…

‘It was his cruel fate,’ he thought gently with a soft shake of his head, gasping at the pain that rooted him in place from moving his skull around. Maybe it was just karma for all the grievances he had done in his past life that he would be destined to be alone. It’s all thanks to that damn uncle of his, Wei Wuxian. It was so much easier to blame someone else so he couldn’t sit there and blame himself for the death of his parents. Uncle Jiang would always slap him across the back of his head and tell him to stop pitying himself so he did the action of slapping his head on himself and tried to suck in all the tears. 

Crying was for babies and Jin Ling already lost so much as a baby, he had to be an adult. 

The flaps of the tent opened up, Jin Ling felt dull hope that Jingyi might have left his sword and would need to come back so he could tease him some more, but in came Uncle Jiang fuming. His sword was already drawn and he let out a battle cry before slamming the energy filled sword into the medicine cabinet. The herbs in the jars shattered, sending shards of tiny mirrors across the dirt floor and at Jin Ling’s hanging feet. 

“Where is he!” Jiang Cheng rasped, turning around to show his blood shot eyes and teeth clenched so hard that the vein in his jaw was popping out. “Where is Mo Xuanyu?” He snapped, grasping Jin Ling by his shoulder to give him a dull shake. 

“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling yelped, his shoulder bursting in pain, he pushed hard on Uncle Jiang’s chest sending the man to stumble back and tripping over a rock sticking up from the ground. He fell in slow motion, hands coming to catch himself, but he gave a gasp as his hand came back bloody from the glass shattered on the ground. “I-” He could feel the hot tears as he rubbed at the painful throbbing in his upper arm, “what is wrong with you ‽ ” 

The only thing he could do was run, his brain moving a mile a minute as he looked at the blood slowly pooling on the floor and the bruise on his arm as he grasped Suihua and got the hell out of there. When he got out of the flap he ran straight into two disciples, their swords already drawn and completely confused at seeing him. Everything felt too raw, his brain kept playing the way his uncle held him with so much rage, like he was going to be the next person to be stabbed by Sandu. 

Never in his life had he experienced this kind of fear, one that felt like smashing a wall that had been so lovingly put up. He felt like his Uncle was so furious, blind with his own rage, that it felt as if Jin Ling was going to be the next person to stand in front of the man’s blade. Why did nobody tell him about the intertwining vines of grief and anger?

Pushing past the disciples, he took off like he was being chased. He fumbled through tree ridden paths, tumbling and gasping with every burning breath as he came to a terrifying halt at the mouth of a large river. Small pebbles bounced around his feet from his sudden stop, brain finally shutting down as he collapsed into a heap. The first sob he made was heart wrenching, pulling out every vocal cord in his throat as he ripped at his robe and his hair. His breath was a staccato performance, trying to fight back the urge to shout to the heavens. 

Standing at the stream, his knuckles were turning white from the way he gripped Suihua. The sheath of the sword rattled as he dropped it like it was a hot coal. The sword clattered to the ground, shining in the sun from the expensive jeweled embellishments and luxurious tassels. It wasn’t even his sword, it was his father’s. The one who the Ghost General stuck his fist through and killed for no good reason. He had seen the General before, watching the man work with a fascinating amount of strength and skill, but with awe only came fear and jealousy. He was so close to the man, he could have finally stabbed the son of a bitch after he defeated the Dancing Lady, but he froze.

His whole body couldn’t move, it was as if someone put a spell on him and his arms were glued to his side. The corpse had turned and looked at him and he was dead before he even knew it. Jin Ling was shaking, he knew he was, he could see the way his hands were vibrating with every movement as he reached down and picked Suihua back up. Testing the weight of her blade in his hand.

What makes a sword a sword? A question so deep even he couldn’t think of the answer. Does the sword have guilt? Does she cry at night whenever she is sheathed into an innocent man, or does she cackle loudly and hide behind her sharp veil. Does Suihua trust Jin Ling like she once trusted Father? What has she seen, who has she killed for justice, all of it wracked his brain like a bull in a china shop. The yellow of her hilt made him sick, a kind of sickness that was like his whole body was rejecting itself, he was hot all over like a fever. 

Glancing up he was met with the bumbling stream and all he could think of was finally feeling cold again. Cold like the lonely snowflakes, cold like inky fall breezes, cold like a corpse that had never been found. Cold. 

Without a thought in the world, he flung himself face first into the water. The icy streams was like a shocking breath of air as he felt the pattering waves on hot cheeks and raw eyes. Something in his brain told him to just drown himself. To just never lift up his head and wait until his throat screams for air. He chickened out the first time, using his hands in the icy water to push himself up and let out a ragged breath with a wet cough. Everything felt numb, his fingers were prickles in the water and chest moving at a mile a minute as he dumped his head right back in the water. 

“What would Mother and Father think when I get into heaven?” he thought to himself, hands slowly becoming a fist as he struggled in the water. Would Mother be sad that he only lived for thirteen years before drowning himself in a small river right outside camp, or would she welcome him into his arm. Her touch warm and cheeks bright and rosy. Father would roll his eyes and place a heavy hand on his back and ask him about what he learned through these cruel years. His hugs would feel like home, like the way Sizhui melts into his Father’s embrace. 

He wanted to die, he wanted to be with parents. 

With a gasp, he felt the back of his robe pulled back with immense strength, his body flying back from the water as he laid on the pebbles. His body felt heavy as he was pressed into someone’s chest, his own was rapidly taking breath and tears streaming down his cheeks as he clawed at the body. The words on his tongue felt heavy, not even feeling like his own language as he struggled to see through blurry eyes. It was through a couple more breaths that he was able to make out the curve of Uncle Jiang’s jaw. The man’s thick fingers were running through his limp, wet hair and the other rubbing down his spine. 

A furry head bumped between them, Fairy whining as she licked at Jin Ling’s cold lips and cheeks. “A-Ling,” Uncle sobbed, his whole body shaking, Jin Ling noticed. Maybe they were both shaking, but he felt so hot and raw. “A-Ling I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he rambled without any thought. 

He felt like a doll, his head numbly moving with every movement as a dry robe was wrapped around his shoulder and the doctor that he previously saw was pulling up his eyelids. Jin Ling felt empty, like a piece of himself finally cracked and he finally broke. The only person he thought he could trust ripped him from his happy ending. “Why,” he coughed, feeling the hot tears begin streaming down his cheeks as he grasped at his Uncle’s forearm.

“Why what, A-Ling?” Uncle Jiang's eyes were searching for anything, his hand was like a hot brand pressed to the boy’s wet cheek. 

“Why did you stop me from seeing my momma?” His words were thick as he loosely fell against the pebbled floor, Uncle Jiang’s eyes were as big as saucers and mouth in a gape. He was shaking, Uncle was the one shaking. Jin Ling could see his hand vibrating back and forth as the doctor began yelling at him. 

“Hurry!” She cried grasping at Uncle’s shoulder, “he might have water in his lungs, we need to take him to the infirmary.” 

That was enough to rattle some kind of sense into Uncle Jiang’s skull as he picked up Jin Ling and pressed the boy tightly to his chest. They were running, but Jin Ling felt so tired, eyes slipping into the unconscious blackness of his messed up brain. However, before he could succumb to the tiredness he felt Uncle Jiang press his head into the crook of his neck and he said, 

“I’m sorry, but you won’t be seeing your mom for a long time, A-Ling.” 

A heavy sob wracked through his tiny chest, fingers grasping the lapels of his Uncle’s robe. A kiss was pressed to his forehead, his lips trembling as he murmured and apologized for every wrong doing he had ever done in his life. However, they just felt so empty to Jin Ling.

Everything was just… empty. 

___❀___

Sizhui and Jingyi walked ahead of the elders, Wei Ying still found himself still holding Bichen to his chest, even when they had left hours ago from the Jiang Camp. His heart was beating out of his chest as he looked at the fury that was dancing in Lan Zhan’s eyes. The minute he saw the man enter the room, he could feel the sudden drop of temperature and the prickles under his skin from the last time that look was directed at him. That memory though, were a long… long time ago, but it didn’t help the salt it was rubbing into his many raw wounds. 

During his younger years, ones before he had given up his golden core for his little brother, it was a fun past time to try and get Lan Zhan to show emotion. For so long, Wei Ying had thought the boy was just a blank canvas with no movement of his face. He had shown the young man a picture of a man and a woman sharing ecstasy and it made Lan Zhan blush to his hairline, it was hilarious, it made him laugh for weeks every time he thought about it. At the time he knew it must have been an obsession, some kind of childish dance of making friends, not a crush. That would come later in time, but now older he now looks back with a smile and thinks that maybe, just maybe, it was kind of a crush. 

During the night when A-Yuan was conceived, he had truly seen that blank face show every emotion. To watch as his eyebrows furrowed in his own ecstasy, but to also see that smirk like he was the king of the world. His grasp was so gentle, yet so firm as he felt the man fill his glass and then overflow it to the point he knew nobody else would make him feel like that ever again. Whenever he could see even an inkling of sadness in his lover’s deep gold eyes Wei Ying could feel his own heart cry out. He couldn’t even fathom the grieving his soulmate had gone through for him, to know that their souls were ripped from each other. Time and time again, grief would always be the price paid for love.

Reaching forward he laid a hand on Lan Zhan’s arm, those furious golden eyes met his, the tightness of his forearm was like as tight as a guqin string. He stroked the soft fabric of his sleeve, giving a strained smile and a tilt of the head, “Lan Zhan,” he offered with no urge to do anything else. He just wanted his beloved to know he was right there and he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

Lan Zhan lifted his other hand, placing it over top of Wei Ying’s. In Mo Xuanyu’s body, his hand was so small compared to the calloused musician’s hand. One time, in his first life, their hands were once the same size, so perfectly they’d fit each other when they held hands. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was so quiet that the two younger disciples didn’t even stop to turn around. 

It was like the ground swallowed himself up, the dirt stopping Wei Ying in his steps as the fingers holding his hand on the muscled forearm grasped at his own, “How?” he asked, trying to look under Lan Zhan’s bowed head that hid his face.

The older shook his head, jaw clenched tightly, “Wei Ying,” he spoke again before letting go of their hand. 

The silence between the group was excruciating, it felt like the world had ended and nobody was truly ready to acknowledge the dumpster fire that was their life at the moment. They climbed the stairs to the Cloud Recess with no complaints, Wei Ying couldn’t really find himself to complain when the air was so heavy, so he just clasped Bichen a little tighter and breathed through his nose. 

Slowly as they passed familiar trees and the landmarks of steps, everything felt too familiar and so raw. Wei Ying paused at the gates of the Cloud Recess, watching as the two Juniors waltzed in with Lan Zhan behind them. The man in white turned slowly, before reaching out a hand and a soft smile drawn on his lips, “come,” he said so passionately that it made his cheeks hurt from smiling. Grasping the other’s hand, they climbed the last few steps and watched in deft silence as Sizhui and Jingyi took the Ghost Sword safely tucked into a magical pouch and were instructed to take it to Grand Master Qiren. 

The name alone made Wei Ying shake to his core, ugh, why couldn’t that guy just finally kick the bucket. It would be so much easier if he didn’t have to look out for that old bastard every turn of the Recess. When the Juniors were finally out of view, Lan Zhan took Wei Ying’s arm and they began to walk to the perimeter of the Cloud Recess. It was as if nothing had changed, the silence that permeated across the mountains was gentle, music to one’s ear as tiny wind chimes danced in the wind and the occasional flap of Gusu Embellished flags waved at them. Even the porches of the inner houses still creaked gently with every step, almost like the floorboards knew where they were placed. 

Everything in the Cloud Recess was quiet and so musical. Making a loud noise felt like a crime and you’d have to cry to the Mountain Gods so they didn’t strike you down. Lan Zhan looked so ethereal as he gazed at every skittering koi fish and hummed to every disciple that bowed to him. The perfect cabbage of the Recess didn’t change either. They strolled until they got to a small back road, the packed dirt of the path was clean from fallen leaves and twigs. It was short, but calming as they went through a gnarled opening of a tree trunk, cut so the path could flow through it, but to not kill the tree. Through a small fenced in area there was a small building with the words, ‘Quiet Room,’ written in elegant scripted above the entrance. 

“My home,” Lan Zhan's voice was like a sword slice to the soft silence as he guided Wei Ying to the entrance. He felt numb as he passed through the doors, taking an unsure seat at the small table in the middle of the room. The Jingshi was just like the name stated, quiet. The table he sat at was smooth and with only a minimum amount of cuts and ink stains. A stack of papers were piled high on one of the corners, on further inspection he realized they were essays about night hunts. They were edited by red ink, that Wei Ying was able to scout the inkstick sitting propped in an inkstone. 

“Do you teach?” he asked, looking up to see Lan Zhan pause at filling the small tea cup with a yellowing liquid. 

The man nodded, gazing at the paper with fondness, “The class under Sizhui,” he responded quietly, setting the one cup on the table before moving towards the floor. Wei Ying made a yelp as he watched Lan Zhan lift the floorboard, but made a louder sound of shock as he saw the tell-tale coloring and designs of a bottle of Emperor’s smile. “Do you want this?” he asked, setting the jar on the table. 

Wei Ying nodded mutely, uncorking the alcohol with quick fingers and then immediately chugging the liquid. It burned so familiar and warmed his belly. “Did you start drinking after all these years?” he teased, resting his chin on his knuckles.

“No,” Lan Zhan took a sip of the tea with a soft hum at the taste, “collected for you.”

“For me?” Wei Ying could feel the hot feeling in his stomach again. He forced himself to squash it down, if Sizhui was Lan Zhan’s son he had to have another wife so he tried to change the subject, “I never thought that I could still be alive.” 

It felt like the whole room froze, Lan Zhan’s cup poised so delicately in the air as his eyes looked down at the saucer. Gently, he set the cup on the plate and folded his hands on his lap, “That day when you fell,” he paused, closing his eyes with a frown, “Jiang Wanyin insisted on looking for you under the cliff, but he could only find bones.” 

“He never found my body?” Wei Ying asked and watched as his once beloved cultivation partner shook his head and looked up with such fierceful gold eyes. His hand moved across the table, resting it in Lan Zhan’s space, “what about you? D-did,” he stuttered, cursing himself inwardly for his cowardness, “did you look for my body?” 

Lifting his hands from his lap, Lan Zhan covered up the smaller hand, “Of course,” he promised, squeezing the palms of their hands together, “Three years later I went to the cliff and all I found was bones.” 

“Three years?” Wei Ying lifted a brow, “why three years later?”

His hand was squeezed a little tighter, leaning down he tried to search the other’s pained face. “These sixteen years…” he hissed through clenched teeth, “I was put in seclusion to mourn.” 

“Baobei,” Wei Ying could feel the prick of tears in his eyes as he pulled Lan Zhan’s hand from the table and pressed a dry kiss to the top of his knuckles. Everything told him that he shouldn’t, but be damned they were once cultivation partners. At one point, Wei Ying believed they were soulmates, two people that fit together so perfectly and knew each other so deeply. “If I say I also don’t know where I’ve been these sixteen years, will you believe me?” 

Lan Zhan finally looked up, unclasping their hands to wipe away the tears that were now streaming down Wei Ying’s cheeks, “most ardently,” he promised, trying to put every syllable with passion and meaning. 

He gave a wet laugh, leaning into the warm palm of Lan Zhan’s hand, “all these years, beloved,” he closed his eyes, feeling like a cat as he rubbed against the rough skin, “did you really believe in me back then?” 

Though no words were spoken, the way Lan Zhan leaned across the table and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth was enough of an answer. Wei Ying lifted his own hand to cup the apple’s of the man’s cheek, smiling all teeth. He felt so happy, he felt so full that he couldn’t even express why he was so sad earlier. However, the eating guilt in his stomach tasted like the acid of vomiting. 

‘Why did he deserve this?’ He wanted to ask. Who looked down and promised him, the creator of inhumane cultivation, a second chance. He didn’t deserve to be alive, he didn’t deserve the attention that he was lavishing in like a cat licking up fresh milk. So he pulled away, watching Lan Zhan’s eyes as he sat back down and looked at the cup. Wei Ying felt trapped and he couldn’t fight the dark pit that swirled in his stomach. 

“I’m going for a walk,” he stated softly, placing both hands on the table to lift himself up and to stare at Lan Zhan who nodded his head with no emotion. “I want to look around.” 

“Take your time,” Lan Zhan answered wrongly. He should have begged Wei Ying to stay, to not step out the Jingshi’s door and climb down the porch steps. He should have offered to walk the other down the dirt path, through the gnarled tree and across the pebbled walkway. Yet, in a perfect world he couldn’t think of a reason why Lan Zhan would ever do such a thing. He remembered the man once wanted to lock him and his son away in that same Jingshi, forced to shape themselves to every rule etched onto the large stone he looked upon. 

He stood in the middle of the rock garden, a small smile playing on his lips as he remembered kneeling in this same place back when he was forced to take summer classes. Lan Zhan had looked so concerned at the top as the steps, having seen his shoulders shaking he had thought he was crying after punching Jin Zixuan, but Wei Ying was just messing with a couple of ants that unfortunately walked by. Back then everything felt so innocent, he had his brother, his older sister and not a care in the world as he messed with Grand Master Qiren and got an emotion out of Lan Zhan. 

On those same porch floorboards he had chased after his brother, swinging at each other with wide smiles as Yanli scolded them with soft words. Why did they have to go to war, why did he have to be targeted for such actions, why was he alive? Again that question hung in the air. Why out of everyone that was sacrificed during the Burial Mountain raid, he was the only person to walk away. Sure, Mo Xuanyu was a crazy kid who wanted revenge on his cruel foster parents and brother, but who in the world was the last cut on his arm for? 

Pausing in thought, Wei Ying noticed that he had wandered far away from the rock garden and was now standing at the doors of the Library Pavilion. The view from the porch was fascinating, watching the heavy fog drift over the mountains and gentle waterfalls burst from their sources to end into large ponds. He remembered being in this pavilion as a child, teasing Lan Zhan with porn and long rambles. He was like a young boy pulling at his crush’s pigtails, so excited to get even a glance of gold eyes. 

And later, far away in the Dafan Mountains, he remembered those piercing gold eyes, staring into his soul as he felt pressure in his stomach from every thrust. He had cried out and Lan Zhan shushed him to whisper how much he loved him and that time Wei Ying believed him. He still believed that Lan Zhan loved him. The man wouldn’t have gone out of his way to house him when he came back to life if he didn’t truly love him. 

Their duet, their A-Yuan, the baby radish who cooed like a little bird and had made Lan Zhan smile with his teeth was gone. Was there any reason that Lan Zhan would’ve needed to fake his love now they didn’t have the chain of a child between them. 

Closing his eyes, he could still remember that day. Sitting on top of the Wen Mansion and watching as Jin Guangshan lifted the urn with A-Yuan and Wen Qing’s bodies and scattered the ashes. How the crowd of cultivators roared with applause. The look on Lan Xichen’s face when he said baby, the way Lan Zhan collapsed onto his knees, Jiang Cheng’s trapped words. It was a day he wished he could just close his eyes and forget. To never ever think of it again and pretend like it didn’t haunt his every waking moment. 

Pushing off from the railing, Wei Ying found himself just moving to move. His feet were like a sword, carrying him without a care in the world as he found himself standing in the foreway of the Cold Springs. The bamboo created almost a stained glass effect on the ground, creating an angelic effect across the man who sat in the pool. A smile pulled on his cheeks as he saw the black ponytail brushing the cold water, he began walking forward without a thought in the world to join Lan Zhan. 

But he found himself stopping, his heart feeling like it shattered into pieces as he stared at Lan Zhan’s bare back. It was gruesome, bringing a shaky breath out of his tight lungs from just the image of the large, long and puffy scars that crisscrossed with no pattern across the man’s back. He couldn’t even count how many scars as they disappeared under the water. He took a step back, almost terrified that he even saw that in the first place, 

“Whipped?” He whispered and Lan Zhan took that time to turn around, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. It would have been cute if it wasn’t in the scenario. Grabbing the inner robe off the side of the rocks, Lan Zhan covered up his back and stood in front of the smaller boy. 

“You’re back from your walk,” Lan Zhan said simply. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying couldn’t ignore those scars as he touched the other’s shoulder softly, “the whips on your back?” 

“Don’t.” He was firm as he stepped away from Wei Ying’s touch. Lan Zhan hated those scars and he definitely didn’t want his beloved to see the pain he had suffered all those years. Thirty-three discipline whips to his back for the thirty-three elders he had attacked during the siege of the Burial Mound. It was something he wasn’t proud of, but something he would never change. Wei Ying was dead and at the time he also thought Sizhui was dead so with blind pain he ran to the Burial Mound. 

A group of Lan disciples had broken the force field and came to collect their wayward Second Young Master. They had spouted dirt about him being cursed and how Wei Ying had truly done his worst to the most righteous man. Jiang Waynin was leading a raid to the Burial Mound and even if Wei Ying was dead it was still his home and Lan Zhan had defended it with the best of his being. 

“You’ve always been a model student,” Wei Ying’s words were soft as he circled around Lan Zhan, the bamboo flute he had made to soothe the fairy twisted around in his fingers, “what on earth did you do to deserve such a harsh punishment?” 

He didn’t want to say, didn’t want to make Wei Ying hate himself anymore than the man already did. 

“Answer me.” Wei Ying pleaded, eyes growing wet. 

“Hanguang-Jun!” A voice broke through, Lan Zhan taking a soft breath of relief when he saw Jingyi soaring down the dirt path with two other disciples in his dust. They stopped on the back of their heels and bowed all in different heights, “Hanguang-Jun,” Jingyi repeated with rasping breaths. 

“What happened?” he asked, shrugging on the thicker robe to cover up his under-robe. 

“It’s the Underworld Chamber!” Jingyi pointed in the direction of the pavilion, “Grand Master summoned the soul, but we can’t control it!” 

That was all Lan Zhan needed to hear before they went rushing off. The porch steps squeaked much louder than they should, the windchimes thrummed like war calls, the banners didn’t wave kindly. Everything felt wrong. They got to the large pavilion to watch as the heavy doors were thrown open and Sizhui was casted from the room, he landed roughly on his back. A spew of dark blood gushed from his mouth as he laid on the floor trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of him. 

“Sizhui!” Lan Zhan cried, rushing to his son to help him stand up. 

The younger fell heavily into the senior’s arms, vision dizzy as he tried to balance himself. He could hear Senior Mo asking him if he was okay, but he was too busy trying to chase the swirling cloud from his vision. “What happened?” Father grasped at his arm, petting Sizhui on the back. 

“Father,” he tried to focus on the grounding gold eyes, “Shugong was associating with the sword spirit, but it suddenly got agitated and became extremely powerful.” with the pad of his thumb, Father swiped away the strip of blood that was running down Sizhui’s chin, “It’s not something we can control at all.” 

“Damnit,” Senior Mo hissed, moving to the heavy door of the Underworld chamber. With the stroke of his finger he created a red talisman, the lock on the door that forced disciples from entering during dangerous situations such as one they were in now, groaned open. Father and Senior Mo rushed in and when Jingyi and Sizhui went to join them, they ran face first into the heavy door. 

“Of course they locked us out,” Jingyi snapped, kicking the door with his foot. They waited outside with anxiety jumping like fleas on their skin. Pressing their ears to the door they could hear the sounds of guqin and at first a terrible sounding flute solo. Jingyi made a few nasty remarks until Rest was finally played correctly and the chaos that was bursting from the doors finally quieted. 

Sizhui could feel his breath in the back of his throat, no words able to pass as he waited and waited, wishing he could just be inside there with his father. It felt like a thousand years until the door finally opened to reveal the sword was covered by the Clarity Bell. There was a dark mist that was slowly pushing its way through the small cracks of the bell, wafting in the air with a rotting smell. Senior Mo had one hand resting on the bell as he looked at the mist with anger and confusion. 

Father raised himself from the guqin, crossing the room to stand behind Senior Mo. “This resentful energy is familiar.”

“It’s the Stygian Tiger Amulet,” Senior Mo eyes were as wide as saucers as he turned to Father. 

Sizhui felt his stomach drop to the floor.

___❀___

The night felt to creep on them like the terrifying mist that was creeping from the bell. Hastily, Master Qiren was taken from the Underworld Pavilion and brought back to the Jingshi. Sizhui could feel his heart in his throat as he watched two disciples begin filling a bucket of water to carry back. 

The Stygian Tiger Amulet. Everyone knew that Amulet and everyone also knew the creator of said amulet was Sizhui’s mom. To think there was a sword hidden away in the Underworld Pavilion that had the same energy made his skin prickle. He had heard it before, those who said his mother truly never died, that he escaped since there was no body under the cliff. 

Instead of helping, Sizhui gently pushed back from the group, diverting from the main path of the Jingshi and into the woods. He took an older path, one that was never cleaned. There were large logs that fell into the path, leaves piled up in corners from attempts to rake. Nobody took this path, but Sizhui himself and his father. 

His father took to this path everytime the weather grew cold and the leaves on the tree began to change to dark hues of red and orange. There in the middle of the clearing was a headstone, one slightly withered from the elements with a gold nameplate embedded into the stone. Beside the rock was a golden bowl that they would sometimes fill with oranges and apples during holidays. 

Sizhui took a seat in the grassy area, lowering himself to the ground as he bowed a few times. His upper chest rattled like a drum as he finished and placed his hand upon the engraved words on the spirit tablet in the stone. 

‘Wei Ying’ the characters spelled out, Sizhui would've known with his eyes closed from all the times he’s been here. “Mama,” he finally spoke, feeling his voice crack with every shake of his body, “sorry to bother.” 

As the words left his lips, he found his cheeks grow hot and tears began spilling down his cheeks. So vividly he could picture the conversation that happened just this morning. He could picture Uncle Jiang’s heated face, could see the veins that protruded from under his skin as he struggled to speak his brother’s name. The way that he blamed his father for the death of his mother. 

“Were you watching over me today?” He asked the air, gazing upwards towards the sky, “it’s been quite a day,” Sizhui smiled to the hands on his lap, “but I want you to know that your amulet has been found, and I know they told us you destroyed it, but we found it again.”

A bird flew overhead, its large black wings created a ripple through the dark shadows. Sizhui watched every movement of wings, seeing the animal propel its body and wail up at the rising moon. “Do you really think that Father was the cause of your death?” He asked the headstone, before finding himself staring back at the ground, “I want to ask him about you, I want to see him light up like Uncle Jiang did when he spoke of you. But mother I’m so scared.” 

The air was cold, it drew a shiver out of Sizhui as he closed his eyes. The hot tears kept falling no matter what he tried. He wanted to sit here forever, to just wait at the headstone that had no body under it. He remembered the night Father had shown him the headstone, telling him that it was just a land marker for them to give funerary gifts and to remember mother by. 

It was mother’s birthday that day. Father had brought his guqin to play mother their song. Sizhui began burning the spirit money, taking each time to wish mother a happy birthday and a peaceful rest for every paper he burned. Mother’s birthday was melancholy, a hard thing to understand since he was eleven and had just figured out his true identity. 

Father had told him that every year on Mother’s birthday he would do these funerary practices alone since he didn’t want Sizhui to witness them. The innocence he protected with such prowess was gone with the wind, like the fall air does to loose leaves on a tree. To be told that when he was just a baby he was thought to be dead and the looks he got from those who recognized Sizhui from the likeness of his mother. He’d take anything, but the pitied stares and the occasional yells. No wonder he was never allowed to go into town without a hood to cover his face, but at the time he just thought Father was an overprotective tyrant.

Sizhui’s thoughts were uprooted when a body landed heavily on their knees beside him, he turned quickly to watch Jingyi bow at the marker. “Jingyi?” He cried, pressing a hand to his drumming heart, “don’t sneak up on me!” 

“I called your name like twice!” Jingyi whined with a wink, before turning to the plate, “hi Sizhui’s mom! Nice to talk to you again, but I have to bring him to the Jingshi.” 

“How did you know I would be here?” Sizhui asked, his cheeks heating up from the familiar way that Jingyi spoke to his mother. It made his heart patter around even faster in his chest, like fluttering butterflies. 

“Just a hunch, Hanguang-Jun wants to speak to you and he got all scary.” 

The boys turned back to the grave marker, both of them taking the time to bow to Mother one last time. Sizhui sent a quiet prayer of clarity, knowing exactly what Father wanted to speak to him about. It scared him, knowing he had done so carefully to skirt around the existence of Mother, but now he had to force it so brutally in conversations. It was like someone had stabbed him in the stomach and shouted at him to not get the floors dirty. The hypothetical person was an alien to think that his blood wasn’t going to mar the floor.

When Sizhui stood up, Jingyi followed, grasping at the other’s sleeve to catch him from turning around and walking away forever. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Sizhui could feel his face getting hot. His ears felt like they were ready to burst into flame as he turned towards the other with hesitance. “Have you visited my mom’s grave before?” 

The question hung in the air, similar to the moon that casted it’s light on the clearing. Jingyi’s face was unreadable, lips falling open with no words falling. “I-'' he laughed, an anxious hand coming up to rub at his neck, “I mean, it’s just really quiet here,” Jingyi paused, lips quirked up, “I know, the Cloud Recess is supposed to be quiet, but like, here… it’s a different kind of quiet. Like I can hide away.” 

“I feel the same,” Sizhui nodded, his hand softly tracing the speckled craters in the makeshift headstone. “Knowing that there is a grave for my mom made everything feel a little better. I used to think his existence was wiped from this earth.” 

They started to walk after that, Sizhui finding his breath in the icy night air and Jingyi was humming to himself to fill the silence. Before they had strayed to the main path, Jingyi stopped and glanced awkwardly. Sizhui tilted his head with a soft laugh, “what?” 

Jingyi laughed back, the same crinkled eyes and a smile full of teeth that made Sizhui gut drop and butterflies begin to feel like they were crawling up their throat, “hey, it’s stupid,” Jingyi clapped him on the shoulder and then pulled the other close, “I know whatcha thinking man, the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Everyone’s been talking about it since brainless Senior Mo ever spouted about it.” 

“That’s my mom’s amulet,” Sizhui muttered, toeing his foot in the ground to stop them from moving, “everyone knows that. I heard what Lan Liu said when we were getting water for Shugong’s fever, if the sword is contaminated with the spirit of the amulet that must mean my mom is actually alive.” 

“And how does that make you feel?” Jingyi clasped their hands together, leaning down to try and catch Sizhui’s expression, “the thought of your mom actually being alive?” 

“I don’t know,” he did know actually. It scared the living shit out of him to think that his mom was actually alive. His conversation with Uncle Jiang, or probably he should call the other Sect Leader Jiang, was playing in his head like a buddhist mantra. His mom was out of his mind, his mood was testy towards the end and hopped up on power, he was a ticking time bomb. However, it also made him angry, angry at his mom for leaving when he did and leaving Father. Knowing the other was going to grieve him so fiercely. The tears were coming up again and Sizhui grimaced at how much he cried today, “I cannot describe the way I feel.” 

“Then don’t,” Jingyi offered, squeezing their hands, “I don’t know what Sect Leader Jiang had said to you or Hanguang-Jun, but it definitely wasn’t something good. Your dad is petty,” Jingyi rolled his eyes at the squinty glare he got, “you cannot deny it! He is! But I’m not going to say whatever Sect Leader Jiang said wasn’t true either.” 

“He blamed my father for the death of my mother,” Sizhui replied smoothly, “He said if it wasn’t for the obsessive love that my father inflicted on my mom that they’d never be in this mess to begin with.” 

“Oh,” Jingyi muttered.

The wind seemed to get colder, crispy leaves beginning to cast up into small tornadoes. The trees shook with the power while birds sang their songs. “I think it’s hard for Sect Leader Jiang to look at me,” Sizhui shook his head quickly, “Father said that I look like my mother and I think Sect Leader Jiang wishes that I didn’t remind him of my mother. To stare in the same eyes that killed his sister, I-”

“You don’t have your mother’s eyes,” Jingyi cut off quickly, 

Both boys turned to look at each other, Sizhui's hands were shaking so obviously that Jingyi moved and grasped them. His hands were warm, a little smaller, but so warm they felt so so… calming. Jingyi searched Sizhui’s face, wide eyes seeming to dart to every blemish and freckle, “you don’t have your mother’s eyes,” he repeated firmly, squeezing their hands together, “and you definitely don’t your father’s eyes either, you have Sizhui’s eyes?”

“What do you mean? You’re making no sense.” 

“I-” The shorter laughed loudly, pulling the other along the path towards the Jingshi. “It’s just kind of funny that you think you have your mom’s eyes, because I think they should be in his skull! People may say you got his eyes, but you hadn’t seen any of that crap he had done, so why would you have his eyes.” 

They stopped in front of the Jingshi, Father was already at the door, his face as cold and emotionless to hide his pain. Senior Mo was saying something, but he was being pushed out by a hand on his lower back. On his face was that mask made of stone that Sizhui hadn’t seen since the man was whipped by Sect Leader Jiang. Senior Mo laughed, patting Father on the cheek in a fond way, before passing them on the step. 

“You’re wearing your mask,” Sizhui didn’t need to turn around to see the way Senior Mo’s shoulders hitched up or the way Father shook his head and retreated back into the Jingshi. 

Senior Mo let out a laugh, one cold and devoid of any kind of joy as he proceeded a little further. Jingyi turned around to look at his frail figure. “Nothing you need to worry about boys,” he flicked them off with the wave of his hand, “I’m just afraid of seeing some old friends.” 

He laughed again, before ‘tsking’ to himself, continuing down his path. Jingyi flicked his head towards the other, a silent goodbye on his lips as he ran after Senior Mo. Sizhui wasn’t sure about his emotions, he truly never knew about his emotions to begin with, but he knew the empty feeling he felt. The boy raised his hand, farther away than he previously was to wave and then disappeared between the trees. 

Taking a deep breath, Sizhui tightened his fist in his palm. He could feel his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palm, the sharp feeling of pain that oozed out. One thing he was sure of was pain. He may have a hard time trying to figure out grief, anger, sadness, but pain was easy. It made everything feel easy, like he could be able to just lean away and let whatever he was feeling just morph to pain. Father said it wasn’t healthy, the scratches on his arms, the way he picked at his nails, working too hard at sword practices so he could feel the pain in his muscles. What did Father know anyways. 

Sizhui lifted his head, similar to what he had seen Jin Ling do when he wanted to act taller than the people around him, he then entered the Jingshi with a chip on his shoulder and a beading of blood on his palm. Father was playing his guqin, hands poised in perfect position. The spare room that used to be his growing up was shut up firmly and he was sure that Uncle Qiren was resting there. 

“How is Shugong?” He asked first, sitting opposite of the playing table. 

Father finished up his line of music, his palm coming down to soothe the quivering strings. “Alive, but barely,” he muttered, glaring at the door with a frown. Sizhui simply bobbed his head, following the gaze to the door, “now, how are you?” 

“Me?” 

“Yes,” he chuckled, closing his eyes, “Yes, A-Yuan, how are you?” 

The mood dropped at that, Sizhui eyes falling to his lap and Wangji looked away towards the ceiling. “What Uncle Jiang said,” Father’s eyes moved from the ceiling and down to Sizhui and he could feel the words dying in his throat.

“Do not listen to the Jiangs,” Father narrowed his eyes, “I didn’t wish to speak of this.” 

The rocks that had settled in Sizhui’s stomach seemed to lift as he cocked his head, “not to speak of this?” he asked quietly, “how cannot we talk about mother? We’ve been purposely avoiding this conversation for years, why cannot we talk about this now?” 

“Because I don’t wish to speak about your mother,” he responded coldly, standing from the guqin to float across the room to the window. His eyes were keen as he searched the outside, before closing the window, “not now, not ever.” 

“Why not Baba?” Sizhui surged forward in the conversation, underneath his skin Lan Wangji felt his heart give out at the sound of his son's term of endearment, but continued to listen. “You heard what Senior Mo had said, that sword is infected with the Stygian Amulet and Mother’s amulet was supposed to be destroyed. I cannot be the only person that has been told that Mother is alive!” 

“Watch your tone,” Father didn’t even turn to speak to him, eyes focusing on the lattice of the window shutters. 

"Why?” Sizhui demanded, standing up to cross the room. He grasped at his father’s hanfu feeling like a child trying to ground itself, “why can’t we talk about Momma…why is it so hard? Baba, please! Tell me everything...anything? Uncle Jiang told me stories all about him, but I want to hear them for you! It should be easy to speak words about your beloved...  ” 

“It was never supposed to be easy,” When their eyes met, Sizhui could see the gleam of tears in the other’s eyes. He could count on his fingers the time he had seen his own father cry and he was pretty sure this was reason why they hadn’t talked about it in the first, “I will never regret you,” he cupped the boy’s cheek, “I will never regret loving your mother, and not a day passes that I don’t think about your mother… you my boy, remind me so much of him that sometimes I think the best way for you to learn about your mother, is to just have you look in a mirror.” 

There was a pause, a pause so deep it could have been trench. Sizhui leaned into the touch, covering his Father’s much larger hand. The deep veins throbbed in his father’s hand as if the words he spoke made his body ache. “I get up in the morning and I think of everything I could have done better… in the weeks following your mother’s death, your bobo came to stay here in the jingshi with me...and you would sob all through the night...and I knew that no matter how much I or bobo held you...my touch could never be the same as your mother’s…” his voice cracked, Father’s lips pressing together as he steeled himself. Except when he closed his eyes, a long streak of tears casted down his cheeks, his father brought his other hand up to his cheek and rubbed the pads of his thumbs under his eyes. “sometimes I used to stare at Bichen and wish I could just slice my stomach open so I could be with your mother.” 

At this, Sizhui choked out a sob, grasping tightly at the cold fingers on his cheeks, and forcing them into a tight grip with his own. “I’m sorry Father, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

“It isn’t your fault, none of this was ever your fault,” with his free hand, Father wiped away the tears on his cheeks, “the reason I am alive is because I have you, everyone thought you were dead, your ashes were spread across the Never Night Palace.” 

“I’m here, Baba,” Sizhui promised, throwing the hand from his cheek off to hug his father tightly. The moment he remembered the scars that lined his dad’s back and loosened his hold. However, Father grasped him just as tightly, “I want you to be happy, I never want you to feel that grief.” 

“I wish that too,” Father’s voice was muffled, deep enough to shake him to his bones. However, it made him smile as he pulled back and his tears mopped up with a familiar hand. “Stay the night, Sizhui, the Jingshi isn’t right without you here.” 

He would reluctantly agree to staying, even when he felt sick to his stomach. Father dug around in the small box by the window to produce a simple wooden comb with an intricate flower design carved into the top half. He motioned for Sizhui to sit back down at the table and went to work to untangle the head piece out of his son’s hair, being careful to not pull any stray hairs. “You wear your mother’s head piece nicely,” Father noted in a gentle voice as he set the silver cuff and stick onto the table. 

“You told me he never wore it before,” he found his voice, picking up the silver stick to admire the small opal jewels that mirrored magma and fire and dangling diamond tassels. 

“It was a courting gift,” Father responded, gently passing the comb through the thick curls, “he never got the chance to wear it, however I am glad you could wear it.” The elder’s voice was soft and synchronous with the motion of running the comb down his son’s back. In the following moments painfully thinking of the one he lost.   

“Mother loved the color red,” Sizhui laughed, sounding identical to Wei Wuxian and hesitated for a moment before pulling his sleeve up to show the bright red ribbon. When he looked up, he could see the soppy look that Father gave to the ribbon, and yet made no movements to break the steady pace in which he was working at. Although everything within him called to touch the ribbon he hadn't seen since he hid it away in a chest with Wei Wuxian’s other things. 

Sizhui of course knew of the chest as well, he grew up being told never to touch it. When he was old enough to allow his own genetic curiosity to take over he slipped from his linen sheets one night to peak inside the plain wooden chest. Besides the red ribbon, there was a torn piece of wool black fabric, as if it had been ripped away from a piece larger entity of fabric, two bottles of unopened Emperor’s Smile, and a drawing of his father from when he was young, looking stoic as always, but ever so gentle, which other artists had failed to depict in any other painting of Lan Wangji. 

Young Sizhui had heard the slightest lapse in breath echo in the silent Jingshi that night, making him jump a bit not knowing if his father was on the verge of waking up. He had managed to escape back to the safety of his bed with the red ribbon clutched in his hand and soon hidden under his pillow. Sizhui would hold it everynight in between his fingers when he fell asleep until his father went away for a night hunt and he had enough time to learn how to wrap the ribbon so it could be hidden from view over the cover of his Lan robes. 

“Yes, it is my favorite color too,” he nodded, before leaning down to work the ribbon off Sizhui’s wrist. A question was on the tip of lip, but died when he felt his hair be collected into a high ponytail. The ribbon was tied tightly in a nice knot and a small hand mirror was pressed into Sizhui’s hand. Looking through the mirror he could see the flash of red that twisted through his hair, feeling the gravity of the swaying hair as he shook his head back and forth. “You look just like him when he was your age,” he could feel Father’s breath in his ear and a heavy kiss pressed to the side of his head. 

What Sizhui didn't see was his father catching a tear that threatened to fall before it could make its presence known to his son. 

“I miss him,” he said to himself in the mirror, “even if I never met momma, I feel confused and sad.” 

“It’s harder for you, because you never knew what your mother looked like,” Father offered, running a clawed hand through his son’s pin straight locks.

The amulet appeared in Sizhui’s head again, almost like a sudden wave of realization, “The amulet,” he cried, turning around to look at the taller man, “you said there was nothing to use to contact mother’s spirit using inquiry, right?” 

Father seemed to be stumped, his eyebrows furrowing down as he kneeled beside the other, “yes, that is true, what does the spirit sword have anything to do with your mother.” 

“It’s tainted with the amulet, we finally have a piece of mother to contact!” 

“No.” 

“No?!”

“No,” in all the times growing up, Sizhui hadn’t really known his father to get angry. His kind of anger was the type to dwell, for his words to be short coming and tone firm. This was no different, but what usually was a devotion of following, anger rose from its ashes.

“Why?” he demanded, grasping the long fingers before Father could stand up, “we finally could talk to him, you can say goodbye! We could- I don’t know! He could help us with the sword!” 

Even if he was grasping those cold fingers, Father still stood up and walked a few steps away. “There is no use to contact your mother through inquiry.” 

“So you think those rumors of him being alive are true?” he bit back, “you said so yourself, there was nothing left of mom, no bones, no soul, no spirit! This could be a breakthrough!”

“Lan Yuan I said no!”

The house seemed to shake with the wrath that was poked to the surface. Sizhui’s blood ran cold and his eyes fell to the floor. Father's hand was braced against one of the support beams of the house, breath short. 

One time, when Sizhui was younger there had been a disciple that had once called the Cloud Recess their home. He and Father always seemed to butt heads, but Sizhui was sure the only reason why was the disciple tried to act just like his Father. There had to be some kind of inferiority complex, because the man had taken on his resentful energy onto another person. He had wanted to hurt Father for being a better person even while he grieved, so he took the time to befriend Sizhui. 

He’d pull him aside during lessons to give him small candies and they’d sometimes run into each other after sword practice. The disciple, Sizhui had thought at the time, was someone he thought he could trust. The elders certainly didn’t trust him and Father was still struggling with the chronic pains of being whipped, so Sizhui would digress his problems with ease to Su-ge. That was until the disciple had suggested that they go into the town and when they got into a secluded area he let loose a pack of angry dogs. 

Father was much smarter than his young son. He had picked up earlier at what Su She was doing, grooming his son into a false security just to break it. So when the dogs were called so was Lan Wangji who banished the disciple out of the Recess. With the help of Lan Xichen they successfully forced the disciple out for endangering the life of the Sect heir. Sizhui was a mess after that, terrified at every distant dog bark and nursing deep emotional scars. 

Seeing Father so angry, reminded Sizhui of that moment. When Bichen was drawn and Father had slashed a good scar into Su She’s cheek. “I was just-” he tried, feeling his eyes begin to water. 

“Do not go near that sword,” Father’s words were thick with anger as he pushed off the beam to tower over his son’s kneeling body, “for the sake of your mother, don’t meddle where you don’t have to be.” 

“Yes Father.” Sizhui grounded out, feeling all too small in the gaze. He pushed off from where he was sitting and darted for the door. 

Just as he grasped the door handle, he heard his father call his name. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t even want to look in those disappointed eyes. “Sizhui,” he started gently, much like one would do to calm down a scared animal, “I called you here for your own mission.” 

“My own mission?” He repeated the words, finally turning around to see Father holding a small paper butterfly. 

These kinds of butterflies were used to get messages to sect leaders quickly, “Jin Ling went missing today after we left, Sect Leader Jiang asked me to tell you to find him.” 

“Why me? Jin Ling doesn’t like me, if anything he resents me!” 

Father turned to look out the window, “he’s still family, so find the boy in one piece.” 

And without a better answer, Sizhui responded with a type of fury boiling in his stomach, “yes father.”

___❀___

The night had turned to an inky black, Sizhui’s feet quiet as he maneuvered through gravel pathways and around wandering night patrol. In his gut he was terrified, he could feel this terrifying emotion that was trying to cloud his brain, but his heart was steady. Standing in front of the Underworld Pavilion he could feel the grasp of resentful energy that twirled around his golden core. He knew this was a bad idea, he promised Father he wasn’t going to meddle with the sword, but his soul wouldn’t just allow himself to sleep. 

Now that there was no threat, the doors to the Pavilion opened with a heavy creak to reveal the muted room. The rice paper walls were halfway torn down and a candle holder was tipped over, but it wasn’t a weird thing. Sometimes for punishment, the students were instructed to clean up this room since it usually got so thrown around in the first place. The Underworld Pavilion never was one known for it’s neat order, but the chimes and flags outside tried to sway the occasional visitor. 

Crossing the room, Sizhui let his hand trace over the raised design on the bell as he passed. The resentful energy felt like pinpricks on the pads of his fingers and a short question he wanted to ask if this feeling was one his Mother knew all too well. Away from the energy, he could feel his golden core breath the air like a man dying of breath, trying it’s hardest to match the yin and yang inside him that fought for dominance. Gently, he sat at one of the low tables and called forth his guqin. 

Father had gifted him the guqin on his thirteenth birthday a few years back, but it wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the teachings. Most of the time he practiced on Wangji until Father had come to the conclusion that he was rather good and deserved his own. Still, he didn’t possess the power to trap spirits to always answer his questions, but they couldn’t lie. 

He placed two palms on the strings, feeling the energy that began pouring into each sharp string and he played. 

‘Hello?’ 

Pulling his hands from the strings he waited in the darkness, he sent out his spirit to mess with the resentful energy, but only came back empty. Sizhui played again, asking questions in the dark feeling like his own conscious was in a similar state. He asked the resentful energy why it attacked the Mo Manor?

Why did it kill those four people?

Why was it made?

Who did it work for?

Was it his mother?

Where was his mother?

Where was Wei Wuxian?

Where was Wei Ying?

Where in the hell was Lan Ying?

Tell me where my mother is?

Do not ignore me, tell me-

Sizhui lurched forward, his brain was pounding behind his eyes as he felt a hot rush coming from his nose. Under the moonlight, his fingers came back with an inky black substance that must have been his own blood. He closed his eyes, slapping the strings in frustration and moved to the candle holder. It felt so right to grasp at the wooden engraved handles and flip the damn thing over. He watched with a sick satisfaction as the wood smashed onto the floor and scattered like rats. 

Trying to catch his breath, he ripped at the sleeves of his hanfu and began scratching at an itch that could never be quenched. It wasn’t long until the smooth skin broke and he continued his assault on his wrist. 

Someone grabbed him from behind, Sizhui letting out a squeak of surprise as his bloodied wrist was held high in the air. From the grip, he had swore up and down he was going to meet the furious gold eyes of his father, but who he was met with was Senior Mo. The man was without his stone mask, so Sizhui could see those silver eyes searching his face. “Hey,” the man fell to his height, grasping his cheeks in both hands so he was forced to stare at each other, “hey, come on kid, look at me.” 

“Stop,” Sizhui batted at the other uselessly, “let me go Senior Mo.” 

“And what?” The senior lifted a curious eyebrow, “let you continue scratching yourself to death and to break more furniture. Nah, not on my watch.” 

“You don’t understand anything,” He hissed, feeling like a child as his tears fell and he couldn’t hide away, “I let your family die Senior Mo, it was my bad calls that now forced you in this mess.” 

“Your bad calls?” Senior Mo repeated with a snort of laughter, “how old are you Sizhui, because I don’t think you're old enough to be making calls. Those people died, because they had to. It was their time and we couldn’t do anything.” 

An ugly sob cut through the room, Sizhui finally breaking away from the hands to stumble backwards onto his butt, “I don’t want to let anymore people die on my watch, that spirit in the sword was coming after us.” 

The strange man stood up from his crouched position, he walked towards the table where the guqin still sat with specks of blood across her board, “how do you know that the sword was coming for you? Isn’t it quite presumptuous to think that a spirit so old would be coming for you.” 

“It was planted,” Sizhui responded quickly, “we used those Stygian Lure Flags and those we brought would only work within a radius 2,500 meters,” he paused, a blush rising to his cheeks from his sudden spurt of knowledge, but the look that Senior Mo spurred him on, “the sword had a strong resentful energy, even with our flags it should of just passed through, so that means it had to be planted deliberately by someone with an ulterior motive.” 

The young boy took a sharp breath, his left hand coming up to rub against his sternum to hopefully calm his fluttering heart, “Good analysis,” Senior Mo bobbed his head, patting the space beside him on the table. Sizhui was reluctant, but he took the seat beside the claimed lunatic, “you have studied hard and I don’t doubt your intelligence, no wonder you are Hanguang-Jun’s son, aren’t you?” 

“Yes I am his blood son,” he patted his knee for a hot second as he felt a new wave of thoughts from finally letting the dam spill from information in his head, “why wouldn’t we be responsible? Who is to play God like we did to let those people die and even then we brought this sword home and Shugong had gotten hurt. Who is to blame?”

A firm hand struck Sizhui across the back of his head, he let out another surprised squawk as he glared at the senior, “don’t go thinking it’s your fault!” Senior Mo grinned wide, leaning down so they were face to face, “it’s the person who released the ghost sword into the manor, that is who you are supposed to blame.” 

“You’ve heard the disciples talk,” Sizhui grumbled, pulling his gaze from the other to pat at his bloodied wrist with his sleeve, “they say it was my mom, but they’re dead with no spirit. I cannot even contact him through the guqin.” 

Senior Mo tsked, shaking his head back and forth. Sizhui watched like a keen cat as the sway of the wavy ponytail flip back and forth, “In this world there are a lot of things beyond our control, Sizhui, it doesn’t matter who has done an act, but damn does this cultivation world love to point fingers at the first scapegoat they can find. Even if the person is someone who has been dead for years.” 

At that moment, Sizhui realized how alike Senior Mo and Father were. They didn’t look alike and surely they had two different personalities, but the way they spoke was similar. The years that were hidden behind their eyes spoke much longer than the age of their vessel. “Father once said to me, not everyone can be saved, but the people that have saved your life deserve your eternal gratitude.” 

“Your Father is a smart man,” Senior Mo eyes were crinkled up into two crescent moons, “he has some good advice, but he also is just a man. One cannot blame someone who has been broken.” 

“Father isn’t broken,” Sizhui fought back, “he may have cracks in him, but he isn’t broken! What a cruel thing to say when you cannot even show your face to the cultivators of this world!”

Senior Mo had looked so old at that moment. He had such a youthful face, one with defined cheekbones from lack of eating and a frail body, but at that moment he had looked like he was looking through a much older man’s eyes. He shook his head, a tight laugh on his lip as he stood up and crossed the room to touch the bell, “get some rest, Sizhui, before I tell your Father that you went against his will to speak to the spirit of the sword.” 

“What?!” He blanched, surprised that Senior Mo even knew about their conversation in the first place, “you aren’t the boss of me Senior Mo, we are almost the same age!” His brain told him that Senior Mo was much older than he put on, but he just took that information and smashed it into a box of things to not poke at. 

The night was once again cast into silence, Senior Mo hands were clasped into a prayer as he looked up at the ceiling, “remember what I said to you and Jingyi at the inn, you guys don’t have enough people to dot on you. So just humor me Sizhui, do your mother a favor and have them not worry about you for just one night.” 

And again, Sizhui found himself wanting to just cave with a ‘Yes Sir’ already on his lip, but he never uttered the words. He raised himself from the table, swiping away the blood that was trickling down his cupid’s bow with the back of his hand and sending his guqin back in it’s bag. Before he was fully out the door he felt a warm hand touch his back, Sizhui’s shoulders straightened up and he put up a front. He wasn’t one to trust Seniors, not after what Su She had done to him all those years back. “Find your cousin, bring him back in one piece.” 

Sizhui brushed the hand off his back and left the Underworld Pavilion, he felt as if he truly did speak to his mother’s spirit. Sect Leader Jiang did say that the way Senior Mo acted was similar to his mother, so maybe that was the reason he felt so calm and collected. With a clean fabric in one of his satchels on his hip, he wrapped his bloodied wrist up and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

Tomorrow he had a big day ahead of him.

He had a little cousin to guide back home. 

___❀___

The sun felt heavy against the bare skin of Sizhui’s body, reluctantly he sat up from where he was laying to gaze upon a river so long it felt like it went on for eons. The shore was gentle, lapping it’s way up to touch his toes with icy fingers and then retreating back with a keen smile, ready to strike again. Off in the distance, he could hear the sound of wind chimes and a lull of conversation that felt like it was in a different language. Standing up from where he was laying, Sizhui turned to the shady tree that casted it’s shadow across the dewy grass and pebbled shore. His feet took him before his brain, bare feet dipping into the frigid water until it was up to his knees.

All around him were the thick stalk of lotus plants. The pale pink flowers brushed at his stomach as he moved a few lily pads that migrated towards him. Deeper and deeper Sizhui walked into the water, feeling the soft flowers tickle against his chest, a fish passed in the water, it’s orange and white body withering away to the farther part of the water. He found that the water only made it up to his chest so as he went deeper into the water, he was sure he wasn’t going to drown.

However, as he moved the flowers became more populated, larger and larger they grew to hide his vision. It wasn’t until he heard a soft laughter disturb the flower sweet air was when he was swimming towards the sound. Grabbing the stems of two large lotus pods he pulled them aside to see the figure of another person, standing a great distance away from him. This person had long hair, one that waved around like a cat’s tail in its long ponytail. The person lifted a flower from the garden and held it between hands, before a soft light was produced from the flower. 

Like a dream, the lotus flower began to fly away in the air. It was like watching paper lanterns as all the flowers around him began to glow with a soft golden light, before they began to float away in the air. Sizhui's body was moving, his feet grabbing purchase onto the slimy bottom of the garden that grabbed him and began holding him down. 

The male standing far away turned towards him, their face disturbed by the dozens of lotus flowers that were lifting into the air as Sizhui fought the ground that began swallowing him up. It was like the flick of the light, the lotus garden began to float away to reveal a different landscape. The gooey dirt on the bottom of the garden receded to become a flat rocky surface, the sky that was lovely gusu blue was decreasing into a bruise mixture of dark purples and reds. The person that was obscured became too real for Sizhui as he ran towards them and threw his body onto them. 

The scent of lotus flowers is quite nearly overwhelming now… But the fabric touching that brushes against Sizhui’s cheek is unlike the thin elegant linen of gusu, instead this was warm and layered, the kind of fabrics that people wore in the mountains, where the sun didn't shine. Though the skin of the hand reaching up to brush through Sizhui’s hair, was soft and unlike that of a mountain dweller. This figure had been treated well long enough to have the skin to prove it.  

“Lan Sizhui,” the voice was warm, they smelled of sweet lotus flower and earthy hues. Sizhui grabbed at the back of their robe, feeling the thick gloss of hair that was flapping in the harsh wind, careful not to pull, rather the young boy just allowed his fingertips to twist in the ends. Sizhui wanted nothing more than to remain right where he was inhaling the smell of lotus and feeling the warmth of the one he’d never felt before. Would it be too greedy to ask for the image of their face? Sizhui pulled away only to furiously rub at his eyes to clear the image he couldn't see. The figure pulled Sizhui into a harsh hold, similar to when Senior Mo had hidden him away from the snake that hid in the ground. “Lan Sizhui,” they called gently, as if their words were carried around the world and over the winds just to come back to Sizhui’s ears...like the sweetest melody. Sizhui’s name had never sounded like this before...this voice could never be replicated. 

Sizhui felt like he was melting, and just when he was content enough to bury his face into the warm robes, the figure let out a choked gasp of pain. Everything began to shake, his hands, his face, his chest. His eyes shooting open near painfully Sizhui looked up through the layered fabric meeting the image  of a shiny tip of a sharp blade in the figure’s shoulder and the man let out a whispered breath before collapsing to his knees. Practically a dead weight in his arms, the figure collapsed over Sizhui’s shoulder, bleeding heavily. 

The Lan disciple did not need to see the face of the figure to know that he was in pain. The hand that was grasped with his, was clenched into a tight hold that to the lesser part of Sizhui’s judgement, was actually him gripping the limp hand. Clutching the larger body to his chest in the best hold he could manage, Sizhui felt panic rising in his limbs as the chest of the man became still.

“Mama!” Sizhui screamed, his throat feeling so raw as he grasped onto the wool ebony robe. Sizhui could only scream louder as the body fell away from him, leaving a stark stain of red on his Lan hanfu, their body so cold and unmoving as Sizhui looked up to the new person standing over the body…

Sect Leader Jiang’s face was clear and had an ugly sneer plastered on it as he held Sandu high in the air. Sizhui felt horror rising in the air around him as a roaring cheer began around him, no faces in sight that could be the sources of the cheers. The Gusu blue had long faded away at this point and in its place leaving a mess of muddled red’s and grey’s. 

Sizhui choked over his own tears, crawling forward towards the body and with strained fingers reached out and held the edge of the robes in a death like grip. Everything within Sizhui told him to not let go, and just as he moved to raise his gaze to his uncle, he felt his fingernails digging into his palm with no fabric between to stop the self injury. 

Gently, the corpse of his mother began to disappear, like in the lotus garden the petals began to take towards the sky. The long ponytail disappeared into pink petals, one that twirled in the wind until the corpse was gone and Sizhui was left with a handful of bloody flower petals in his hands. 

Gone. No body to bury and no soul to contact. 

“Sizhui!” With a gasp, the boy being called to wake, sat up straight in his bed. He immediately regretted it since his head bloomed in pain and blood began to furiously dribble down from his nose and jump off his chin. There were two people standing at either side of the bed, Jingyi was gripping his hand still in his sleep wear and devoid of his hair ribbon while Senior Mo was to the left, his long hair pulled in the messy ponytail and face devoid of color. “To the Gods...” Senior Mo cried, using the sheets of the bed to mop the blood that was steadily dripping down Sizhui’s chin. 

Sizhui fell backwards with a thud, his head feeling like it was on fire as he hit the pillow. His eyes blurred and he couldn't process whether they were opened or closed. “What do we do?” He heard Jingyi ask Senior Mo. The man said something so quietly, Sizhui couldn’t understand. Maybe it was the lack of awareness that he felt from his brain...Sizhui felt like the heat and haze were all trying to squeeze it’s way out of his nose and mouth. Jingyi left thudding steps in Sizhui’s head. Hanguang Jun’s only son breathed shakily as Senior Mo sat down on his bed and began petting his hair. 

Everything felt overwhelming, lost and at the same time so real. The cold hand on the side of Sizhui’s head was like a breath of fresh air as he leaned into the ice cold touch. He felt his cheek rub against the cold skin and the pin needles that illuminated his cheek slowly soothed.

Senior Mo was saying things...maybe? The young disciple’s body became racked with chills, even though the heat seemed ever growing, and there was an urge to pull the soft linen blankets closer to his aching body. Through his blurred vision that demanded to be focused on Senior Mo, he commanded his muscles to move to grab the linen. In reality however, his aching fingers strained at the gaping air grasping at nothing…What was this pain? Sizhui never really got sick… never like this at least… 

Where was the air that always steadily filled his lungs? He can’t breathe…and he is reminded of the time when his father The Great Hanguang Jun taught him how to swim in the cold pond, his small body slipping under the water and instantly there was fear, not to last as his father gathered him into his arms warmly. Sizhui just wanted to be held… He can’t breathe and his father is not here…

Through panting gasps, Senior Mo once came into blurred sight again and Sizhui could tell that his lips were moving, but he couldn’t find himself to try and decipher the words. Had he been able to hear the cultivator running his hand through his hair, he would hear nothing but sweetness...words that would sound unbelievable coming from Mo Xuanyu lips… but not an ounce less comforting...almost as if it was coming from Sizhui’s mother’s mouth.  

The space was thick with the sound of Sizhui’s gasping breath and Senior Mo’s soothing words. Time was crawling forward, so slow that in the mess of trying to get Sizhui to breathe steadily, Senior Mo broke his focus to peak out of the window above Sizhui’s bed, hoping to see Lan Wangji making his way down the path, but the road was blank. 

This is how he will die... the pain can not be worse than this and yet all the while Sizhui can only think of one thing…

‘Mama...wait for me…’

Maybe if he closes his eyes Sizhui will see his face...the sharp cheekbones and the silk red ribbon. Just flutter them close...and before his bottom lashes could meet the interlock of his top ones...Sizhui saw bright white filling whatever was left to look at… At first he thought it was Jingyi, till another comforting cold hand held his, the calloused fingertips from years of guqin playing brushed his palm and Sizhui knew his father was there. 

By this point Sizhui was beyond terrified as he saw the man he knew to be his father lift glowing blue fingers and press them in the middle of his forehead. The contact was sharp and almost insulting, within the first few moments, nearly taking his breath away, a surge of energy filling him and draining away just as quickly. He found himself clenching his teeth and gripping the hands of both his father and senior, that only held on to him tighter. Though his eyelids were shut as his core fought to accept the energy faster than it was getting rid of it. Sizhui could only imagine his father’s heartbroken eyes, Senior Mo’s terrified expression, Jingyi tears. 

It was true, watching his only son twist in near agony, Lan Zhan found himself biting his own bottom lip as his grip on his son’s forearm only tightened. It came to a point in which Hanguang Jun found himself shutting his own eyes, just to forget for a moment who was lying in the bed, and at the same time beg his wife to keep his son with him in the living world. 

“His golden core is drained...near completely...” Father muttered quietly as he willed an overwhelming amount of spiritual energy into his son. Senior Mo’s gripped Sizhui’s forearm to pin it to the bed and slid further up the soft white sheets so he could continue running a gentle hand through Sizhui’s hair… He forced a hopeful smile onto his face as he noticed Sizhui’s eyes breaking open. “What happened when you left the Jingshi last night?” Hanguang Jun’s voice was like venom, hushed and still ever so commanding. Barely heard under the sound of Sizhui’s gasps, Senior Mo questioned whether or not to lie to the young father. 

Betray the trust of a boy wanting nothing more than to find his mother...or take confidence in knowing that telling the truth will ensure the Lan heir’s life… He did not have much time to decide, and in Sizhui’s mind, even though the pain was soul wrenching, his sweat covered brow and piercing eyes managed to focus on the elder just as Senior Mo formed his choice words…

No! Stop! Don’t take this away! I’d rather die than you take away what I know will let me see my mother…’ Sizhui’s thoughts raced, unable to actually form the words...he found that gentle hand in his hair and turned into it, feeling his eyelashes graze the skin. 

“S-Senior M-Mo...” Sizhui forced the words... only then did he realize how present the taste of blood was in his mouth. “P-Please,” he begged.

Seeing the boy’s pleading eyes made no difference... Mo Xuanyu decided.  

“He was in the Underworld Pavilion,” Senior Mo said, breaking all Sizhui’s trust. At that moment Sizhui felt like he was truly in Su She’s presence again, feeling his heart begin to break from the trust he thought he built with the Senior. ‘My mother is now truly gone from me forever...and I will never forgive you whether I am dead or alive. ’ Sizhui thought. However, as Sizhui felt the world begin to loosen, his heart still drummed to his own beat, “I should have paid more attention to him, I sent him to bed without checking his golden core.” Sizhui could feel his limbs loosening from the core draining grip, and just out of sheer weakness did his grip loosen also on his father’s hand. Lan Zhan found his father instincts reaching out to make sure there was still a pulse in his son’s wrist, while he knew that Sizhui’s body was truly not capable of gripping onto anything, he just only had the strength to take in the energy. 

“Do not blame yourself,” Father promised, pulling away his finger to help Sizhui sit up in his arms. A porcelain tea cup was pressed into his hand from Jingyi, eagerly taking the place of Lan Wangji and collecting his friends back in his arm, helping him drink the warm liquid. Senior Mo still petted his head, one hand coming to the back of his skull to just hold him there, grounding him to his bed. 

His senses were coming back to him slowly, he could feel the silk bed sheets, the feeling of the sun against the side of his head, he could even feel his socked feet still in his boots. Last night he truly did pass out after getting back to his room, he shouldn’t have been so careless in the first place.

A dark feeling pitted in Sizhui’s stomach as he remembered his failed attempt to speak the Stygian Amulet spirit. Last night he asked so many questions and yet nobody had answered him. “Father,” he sobbed still barely able to form the words without sounding like a complete frog, Senior Mo was beside him to shush him and Jingyi held his hand tighter, “I am sorry-”

“What is there to be sorry for,” Father’s voice was cold as he took a step away from the bed, “I told you not to meddle and you disobeyed me, deliberately disobeyed me!”

“I’m sorry!” Sizhui hiccuped, “punish me, please!” 

“I can punish you as many times as I can, but in the end you still had put yourself in a situation that left you wounded,” Father’s hand slammed on the wooden desk near the door, the few items on the surface clattered to the floor noisily, “don’t you think I’ve lost enough people, what would I do if I lost you?” 

Again, he apologized, shaking his head back and forth as his knees pressed tightly to his chest, “I just wanted to talk mom!” 

“And I just wanted you to be better than this.” 

Father left from the door, slamming the door so hard it rattled the entire frame of the dorm. Senior Mo collected him in his frail arms, whispering in his ear as he sobbed brokenly into the man’s shoulder. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breath. It felt like his whole body was on fire as he grasped uselessly to the lunatic’s robe. “I failed,” Sizhui whimpered, “I failed my mother, I have failed my Father, and in the end I’ve truly failed myself.” 

“No, no, Baobei,” Senior Mo was so close to his ear he could feel the hot breath of the man’s breath, “please, it’s okay, you’re safe, you're safe.”

Slowly, but surely, his breath began to even out, the tears drying to crusty streaks and Jingyi gave him another cup of water with a soft smile and gentle brush of his knee. Senior Mo’s hand was firm pressure as he rubbed his back, curling around cervical and then bumping down to his thoracic. It was easy to time his breathing with the rubbing at his back. Breath in when Senior Mo got to the top of his spine and then exhaling when his hand got to the middle of his back. 

“I have failed my father,” He finally spoke, hiding his face in his hands as he got a soft shush from Senior Mo and hum of disagreement from Jingyi. 

“I don’t think you failed him,” Senior Mo offered gently, “I think you just disappointed him.”

“Is that supposed to be any better?”

“No,” He had a soft laugh, one that just found a little bit of amusement from the situation, “I think you disappointed him, because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. Disappointment and fear are cut from the same thread, Baobei.” 

“I uh,” Jingyi broke the quietness with a soft sound, raising his hand as though he wanted to be picked on by a teacher. Senior Mo’s smile was so infectious as he grasped Sizhui around the shoulder and hugged him tightly from the side, “I’m sorry I called Senior Mo in here, usually when you get violent in your sleep I just try to hold you down, but you were bleeding and he was near-”

“It’s okay Jingyi,” Sizhui held out his hand and the smaller took it eagerly, basking in the warmth of the stubbier digits that intertwined with his, “I would have done the same thing if it were you. I made you worry.” 

A laugh from Senior Mo was like a strike of lightning, the young man giving him a blinding look, “what?!” he gaped desperately, “you apologize to Jingyi for making him worry, but you get mad at your own father for doing the same! You said your mother is dead, right?” 

“Right,” Sizhui muttered quietly.

“Well his grieving is more profound, yes? To have to live everyday, knowing that the image of your mother is going to disappear each day! To know that the scent of their hair will disappear from his pillow, to forget the way their eyes light up, to watch as her image appears in places of the house. Imagine if you, his only son left were to die,” Senior Mo closed his eyes, his free hand that wasn’t holding Sizhui grasped tightly at the place where his heart was, “I have lost many people Sizhui, more people than you could think someone as young as me could loose, so please for the sake of your father and for mine, do not meddle.” 

The words hung in the air, thick enough for a sword to chop through. Sizhui could feel his tears welling up as Jingyi squeezed his fingers tightly, “how can I promise something I will most definitely break in the future.”

“Breaking Gusu rules so easily?” The senior teased gently, taking the fat on Sizhui’s cheek and squeezed it like he was a tiny baby, “just give us the benefit of the doubt so at your funeral we can shake our fists and tell the world how good you were.” 

A laugh broke through the depressing air, “I promise for the sake of my eulogy.”

“Thank you,” Senior Mo breathed, “and tell your father that as well, but with that same rebellious sparkle in your eye, so he knows you mean well.” 

The day went on after that, Senior Mo being a gentle reassurance as he pushed Sizhui to get out of bed and to eat a little bit. They ate outside the mess hall, mopping up bread in the salted broth and sharing stories of when they were young. Sizhui loved to hear Jingyi talk about his childhood, to listen to the boy speak as if he owned the world and ruled it just the same. The way he climbed trees to just fall from it’s branches, or wade in ponds to catch fishes. Most of Sizhui’s childhood was locked away in the infirmary with severe colds and helping his Father learn how to walk again. 

Senior Mo was quiet, he didn’t talk a lot about his childhood, but the mirth he held in his voice was just a hint of charisma. It made Sizhui want to open him like a book and to read every page. To underline every issue and pretend like the man wasn’t hiding his true identity. He knew there was something different about the man, from the way he ducked away from older disciples or the way his hands would trace the walls of pavilions like he had been there before. Nothing about the once claimed lunatic made any sense, but Sizhui would be damned if he was going to force it out of the man. 

He was forever indebted to the man, the one who saved them from truly being hurt during the attack of the Stygian spirit and for not treating his Father like something that was broken. Speaking of his Father, everytime he thought about an apology, it didn’t feel enough. His actions were too heavy, one that Father had stated that punishment wasn’t going to do any good. He disappointed his father, he had recklessly ignored the warning and in the end he had gotten so drained he could have gone into a qi deviation. 

As they wandered around the Cloud Recess, Sizhui had made his apology in his head. When they had arrived at the Underworld Pavilion the apology completely drained from his brain, turning into a useless blade of grass that was carried away in a summer’s breeze. The doors creaked open to reveal Father who was sitting at a far table, his own guqin out. He wasn’t playing, but the strings were still thrumming with the energy. The bell that had once held the sword was lifted high enough that the sword was on display, but close enough that if it acted up Father could cover it up quickly. All three of them bowed to his Father who hummed in their greetings. Senior Mo left their side for the first time in the day to sit back down at the table. 

Sizhui was getting some nasty deja vu from seeing Senior Mo in the same position as he was in the night. “So…” Jingyi circled around the platform of the bell, trying to act like a tiger ready to jump on its prey, but when a spark of energy flicked from the sword it made him jump back, “Hanguang-jun, what are we going to do with this sword!” 

“Find the root of the cause,” Father said simply, standing from his kneeling position to cross the room. He grabbed the small boy by his shoulder and steered him away from the sword to beside Sizhui. He shrank in the gaze of his Father who passed over him. 

“Exactly!” Senior Mo peered around Father’s broad shoulders, a cat-like grin on his lips, “We’ll unbury the roots to find the true stem, the stem being the owner of the sword! Me and your great Hanguang-Jun have a good lead on who might be the owner!” 

Sizhui’s brain flashed to the image of the man in the lotus field, a deep stone settling in his stomach, “easy for you to say,” Jingyi snapped beside him, “where in the world are you going to find the owner! They could be halfway across the country at this very moment!” 

“North west,” Father cut through, turning towards the bell. 

“North west?” Sizhui asked hesitantly, cocking his head at the bell like his father was getting different answers than he was, “why would the owner be in that direction?” 

Senior Mo flashed around the bell, his hands fisted behind his back as he clumsy began walking around the bell, as if he was excited by the thought of the resentful energy zapping him, “he already showed us the direction!” he smirked.

“Directions?” Jingyi spoke the words that Sizhui was thinking, “who? Who showed us the directions?” his eyes darted the tallest Lan in the room, “Hanguang-Jun never showed us anything!” 

“Ayiah!” The lunatic cried, slapping a hand on his face, “no! Not him!” he pointed venomously at Hanguang-Jun, “him!” he pointed to the sword right in front of him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Jingyi stepped away from Hanguang-Jun’s narrowed gaze and followed Senior Mo towards the sword. Like one would do when picking up a snotty handkerchief, Jingyi held the blade of the sword between his thumb and forefinger, leading it in a different direction to watch as it moved back to it’s direction of north west. The boy whistled low in the back of his throat, “well I’ll be damned.” 

Senior Mo grinned, humming as he grasped Jingyi’s shoulders from behind, “either it’s pointing to the body or the person who conducted the grievances,” he hissed excitedly as the blade pointed directly into Jingy’s stomach. The disciple squeaked, throwing Senior Mo off his shoulders and went back to where Sizhui was standing to hide behind the taller boy. 

Father sent him another pointed look, before collecting the guqin on the table, “Sizhui, get the wounded settled before you go out and find Jin Ling.” 

“Understood,” he said quickly, straightening his back before a dark feeling crept through his bones, “Father? Are you going out right now?” 

All he got back was a nod as he flashed a hand over the guqin so it would go back into his bag, “what?!” Senior Mo cried, scrambling over to grasp at Father’s sleeve, “Good! That’s great actually! Finally I can leave the confinements of the Recess.” 

The look on Father’s face was definitely not pleased as he moved out of the way so Senior Mo would stumble around. Jingyi laughed with a loud bark, before hiding it behind his hand like he had gotten caught. Sizhui could feel his grievances and regret swarming his soul as he stepped forward and towards his father. Disciples once said to him that his Father was scary when he was mad and by Gods he couldn’t agree so much with them. “Father, I want to apologize again so we can part on better terms.”

“You are far from apologizing at this point, Sizhui,” Father’s voice was cold as he turned around. He crouched down so they were at height, one hand coming up to cup the side of Sizhui’s cheek, “by this point it doesn’t mean anything, so do something better, show me you’re truly sorry.” 

Actions. Yes. Father always took actions better than words. It was simply his personality, so Sizhui straightened up even more and held his nose into the sky, “yes Father, I won’t let you down. I’ll find Jin Ling and bring him back to Sect Leader Jiang.” 

“Good boy,” Senior Mo's voice was like warm honey as he joined Father to pat him on the head, “don’t dawdle, leave before us!” 

A new set of air was in Sizhui’s air as he looked at the Stygian Sword. He thought about Senior’s Mo’s earlier, to give the benefit of the doubt and to show Father he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He would find Mother, spirit or person and bring him back to the Cloud Recess as well as Jin Ling. “Understood,” he smiled, pulling Jingyi to follow him towards the infirmary pavilion. 

 ___❀___

Father and Senior Mo left at an alarmingly fast pace, Sizhui could only wish the other’s well, pressing a talisman of protection in the Senior’s palm and bowing as low as he could to his Father. He got cold eyes, but one that sparkled with trust. When they disappeared down the many steps down the mountain, Sizhui stepped away and hurried inside the Recess. 

Like his Father had requested, Sizhui noted down all the wounded from the accident of trying to soothe the sword yesterday. He grasped at the scroll that he got from one of the nurses and began counting everyone who was currently rolling in pain. It wasn’t till he got to a small mirror at the end of the hallway that he saw himself in the mirror. As Jingyi would put it, he looked like shit.

He set down the scroll with a frown, moving his hands to his Mother’s ribbon in his hair. Sizhui pulled the fabric out, staring at it with blank eyes, before he collected his thick hair back to the top of his head and tied the ribbon back where it was meant to be. Father had said it was Mother’s favorite color and it was his ribbon, it meant no less than wearing the hair piece that was supposed to be a courting gift that he normally wore. Taking two separate strands of hair, he pulled them to tighten the grip on the ribbon and threw the thick hair over his shoulder. It was only then when he looked back in the mirror that he truly felt like himself. 

Picking up the scroll he went right back to work, until he got to an older disciple’s bed. The young man was currently leaning over the bed to puke a bloody mess into a small pan. The contents splashed up at him, spraying flicks of blood vomit that dripped down his face. Sizhui’s bleeding heart was already moving as he leaned to the man’s side and grasping at bed sheets he patted the specks away. 

The man looked at him and Sizhui was ready for the never ending thank yous, but what he got was a push so hard he was sent smashing into the bed opposite of the disciple. “Get away from me!” He screamed, teeth red with coppery blood, “you sick kid, who do you think you are! You're an imposter hiding behind one sick son of a bitch.” 

“I’m sorry?” Sizhui whimpered, feeling his arm wobble when he put weight on it. He was still weak from this morning, so instead of standing up he just fell backwards. “I can call a nurse, please don’t stress your wounds,” he tried with a shaky voice. 

“Stress my wounds?” the man repeated, before letting out a bark of laughter, “stress the wounds that you made. You’re his bastard son, you must know everything about his amulet.” With a shaky walk the man began to limp across the wound. Sizhui began crawling on the floor, trying his best to out run the man, but a heavy foot was stomped on his back and the ponytail he had just fixed was grabbed. 

Sizhui let out a yell, one from pain and also to alert anyone as his back was arched painfully and then he was sent slamming into the ground. The pain was blissfully easy as his head was smashed into the smooth wood of the Pavilion. He blanked, his head just completely fluttering away until the next force brought him right back to where he started. From the hold on the back of his skull, his back was bowed as the man brought them cheek to cheek. Sizhui could feel a steady bead of blood drip from his nose as his head was pounding with pain. “Is it fun to watch the place that nurtured you and kept you safe destroyed with the sick satisfaction of your family, you stupid… stupid boy.” 

And with another round, Sizhui’s head was brought back to kiss the floor with as much force as the man could send through his weak arms. It was only then that he cried out through bright tears and his nose was probably facing a different direction from the way he could hear an audible crack and the blossoming of pain. It was a white hot kind of pain, one that licked up his spine. 

He wasn’t sent back for a fourth time on the floor, the grip on the back of his ponytail was freed and his head fell limply back to the ground for an involuntary snap. Pulling himself on his elbows he blinked in hazy confusion he watched as two other disciples had pulled the man away to restrain him and Jingyi was at his side pulling him up. “What are you doing!” He heard the taller disciple that had his arms wrapped around the crazy man’s body in a hug to restrain his arms to his side ask, “do you want to piss off the boy so he can start calling corpses just like his Mother?”

“I-” He gaped, but Jingyi just pulled him away and out into the hallway. Back to looking in the mirror, his once fixed ponytail was droopy and there was a growing red bruise in the middle of his forehead as well as his nose was tilted slightly to the left. Sizhui brought up his hand to touch the sharp bone on the side of his nose, but his vision swam as he fell towards the ground, gripping at the table that held the mirror. Jingyi grasped him from under his armpits and began pulling him out of the Pavilion. The cold air bit at his cheeks and he stumbled again, grasping at Jingyi’s wool robe as he almost brought the smaller down with him. They made it only a few feet, with Sizhui trying to catch his harsh breathing when they were stopped by a group of boys who were sitting on the steps of a pavilion a couple steps from the infirmary, almost like they were waiting for him to leave. 

The middle boy stood up from the steps with a nasty grin on his face, “get that scum out of here!” Sizhui then recognized the boy with his swimming vision that he was from his class division, the dark haired disciple pulled Sizhui out of Jingyi’s arms and threw him to the ground. His bones in his body seemed to rattle around like a sack of potatoes as he sat in a heap. “Jingyi, come on, you can stop pretending to be that loser's friend. You heard what Senior Mo said, that amulet has his name written all over it.” 

A heavy kick was sent to Sizhui’s gut as he let out a gasp. There was another boy, one that was hovering towards the door of the pavilion with a cat-like grin carved into his cheeks, “we know your little tricks, demonic baby,” the boy sang in a condescending tone, “you don’t have Hanguang-Jun to protect you anymore. Who even thought of making you an heir to Gusu Lan. You’re nothing but corrupt blood. Your mother probably forced himself on our great and righteous Senior.” 

“Knock it off!” Jingyi snapped, powering through the boys who stood in front of him to grab at his friend. All Sizhui could think was this was finally the end. The fire that was burning in the disciples had finally gotten it’s fuel. The world he created was now engulfed with the blue flames that licked up his wounds, Jingyi’s face was contorted in fear as he ran into their dorm and came back with two hooded robes and a satchel bag, “we need to get the hell out of here and fast. The wounded have been settled, but now they are going to kill you. Where are we headed towards?” 

“North west,” Sizhui croaked, throwing the cloak around his body and putting the hood on. 

“North west?” Jingyi repeated, “isn’t that where the Sword Ghost is pointing to?” 

“Yes,” he gritted as they stumbled through the gates of the Recess. Jingyi grasped the jade token on his robe and threw it in the nearest river as well as discarding his Lan recognizable Hanfu. He made quick work to remove Sizhui’s own robe and bundled the robes into a hole. The boys were now left with just simple light blue under robes that couldn’t be distinguished from any of the sects, cutting them off from any tie to Gusu. Sizhui shook the dizziness from his head as he went towards an unmarked path, “we will follow them, maybe this will be a good opportunity to find a trace of my mother. You heard Senior Mo, they know who the culprit of the sword is!” 

“So let me get this straight,” Jingyi’s voice was on the edge of hysterics as power walked after Sizhui down the gravel path. In all honesty, he didn’t even want his friend to repeat back the crazy idea. “We’re going to follow Hanguang-Jun, your very mad father, and Senior Mo, crazy Senior Mo, and secretly… I stress secretly, try to work on their case, behind their back?!” 

“I don’t know why you have to repeat it back to me,” Sizhui hissed, hiking up the small satchel bag higher up on his shoulder. His hand was shaking as he gingerly touched his right nostril, trying to swipe the drying blood that had pooled in his cupid’s bow.

Jingyi rushed forward, grasping him by the shoulders to force them face to face, “because you aren’t even listening to yourself talk!” he cried, shaking Sizhui back and forth to somehow knock that peanut sized brain into thinking, “why can’t we just find Jin Ling and try to go back home. Why does this even concern us!”

“It doesn’t concern you,” He snapped back, straightening his back a little bit, “it concerns me, we are talking about my mom here, you’re the one who packed these bags and came with me! Well the jig is over, go get your Lan robes and go back inside the Cloud Recess, I can do this by myself!”

“By yourself ‽ ” Jingyi balked. 

Sizhui tried to turn towards the gravel path again, but his friend just turned him back around to look at each other, “I don’t need you to follow me,” he stressed with a sharp whistle between his teeth, “you can join all those disciples in the Cloud Recess and say, shit, I don’t know, say I put you under some ‘demonic spell’ and we were never really friends! You can clear your name easily!” 

“Why in the world would I say that?” Sizhui turned away again and Jingyi grasped him again. He thought of when Su She had grasped him tightly around the shoulders, had whispered in his ear about how he was a mistake. He threw his shoulders back and flailed until he was finally free. He tried to breath through his nose, but found it was blocked with blood so instead he just blew harshly. The blood splattered down his face, curling in the corner of his lips and dripping down his chin.

“Let me go.” He demanded, using the sleeve of the blue under robe to wipe away the blood. It wasn’t that he was being held, but more as a demand to send the boy away. 

“No! I won’t!” Jingyi snarled, showing his teeth off like a cornered animal as he reached out his hands to grab at Sizhui.

The boys fumbled around, Sizhui grasping at Jingyi’s elbow and with the little strength he had cultivated since the attack in the infirmary, he sent the smaller boy flying to the floor. The leaves that were sitting casually on the ground were launched into the air from the body. Jingyi let out a loud groan as he rolled over onto his stomach, trying to catch his breath as he seized on the ground from all the air being ripped from his lungs from landing on his back. 

They locked eyes, one as gold as the finest of Jin treasures and the other a deep brown like looming trees in a forest. Sizhui took a step and found his ankle grabbed. “Please,” he whispered, not even looking back at the other, “please just let me go Jingyi. I have to do this.”

“I’m not letting you leave,” Jingyi hissed through the tight feeling in his chest and palpating heart that felt like it was ready to climb his throat and go on its own vacation, “I let you go and I’ll lose my best friend. I thought we promised we would look out for each other!” 

“And I’m looking out for you!” Sizhui ripped his ankle from the loose grip around his ankle, “I don’t leave and people are going to say you're just as bad as I am.” 

“There is nothing bad about you!” Jingyi pleaded, fiery tears began streaking his face as he grasped at the ground to pull himself halfway up, “there has never been anything bad about you, it was the prejudices created by people that are scared! You aren’t your mom,” Sizhui tsked, crossing his arms tightly to his chest, but didn’t throw Jingyi off who grasped at the hemmed edge of his hanfu, “and you aren’t your dad either! Sizhui, you are your own person!” 

“And what you're saying is that you don’t care about becoming a criminal to your own sect. Without my father around you’ve seen how people started to treat me, calling me scum of the earth. I’ve spent my whole damn life listening to just Jin Ling tell me this utter bullshit, but please I won’t live if you start too. So just turn around,” The two fought one last time, Sizhui feeling like a much stronger man as he pulled Jingyi’s hand from the bottom of his robe and took two steps backwards. “Go to my mother’s grave, take the tablet and hide it so nobody defaces it.”

“Not without you,” Jingyi demanded, “for what we loved and what we lost, Sizhui, you are the biggest baby on the goddamn earth if you think you can carry the burden of people you’ve never met before. So let someone just hold you up, let me come with you.”

"Why is it whenever I am hated by the entire cultivation world you are the one who won’t do me the pleasure of protecting yourself. Why are you the person who has to stick out their neck, the one person who I would finally break if they disappear from my life. Please, I beg one last time, Jingyi, let me go.” 

The world suddenly became so quiet, the branches of trees stopped their rattling and the pittering of rain that was slowly making its way from the clouds seemed to go hush with the words. Jingyi climbed up from the wet ground, hands now as dark as his eyes as he wiped them against his solid blue robes. Sizhui bit his tongue from reciting the rules that came barreling as his face was grasped, they just stood there, nobody making a move. Jingyi’s hands were soft, grasping around his cheeks and thumbs resting at the tragus of his ear. His eyes were moving at a rapid pace, not resting on any piece and making Sizhui feel just as vulnerable as he felt.

However, all Sizhui could think about was how beautiful Jingyi looked. His defiant attitude and wicked smirk as he fussed over a strand of hair that was sticking from Sizhui’s attacked ponytail and with warm eyes he searched the twinkle of his eyes, “for someone with such beautiful eyes, they always look so lonely,” he whispered, his wet hand stroking the apple of Sizhui’s hot cheek, “I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever. I love you,” he confessed, quickly placing his hand on Sizhui’s opening lips so he couldn’t speak, “I will love you when your like this, I’ll love you when you fight for the injustice of your own birth, I will love you even when you throw me to ground and knock all the air out of my lungs.” 

That got a laugh, Jingyi’s eyes crinkled up as he tilted his head. Slowly he drifted his hand from Sizhui’s mouth to run a finger down the apex and through the hollow of his cheek. A slightly defiant finger pressing to the silk fabric of his headband, fixing it straight against the landscape of his forehead. He always thought about touching the other’s skin, to trace every freckle on his face and to feel the slight bit of peach fuzz, “I am a fire,” Sizhui’s words were quiet, yet demanded all attention as his whole palm engulfed Jingyi’s wandering finger, “I don’t want to burn you.” 

“To die with you would be my most favorite of adventures.” 

And with the words he couldn’t really put to the cold morning breeze, Jingyi surged forward and captured the older’s chapped lips. It was like a dam breaking, for every emotion he had buried and uncovered. His eyes burned with tears, but the fire between them was kindling with sparks of desire. They bumped noses and with a giggle of laughter they tilted heads different directions to only meet at the same destination. Sizhui’s lips were warm, his teeth hard like jade, and tongue passionate as they explored each other’s mouths. “Please,” Jingyi spoke on the other’s lips, “let me come and show you that I don’t care about this whole ‘family blood business’. Let me show you that the only thing I care about is being your partner in crime.” 

“How can I say no?” Sizhui whimpered, throwing his satchel on the ground to hug Jingyi close to his body. The rain finally came, the heavy drops felt like tear drops as they pattered on their robes, but Jingyi couldn’t care less. The world could open up beneath him and he wouldn’t have cared less, because at that moment he could feel Sizhui’s hands grabbing purchase on his back and feel the boy’s cold nose against his neck. He wouldn’t change a thing. 

There had to be a book written, one about their destinies. It would be written with tight, tiny characters and he could see the authors were scrambling around, because they were going off book. Creating their own destiny, together as two people who truly cared about each other. Jingyi thought that if Wei Ying was alive, he’d probably smile down on them and wish them good luck. Sizhui, his good son who had done nothing, but follow the rules, was finally getting his character arc, and all Jingyi was glad about was he would be the one to witness it. 

“Come on,” Sizhui's voice was low as he stepped away from the burning touch to pull on the hood of his robe, “it’s time to create history.” 

And all Jingyi could utter was, “mark your words.

Chapter Text

My Pride and My Prejudice

Chapter 4 - Cynicism

___❀___

“Alright, I’ll count down for you. Are you ready?” 

“ No …” 

“Great. Okay! One… two…” 

Jingyi grasped the thin cartilage of Sizhui’s broken nose and gave a hearty push, listening to the sound of the tiny bone snap back in place. Sizhui cried out from the sudden burst of pain, scrambling backwards on the floor as he pressed the cloth back to his nostrils that began leaking with more blood. 

The two boys have been on their adventure for a few days now, quietly trailing the path of their seniors while also battling the wounds they suffered before leaving. Sizhui’s face had swollen up like a balloon, his under eyes were black with bruises and his nose gushed blood under no circumstances. They consulted a healer and all they gave the boys was a means of putting the bone back into place and stuff for the swelling. Jingyi wasn’t really happy about the whole ordeal, having to watch the progression of his best friend and now lover’s face turn all shades of red and purple. 

“Is it in place? Is it bleeding okay?” 

“What even kind of question is that?” Jingyi huffed, he grasped Sizhui by the chin and wrestled the handkerchief out of his hand until he could get a good look at the curve of the Lan nose. In all honesty, he was pretty glad that he didn’t have a nose like that, but at least it wasn’t as bad as Jin Ling’s Jiang nose. Now that feature was one that cultivators couldn’t miss. With hoods on their head they could smoothly blend into the crowds, carefully trying not to be seen. 

Somehow the amulet’s resurface had been spread everywhere, nobody was really sure who was the ground zero of the information, but it put a bright red bullseye on Sizhui’s back. At the first days of their adventure, they were able to walk populated paths with only a few scared looks and the occasional spit in their direction, but now they had to slide through allies and sleep in backwater inns to not throw suspicion their way. Even at the moment they were currently hauled up in a filthy, old inn off the path of an abandoned road. Jingyi wasn’t sure how they even found such a remote place, but it became apparent nobody could find the place either, since all the surfaces of the room were covered in a thick sheen of dust from it’s disuse. 

Lan Wangji was on top of everything, or so the man said. Earlier in the night he had sent Sizhui a butterfly to tell them he was currently in Qinghe and they had spotted both Jin Ling and Jiang Waynin. Again, Jin Ling had slipped from them, helping Senior Mo out of Jiang Waynin’s grasp before bolting. Father had also told them that Jin Ling had a type of curse on him that infected his leg, but it was transferred to Senior Mo for some stupid reason they weren’t sure of. Must be the complex that the Senior had about helping people, because Sizhui could see that happening. 

Now that the pain had started to wear off, only sitting in a place that felt like a constant, powerful sneeze ready to happen that would never come, Sizhui and Jingyi were just staring at each other. The spark they shared at the path outside of the Cloud Recess was still storming away, but Sizhui was a little hesitant on acting on it. As a kid, he had learned to never love someone, because in the end the only thing that came out of it would be a broken heart. Why was fate so cruel that they’d allow that those you love will either die or reject you in the end. 

A loud thump was heard outside the room, Sizhui ripping his gaze from Jingyi to stare at the door with wide eyes. His gut dropped with every thump that played outside the doors. “Did they find us?” he whispered shakily, hand already grasping his sword that was firmly attached to his hip. 

“Shush,” Jingyi hissed, snapping his fingers so all the candles lit in the room flickered out. Now plunged in the dark, Sizhui’s feet sounded so loud as he moved to the wall beside the door. Jingyi followed him, again counting down on his fingers so Sizhui could brace himself, when the smaller man got to one diget he kicked the door open. Sword unsheathed, it danced off all the candles in the hallway as he saw the corpse of a dead animal. “Another cat?” Jingyi spoke what Sizhui was thinking as he bent down to touch the cold body of the animal. 

This wasn’t the first time that they had found the corpse of a cat outside of their inn. The first time they found it they had thought it was just some kind of hate crime to Sizhui. However, this was about the fifth time this had happened and Sizhui couldn’t stand and call it an accident. It was too… precise, calculating even to know every inn the two boys had housed themselves in. “We need to leave,” Jingyi muttered, sheathing his sword on his hip as he moved into the room, “they found us again.” 

Sizhui grasped the hood of the cloak he hadn’t even had the time to take off. He pulled it over his head, feeling the familiar weight that it draped over the top of his ponytail and hid his bruised face. Jingyi put the satchel around his shoulder, but when he took two steps forward he suddenly whipped back and covered his mouth. Sizhui gasped at the ascending steps climbing the inn as he plastered his body against the same wall beside the door. With one hand he pressed it to his nose and mouth to hopefully quiet down the rapid pace of breathing. 

Jingyi crouched low to the ground, not to unsheath his sword, but to brandish a tiny blade from his shoe. Sizhui didn’t even know the other had such a blade, but the way he flipped it in the air and caught it at the hilt, he moved with grace of someone who had been taught by a master. The feet stopped at the top of the steps, Jingyi stepped out from the door and Sizhui could hear the fumbling of two bodies. They fought loudly, grunts here and there until one heavy thump of someone finally being pinned to the floor. 

It was silent, Sizhui could feel his face heating up at the thought of Jingyi losing the fight. If a cultivator would identify Jingyi then it was over for the two juniors. 

“Jin Ling?!” He heard Jingyi’s voice bellow around the walls. Sizhui thumped his head to the back of the wall in relief, feeling his knees give out and he slowly gilded down the wall to sit on the floor. “What in the world are you doing here?” he heard Jingyi ask.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Jin Ling’s voice was strained as the two boys walked into the room. They stepped around the dead cat, Jingyi rushing to Sizhui’s side to rub his shoulders, “Sizhui?” Jin Ling actually sounded surprised to see the other. He hadn’t seen the two disciples since the time they shared at the Jiang camp, before he had his psychotic break. Jingyi looked thin, but that was usual. The boy always has been wirey, but he was still good looking with a thin nose and a defined jawline. His cousin on the other hand, when he lifted down the hood of his cloak the bruising on his face was defined. He had a large, circular bruise that meshed into his forehead and hairline with dark circles that curled around his under eyes and nose swollen. 

“W-What?” he was at a loss for words, hand tightening on Suihua’s hilt, “what in the world happened to you Sizhui?” 

Rushing over, he grasped at Jingyi’s shoulder to pull him away, but was met with a violent push  that sent him stumbling a few paces back. “Jingyi,” Sizhui’s voice was barely above a whisper as he soothed a hand over the boy’s shoulder and down his arm until they were hand and hand, “it’s okay, I’m just really on edge.” 

“You have every right to be on edge,” Jingyi bit back, squeezing their hands together, “let’s just sit down, okay?” he sounded tired. Jin Ling stayed on the side of the room, skirting around the edges as Jingyi helped Sizhui up on his legs and brought him to the daybed. Sizhui brought a handkerchief to his nose and wiped away a steady line of blood coming from his cupid's bow, but Jin Ling could tell this wasn’t the first time since the cloth was covered in crimson stains. 

He wanted to do something, but he found himself rooted to the spot. It was as if he could feel every wall he put up to keep himself from his cousin was starting to come down. Sure he called Sizhui names, kicked up enough fuss, but he was now staring at the beaten bruised face of someone who usually wasn’t this broken. “I just saw your dad,” Jin Ling told him, rooting around on the back wall of the inn to find a couple of tea cups and placed them near the steaming kettle, “does he know about this? Who even did this to you.”

“Lan disciples,” Sizhui gritted, sniffling back blood that was trying to come out, “after my father left they turned on me. They think I’m behind the amulet energy.” 

“The amulet,” Jin Ling blanched, quickly pouring the tea into the cups. He wasn’t sure what flavor it was, but it was enough to keep Sizhui warm. Handing off the cup, he saw Sizhui’s hands were shaking. “Didn’t your uncle say anything? Grand Master Qiren?” 

“Grand Master Qiren was hurt,” Jingyi muttered, “we tried to summon the spirit, it got aggressive and it attacked him and sent him into a coma. Master Qiren isn’t really young and spry, Jin Ling.” 

Sizhui’s hands clenched around the cup, feeling the hot warmth spread through his palms and leave a stinging feeling in their wake, “Bobo is at the Carp Tower with your uncle, I’m sure nobody has even tried to contact him. Gusu Lan has chased every leader out of their sect.” 

“Yeah and they beat the shit out of you,” Jin Ling flared up, face red as he slammed Suihua on the table, “what gives them the right-”

“You aren’t really one to be speaking about treatment,” Jingyi spoke up, standing up from the daybed to block Sizhui from Jin Ling’s view, “we were just leaving anyways.” 

“How many inns have you left in the middle of the night?” Jin Ling asked, searching the younger’s face to see his whole body seemed to show how tired he was. He could see the way Jingyi was putting on a brave face so Sizhui wouldn’t worry. “I’m not trying to start anything, I just , every inn I've been staying at always has had a dead cat outside my door and it surprised me to see you guys were getting the same thing?” 

“You’ve been having the cat problem too?” Jingyi let out a deep sigh and cradled his face in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, rubbing harshly at his eyes until he sat up, “man, I just thought it was a hate crime. We are legit on the run.” 

Sizhui put his hand over Jingyi’s, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb, “it’s been really hard,” he confessed, “I’m still trying to process that I was almost killed by a man twice my father’s age.” 

“Yeah, I’d be shaken up too,” Jin Ling smiled and turned to Jingyi to get maybe a smirk, but the younger just deflated. “Hey, dude, you need some rest.” Jingyi looked like he was ready to retaliate, but his eyes just slowly closed as he leaned back on the day bed. Sizhui gave Jin Ling a strained smile, rubbing the boy’s arm as he finally passed out. “I’m sorry,” he offered to nobody in particular. 

“Sorry?” Sizhui repeated back, pulling Jingyi so he was laying flat on the bed, “I don’t know why you are apologizing?” 

Jin Ling hissed quietly, bringing an awkward hand up to rub at his neck, “I don’t know, for everything? I’ve kinda been on this journey of self discovery.” He got another weird look as Sizhui moved to sit down at the table and refilled his tea cup. They didn’t speak, Jin Ling was too floored to stare at the wounds on his cousin’s face.

He got noticed, Sizhui giving him a soft smile as he placed the back of his hand on the side of his bruised cheek, “they aren’t very lovely, huh?” he shook his head and relaxed his expression, “Jingyi says I look tough with all these bruises…” 

“What about your core?” Jin Ling asked, sitting forward at the table to lean into his cousin’s space. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on the side of his face and then so gently moved the boy’s jaw to see all the different cuts and bruises, “why haven’t you healed up yet?” 

“I’ve been running low,” Sizhui huffed, but didn’t pull away from the touch, “since I was attacked I really haven’t gotten a break. If I’m not trying to be seen by cultivators currently seeking me out, I’m trying to just stay alive.” 

“You could have gone to Carp Tower,” he stressed, only at this time did Sizhui pull away and dabbed at his nose again. “Your Uncle, Lan Xichen, is there, as well as my Uncle Guangyao is there. Your Bobo will protect you and I haven’t known a time that my Uncle Guangyao has not trusted your word!” 

The look on his face told Jin Ling that Sizhui knew exactly that, but he just scrunched his nose in discomfort before gasping in pain from doing the actions, “I can’t, not while the amulet is still out there,” he paused, golden irises glaring into Jin Ling soul, “my mother is out there and my father is currently hunting him down.” 

“Hunting?” Jin Ling gaped. 

Sizhui stood up, his body language told Jin Ling enough that he was angry. He’d seen his uncle pace like that for hours with no destination in sight. The floors creaked gently as Sizhui glided across them with elegancy, to open up the window of the inn. He stuck a hand outside, letting the rain spit into his palm. The water was near ice cold and reminded him of his Bobo. When Sizhui was little, Xichen would hold him safe underneath the awning of the Jingshi...watching the rain with fascination, hoping that the sound of the water hitting the wooden roof would drown out the sound of Lan Wangji’s agony from having his whip scars tended to. “I don’t know how to explain this to you,” Sizhui’s voice was soft as he clenched his wet palm into a fist, at the same time closing his eyes and drowning out the echoes of his father’s pain. “I need to make things right, it’s not in my blood to just sit around and wait this whole thing out.” he motioned towards the whole room, Jin Ling deduced he must of meant the world, “I hope you can understand that if I have a chance-- even if it’s the smallest of a chance …. Of bringing back my mother I will take it.... I thought you could be the only person to share the same feelings.” 

“It’s not about sharing the same feeling, Sizhui,” he sighed, resting his forehead in his hands, “because if I can bring back my mom and dad, trust me, I would , but like this? Going against your father’s wishes and the only lead we got here is this spiritual sword. It sounds like you are willing to be a sacrificial lamb waiting for his moment to be slaughtered!”

“I am not. I am trying my best to make sure that everyone is taken care of!” 

“...and you're willing to go against everything you and I were both raised to become! Sounds like nothing more than the behavior of a rebellious bastard. ” 

Sizhui didn’t say anything, Jin Ling was awaiting for cruel words in response, something he could use as proof that Sizhui was just like his mom, but instead the boy just dropped his head and bit at his tongue. Staring down at the table, he noticed Sizhui was softly tracing the knots in the wood with his finger, his mind distant and far away... throughout his childhood, even before Wei Wuxian was revealed to be his mother, that word bastard (love-child, spurious offspring, bad blood) he had heard everything before. 

He could vividly remember, one night when he was seven years old, having dinner with his Father in the Jingshi. His mixed vegetables were slightly spicier than usual, he tended to like them that way…  but he knew tonight that it was different. Maybe it was because he was anxious, he had heard a rather weird word directed at him when he was walking back from his uncle’s house. Sizhui had been strolling along focusing on counting how many steps it took to get from his bobo’s house to his father’s. He didn't even notice when an older disciple had stuck out their foot by “accident” until he fell hard to the gravled path, the small pebbles making a home in his palms. One of the boys had cackled loudly seeming to gather the attention of more seniors, “Look! It’s the bastard! Are you going to cry?” 

“No…?” Sizhui responded plainly, his striking wide eyes that were gifts from his mother gleamed with naivety. He pushed himself up by his hands and feeling the pebbles dig round crescents in his palms, “it was an accident! Don’t worry!” Even as a child, he would be laughed at and then subsequently remarked as blissfully innocent in the next moment. However Sizhui was not inept, he could feel something different in his senior brother’s words. Not being able to comprehend that emotion, made the word stick to his mind like overcooked rice. 

He had asked Shugong during their private lessons about the word’s origin... only to receive a strict ‘Don’t ever say that word again, ask your father!’ Now, he was truly starting to doubt himself, was it a bad word…? Maybe like the one Bobo had said when he crushed his fingers in the library pavilion door.... What was this word?!

“Baba…?” Sizhui’s quiet voice echoed over the air sweetly that night, unaware that he should be preparing for a response not unlike Armageddon. He set his bowl politely on the table and rested the chopsticks on top of the lid, “what does bastard mean?” 

The chopsticks in Father’s hands clattered to the table. The man’s usually blank face was obstructed by his mouth agape and eyes as big as the bowl of vegetables in front of him, “Sizhui...Did someone call you that?” he asked instead of giving the definition. 

“A boy had accidentally tripped me when I was leaving Bobo’s home and he called me that,” Sizhui had muttered quietly, messing with the tassel attached to the belt of his robe, “I just wanted to know what it means, I never heard of a nickname like that…?” 

“It is not a nickname, A-Yuan,” Father’s voice was shaking, he could see out of the corner of his eye that his hand was tightly clenched in a fist, “It was an insult, they were making fun of your lineage.” 

“An insult…” he whispered. Father had continued to pester him that night on who had called him that word, but Sizhui had kept himself tight-lipped. Later on he went to his Bobo and asked him about different insults, much to the older man’s reluctance, he had given Sizhui a short list. 

When Xichen was finished, Sizhui found himself curling his fingers tightly around his teacup. All of the nicknames he had been so glad to have, finally feeling like a part of his classmates, were instead subtle jabs to his lack of a Mother. Being so young, in that moment he was nothing but resentful of the state his Mother left, but as he grew he knew it wasn’t actually his fault. 

During his stay in Cloud Recess, what Sizhui had learned from Jin Ling and what built their first try at a friendship was that they were both bullied for their lineage. Sure, Jin Ling came from a clean line, his parents both significant people of gentry families... Sizhui of course only had his Father, but the Jin disciples jabbed at Jin Ling’s bad luck for losing both parents. 

Instead of using the word bastard as an insult towards Jin Ling’s parents, who were married when he was born, they used it as an insult of his character . Sizhui wasn’t going to sit around and not say that Jin Ling didn’t have his moments of unpleasantries, but it never occurred to him that people were so keen to pick out the bad in the most broken type of people. 

In the current time, Sizhui had lifted his head slowly, like if he moved too quickly Jin Ling was going to dart out of the room again. “ Rebellious bastard? ” he repeated slowly, letting every syllable pass his lips with confidence, “I mean… you're not wrong-- I am a bastard child, everyone who has called me that has never been wrong… my parents were not married when I was conceived and my mother isn't from a gentry family, he was born to a servant and a rogue cultivator himself... but I’ve heard that name enough that it doesn’t have the intended effect on me anymore.” 

 “What do you mean?” Jin Ling’s act of raising his chin in confidence faltered as he turned to his cousin. 

“Being called an insult, you're supposed to feel bad about yourself, right? It’s supposed to hang over your head like a label ,” he described quickly, slapping himself lightly for getting so analytical with someone like Jin Ling who looked confused, “what I mean is when people call me a bastard I think, yeah, they’re right, I am the son of the most notorious criminal of the Great Clans, the man who created a whole different kind of cultivation, and that should make me feel bad, because it’s not a good thing to be called,” he paused, watching as Jin Ling slowly nodded along, “but instead it makes me want to prove myself, you’know . It’s like when people used to call you an orphan, you would instantly want to beat them. When people call me a bastard, I instantly want to validate myself in proving that they are wrong. That I may have been born out of wedlock, but that doesn’t dwarf the love my parents had, nor does the blood that courses through my veins define me as a person. At the end of the day, my actions aren’t my father’s actions, nor are they my mother’s actions. They are Lan Yuan’s actions.” he finished lamely, shrugging his shoulders indecisively as if he wasn’t really sure of what he was saying. 

“Even after everything I’ve said to you?” Jin Ling asked with a sharper bite than he should have, “every insult I’ve sent your way, every insult your clan has called you, you like being called a bastard? ”

“ No! ” Sizhui quickly backed up his thoughts, “no no, who would want to be called that, I’m just saying that the word loses its bite if I change how I feel towards it. I’m just- ” angrily, he threw his hands up in the air, trying to get his point across, “you’re not following what I’m saying… it’s fine, I’m just rambling.” Taking a deep breath, Sizhui collected his hands on his lap and counted to ten in his head, “it’s okay, there is no need for myself to get angry if you're not following. My Bobo likes to say, ‘a discussion is an exchange of knowledge, while an argument is an exchange of ignorance .’ So let’s discuss instead of arguing.” 

Finally opening his eyes, Sizhui made eye contact with Jin Ling who looked shell-shocked. “How did you-” he cut himself off with a stutter, “you were angry and you just let it pass over you. I’ve never seen anyone do that. Our Uncle Jiang has to walk the entire perimeter of Lotus Pier before he is cooled down enough to even start speaking.” 

There was a space between the two, one that Sizhui didn’t even know they had, “I’ve grown up in a clan that idealizes the act of ‘ regulating oneself, ’ we strive to not let our anger control us by mediation. Surely it is different in your clan, both your sides of the family have a history of anger issues...”

The look on Jin Ling’s face told him that he wanted to say something snarky, but he swallowed it furiously, “I want to be better,” Jin Ling grounded out, slamming his fist down on the table. Both boys stood up with a sudden gasp as the two tea cups spilled their content onto the floor. “ Damnit ,” he whispered, wringing his sleeves in his fingers, “I don’t want to let my anger… control me like it does my uncle.” 

Sizhui casted a gaze to Jingyi who hadn’t even budged from the loud sound, as he began mopping up the liquid with a small towel they had used earlier to wash up before bed, “did something happen?” he asked without looking up, “to you and your uncle?” 

Jin Ling began pacing around the room, picking at every tassel on the blinds and fixing every item that wasn’t affixed to a surface, “after you left,” he narrowed his eyes at the candle holder he straightened, “my uncle was just so angry and he grabbed me…” subconsciously, Jin Ling rubbed his fingers on the place the bruise was, “and I was so scared,  I ran off. But at that moment I realized that anger and grief are such… close companions . I had a lot of time to think about what had happened to me, I ran away, almost drowned myself in a river, then ran away again when I was found, but I just feel that my own parents wouldn’t be as proud of my actions as I thought they would be. ” there was a significant pause as he turned around to face Sizhui. Instead of what he thought would be a look of sorry like everyone else had given him when he went on tagents like that, he found a compassionate smile on his cousin, it only spurred him on to speak his mind more fluently. 

Though what Jin Ling wished to speak and what sat on the tip of his tongue felt so hard to put into his own native language. Growing up, the kids in his classes were always told to speak cautiously around him. As if he was a fragile glass vase ready to burst at the seams. “In my life, I’ve had two father figures, my Uncle Guangyao and Uncle Jiang, but never a mother’s touch. One time my Aunt Su had hugged me after my eighth birthday, she had given me such a beautiful gift of expensive brushes to write with and I was just so happy and I hugged her and-” Jin Ling paused, clenching his teeth tightly in his jaw, “it felt so good to be hugged by a woman that even when I was so happy it was like a stab to my chest that I never would never be able hug my mom. ” 

When his parents had died, Jin Ling was no older than one month and the only physical image of his parents would be able to be accessed in a long hallway in Carp Tower. It was a thin hallway with lines of paintings, a bunch of faces that glared down at the image of a snotty, crying kid who collapsed at the end of the hallway. The painting was big, one that reached to the ceiling and just brushed the floor with an intricate frame with two amazing people encased in a memory. Though people in Jin Ling’s life told him that he looked a lot like Uncle Jiang, he always thought he looked more like his Father. Jin Zixuan... his name, looked strong in the portrait, with warm almond eyes that only looked at Mother. He was standing while Mother was sitting, his whole body radiating a kind of confidence when his hands looked so gentle on the lavender shoulder of the woman who sat beside him. 

Jiang Yanli was a soft looking lady, one with a smile that felt like hot water after a cold day outside and eyes that could soothe any heartache. Uncle Jiang wasn’t one to speak very often about Jin Zixuan, but he could wax poetry about Yanli. Speaking mountains and rivers to Jin Ling about the person his mother was, trying to paint this image so he could feel as if he knew her personally, but in the end, a painting was a painting. They were just a snapshot of memories that fade with times and it was as if Jin Ling’s parents were slipping through his fingers like sand on the shore of Lotus Pier. 

“Your mom,” Sizhui words almost startled him as if he had lost himself so fully in the memory that he didn’t even notice the other’s presence, “what was she like?” 

What was she like? A question for the masses. Jin Ling had a theory of what the type of person she was from all the stories Uncle Jiang could spin, but he could never know her. Never sit down and ask her questions about his Uncles or see the way she had looked at his Father. Even Uncle Jiang had said that the soup he made from her recipe didn’t have the authenticity it did whenever she had made it. “I don’t know,” he uttered, lips going in a tight line to try and hold back his tears, “isn’t that cruel, to not even know the type of person your own mother was. I can sit for hours and stare at her portrait in Glamour Hall, but what use is it that I can never hear her voice, doesn’t that hurt you too?” 

Soundlessly, Sizhui rose from his place at the table and when they stood in front of each other Jin Ling had noticed that they were the same height. He had never been this close to his cousin, literally and figuratively. Standing so close he could count every mole on the boy’s pale face, even the one that was hidden under the shadow of his lower lip. With no fanfare, Sizhui lifted his arms up and with a warm smile embraced the younger boy. Jin Ling had just melted in the hug, like he had been starved for so long that the warmth of another person had him under a spell. He gripped the back of the boy’s robe, squeezing the pale blue fabric so tightly he thought he ripped it. “It hurts me everyday,” Sizhui’s voice was by his ear, his placating, but shaking slightly with every consonant, “to see children in my sect be cared for by their mothers and feel like such an outcast… an imposter to my own feelings . To wish everyday that I could just meet my Mom, for just a minute, and know that it will never happen. To have one day that I don’t hear those around me say I am different, because of the blood in my veins, as if my father’s righteous heart wasn’t enough to counteract what my Mother had done.” 

Jin Ling rested his heavy head against Sizhui’s chest, feeling the soft fabric on his cheek and the rise and fall through the hollow of his collarbone, it brought a melancholy feeling towards the surface at the person he was hugging so tightly, “I hate your mom,” he whispered, “I hate him so much, because he took something so precious from me before I could know just how precious it was.” 

“You have a right to your anger,” Sizhui’s hand was placed on his upper back, his movement soothing as he rubbed a large circle around the start of his spine, “I don’t know all of my Mother’s actions, nor do I know what was going on inside his head, but taking someone’s parents away is the worst offense and what he paid for his actions was to have his son play the same fate. I don’t think I can ever forgive him for the grief he had subjected to my Father, but everyday I can try my best to be better than him.” 

“I want to be better than my Uncle Jiang,” the words felt like they were spilling out like vomit, “his anger controls him more than he thinks it does and as a child I took from his example. I’ve always wanted to show him I was worth something , the nephew he could look at and see his older sister, but all the times I’ve spent trying my best to impress him was futile in the attempt. He has these standards that even I cannot strive to meet, because they are mysteriously high and when I try to be just like him it only makes him angrier.” he shook his head, feeling the bony hand on his back begin to move further up his spine and up into his hair, Sizhui’s nails gently scratched over his scalp, soothing the headache that was making it’s forefront, “Uncle Guangyao says it’s just in Uncle Jiang’s nature, that growing up my Grandmother had set unbelievable standards for him, but shouldn’t he as a child wish to strive to be better than his elders?”

“My father had high standards for me as well,” Sizhui professed quickly, “growing up, my childhood was spent locked away in the Jingshi with my Father during his seclusion. I learned from him and mourned with him when his scars were too much. For a while I spent most of my childhood making sure my Father wasn’t going to kill himself with grief that in the end I ask myself if I truly had a childhood . My identity hidden away, my mother a shadowy figure, my Father punished for his actions of fighting his own sect. I resent him for the way I was brought up like you do your Uncle Jiang.” 

The word resent had such passion in it, Jin Ling had to lift his head to gaze up at his cousin who was looking away from him. When they made eye contact, Sizhui’s gold eyes were like a roaring fire, one that was boiling from the intense fuel, “Resent?” he repeated, “I could never resent my Uncle Jiang, maybe a little, but never in such a passion. He was only eighteen when I was thrusted into his arms and instructed to care for me, I don’t think he was ever ready to be a parent. I am thankful for the way he stepped to the challenge of raising me, having to cast aside his own grief so I could grow up knowing that I was loved. Even when he was harsh with me and everything felt so bleak I was able to turn to my Uncle Guangyao and know he would listen to my problems and give me sound answers. And when Guangyao didn’t give the answers I wanted I always knew I could turn to Uncle Jiang to slap me on the side of my head and show me ways to give my bullies a reason not to underestimate me .” The fire in Sizhui’s eyes was dulling, but he was still listening, “we may be orphaned children with this…  bullseye on our back that everyone knows our insecurity and I’m not saying that your Father wasn’t awful about raising the way he did, but he still was there for you when nobody else was. Aren’t you thankful he had found you? ” 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I am thankful,” he huffed and Jin Ling was sure he was going to be pushed away, right when he had thought he had his cousin’s favor he had to mess it up by his inability to shut up. However, to his surprise, Sizhui just embraced him tighter, “I was suppose to be dead,” his words were soft as he gazed off towards the window of the inn, watching the racing droplets patter onto the wooden frame, “my ashes spread across the nightless city with my Aunt and Uncles, but my Father still went to the Burial Mounds, even when there was nothing left he wanted to protect the one place my Mother had called home. The relief he must have felt when he had found me is hard for me to understand, because I know it was astronomical to him and I have never felt that kind of relief in my life.” 

“And yet you still go out and put yourself in harm's way,” a cold hand pressed to Sizhui’s cheek, a finger cautiously tracing the black circle that ran under his eye, “so why do you go looking for this sword still? I’m not trying to fight, Sizhui, and it is a genuine question of what fuels you do these things?” 

“Because it is what my mother would of done ,” his words were firm, absolute , like saying the sky is blue he knew it was as sound as a fact, “people say I am infected with his bad blood, ” he lifted his hands, creating his own quotation marks with his fingers, “but is it truly bad? Is it bad to yearn ? When one loses a limb, don’t they want to know where it’s buried, because it’s a part of them . My Mother’s memory is tainted like an ink stain to a paper, but there were words there once. Under that ink stain is a poem so mysterious that I hold the paper up to light and try to read every word hidden under that smudge. People say I have an inkstain too, one that has been on my paper since the day I was born, but to some an inkstain is a work of art, aren’t all paintings just ink stains? ” The hand in Jin Ling’s hair clenched just ever so slightly, like Sizhui missed a butterfly he was trying cup in his palms, “I need to know that poem underneath the stain, I cannot go my whole life to stare at that paper and never know what was written on it before the accident, because it’s a memory of my Mother. ” 

“I understand,” he wasn’t sure if he did really, but something inside him knew what the other was talking about. One time as a child, Uncle Guangyao had been cleaning out his office and had found an old love letter that Jin Ling’s Mother had written to his Father. It was in a hidden compartment in a drawer, one that you could remove the bottom and there was the letter. Guangyao had revealed that before the office was his it was first his Father’s so the letter was probably hidden away so whenever Zixuan grew weary, he could pull out the paper and read the words of his wife. Jin Ling looked at the script written so beautifully, tracing the curves of characters and trying to imagine what his Mother’s voice would be like. In the letter it was a confession of her love, telling Father that even when he was being arrogant she found herself drawn to him, even going as far to scold him upfront for his behavior. She spoke of Jin Ling, still in her stomach, and how excited she was to meet him. It was a memory of his mother and father, one taken from her memories and placed onto paper to give him just a snapshot of what they were like in their living wake. So much better than their lifeless portrait hung on the Carp Tower wall like a trophy.

“And that spirit in that sword,” Sizhui went on, stepping out of the hug, but not without squeezing Jin Ling’s shoulder in a reminder that he was still there, “you don’t understand how important that sword is to me, not even I can describe how important it is to myself. This ribbon,” he reached towards his hair, toying with the strange red ribbon that Jin Ling remembered was Sizhui’s mothers, “it’s a piece of him, one of the only pieces I am able to hold of him, because everything my Mother had created had been destroyed. For so long I thought everything my Mom created was put to ashes and yet the Stygian Tiger Amulet isn’t! It was shattered, or so people had thought it was, by my Mother’s own hand no less!” He cupped his hands together, placing them over his heart, “if the Stygian Amulet is still out there, what is to say my Mother isn’t also out there. I can’t sit here and watch as my life be put to flame , because of my blood when I could be finding him! If your parents were thought to be alive, wouldn’t you search for them too?” There was a pause, one deep as a trench that sent Sizhui taking a wide step back, his heart breaking could be seen in his eyes, “Jin Ling… I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No,” he cut the boy off, “I can attest even if it’s outlandish , what is to say a phoenix won’t rise from it’s ashes. I hate your mom,” he repeated, reaching out to grasp at Sizhui’s bony hands, feeling the jutting knuckle under his thumb, “but, you're still my cousin, your mother had loved my mother so much even when they weren’t blood related, she would of done anything for him. If being better than my Uncle Jiang means I have to set aside my prejudices towards your mom, I can swallow my pride to help my family. In the end, isn’t that what we are, family? ” 

“Though it’s been a long time since i’ve said,” Sizhui squeezed his hand back, “ we are family and what I learned in my short life is that family isn’t supposed to make you feel good . They are supposed to make you angrier than you have ever felt and they’re supposed to make you shed your deepest tears, because in the end they are family. ” 

“I’m sorry,” Jin Ling eyes were blurring with tears, he went on even when Sizhui had shushed him with sad eyes, “I don’t think I can ever change the past, nor can I change what I might say in the future, but I stand now and say sorry for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have acted like that, I shouldn’t have meshed my hatred for your Mother with you, because I know you aren’t your Mom. You have this bleeding heart and you forgive so easily it should be a bad thing-- but it’s never a bad thing! I was your friend, before I was your enemy and even then you never spoke cruelly to me, because that isn’t the kind of person you are. I know you’ll forgive me and I think that’s the worst part. ” 

Sizhui smiled with his teeth, cheeks lifting to scrunch up his eyes, “do you want me to not forgive you?” he joked, earning a laugh from Jin Ling, “a sorry doesn’t fix these long years and I don’t think I will ever truly forgive you for everything you have done to me, because if we pretend like it never happened then who is to say it won’t happen again. Instead of an apology, may I ask for something different?” 

“Of course,” Jin Ling gaped, “anything you want I will give.” 

“A promise then.” like Fairy, Jin Ling tilted his head cautiously, repeating back when Sizhui had said to him, “ yes , a promise. I cannot map out what will happen in these few days, nobody can be sure what the future has written out for me. I know it won’t be good, because now that the Amulet has risen I am the next scapegoat of the Great Clans, so if it comes to my demise I want you to promise me you will not incriminate yourself. I want you to take Jingyi and tell everyone that I had put him under my spell, make sure nothing comes back for him and help him get my Mother’s name plate from his grave and-” tears were beginning to well in his eyes, the grip he had on Jin Ling’s hands was painful, “put my name plate next to my Mom’s so I can be with him in the afterlife.” 

“I-” Jin Ling was crying too, his face was hot all over and he knew it was because the next batch of tears were going to push their way through his waterline, “ don’t be so pessimistic! ” 

“ Promise me, ” Sizhui demanded, “promise me you will bury me beside him and get Jingyi out of this. With my Mother’s sword out there I can’t do anything. I cannot even see my Father, what would he even say when he sees my face, he’ll be heartbroken .” Their hands separated so Sizhui could gently press a pad to his crooked nose, a long strip of blood began welling down the shaft of his nostril, “I want to live a legacy that my mother would be proud of, even if my death is brutal. ” 

“Yes, reluctantly I’ll promise you, but we won’t just sit around,” Jin Ling ruffled in his robe, pulling out a folded gold handkerchief and gently dabbed at the blood that stained his cousin’s cupid’s bow, “a legacy wouldn’t be made sitting around and doing nothing, it would be doing things your way . You are already one step ahead, you’ve been tracking your father for days now-- and I can help you!” 

“ Help me? ” Jin Ling tried not to let the words sting him from the way Sizhui seemed so hesitant on repeating, “Oh no, not you too . I already have Jingyi going against my will, why would you help me too?”

“Didn’t you say we were family?” He grinned, “we aren’t supposed to make you feel good and I can be of great help. You said you wanted your Mother’s sword and I’m the only person who knows where it is!” 

“No?” The tone he used was confused, “the sword is with my father, we had discovered it during the attack on the Mo’s palace. It is the one tainted with the Amulet’s energy.” 

Jin Ling gently led Sizhui to sit down at the table. They casted a glance to Jingyi who was creating a puddle on the mattress from the way he was drooling, “That isn’t your Mother’s sword, I know that for a definite fact,” he revealed, pulling a blank talisman from his robe, “the sword your Father has may be tainted with the resentful energy of the Stygian Amulet, but your Mother’s sword is in the Treasure Room of Carp Tower. After… well after the death of your mother, my Uncle Guangyao collected his sword and it was supposed to be offered to your Father, but he was put in seclusion so quickly we never got to give it to him.” he began drawing the thin, branchlike sword with a broken ink stick on the talisman, “at Carp Tower we offered it to Zewu-Jun, but he told us it would be too raw to give it to your Father now and my Uncle Jiang had absolutely refused to take it, so it had always stayed in Carp Tower.” 

“You’ve seen it?” Sizhui blinked, massaging his temple as he was given the drawing. Instead of the Ghost Sword he had seen in the Underworld Chamber, this sword was thinner, more agile-looking than the bulky saber. He felt almost played , that he had wrongfully identified his Mother’s sword. 

“Yes, it’s name is Suiban,” Jin Ling nodded, pointing a finger at the drawing with a smug smile. 

Slowly, Sizhui lifted his head, eyebrows furrowing, “It’s name isn’t something that you can just forget,” he stated a little angrier than he expected, “ this is my mother’s sword, it has a spirit that you cannot just say it’s whatever. ”

Much to the older’s surprise, Jin Ling barked with laughter that he immediately tried to cover up as he casted a wayward glance to Jingyi who was still passed out, “ no, ” he giggled, “the sword, it’s name is Suiban-- Whatever! That is the name your Mother had given it. I had asked Uncle Jiang about it and he seemed pissed about the name still to this day !” 

Sizhui glanced back at the picture, a soft smile starting to tip it’s way from the curl of lips. “My mom was truly a troublemaker,” he shook his head softly, “can I see my mother’s sword?” the words poured out his mouth so quickly he was unsure if he crossed a line from the startled look of Jin Ling, “my death is…” he paused, soothing his thumb along the drawing, “ it is inexorable , so I guess I can start making dying wishes, right?” 

“Inexorable,” Jin Ling frowned slightly, he didn’t even want to think about his cousin’s death, but he didn’t want to beat around the bush either, “I guess that’s true, if you want to see the sword I can bring you to it, but that would also mean going to Carp Tower. Your Uncle is supposed to be there, I believe there is a meeting going to happen-- so we would have to sneak around if you didn’t want to be seen.” 

“What use is there sneaking around when I already know my death,” Sizhui chuckled darkly, “I’d rather it be known that I was walking into the jaws of the tiger with my head held high.” 

“We would still need to sneak into the Treasure Room,” he prefaced plainly, “Uncle Guangyao never liked me going in there in the first place, there is a lot of dangerous relics in there and I’m sure he wouldn’t be too thrilled that I’m taking you in there either. So we’ll need a plan to skirt around him and lucky for you, I’m an expert at getting in there without being seen.” 

When the morning sun began to rise in the sky, Sizhui and Jin Ling had yet to fall asleep. Jingyi awoke with a startled snort, embarrassed that he actually passed out when danger was right in their room, but what he found was the two thought to be enemies, sitting shoulder to shoulder discussing a drawn plan over many tiny talismans. There was a storm brewing, he thought to himself, a storm that everyone knew one day was going to let loose along it’s fertile land, but the day was always a mystery, until now. He let the two explain to him the plan of breaking into the Treasure Room for Sizhui’s last wishes and he let all the information sink in the way boats plummeting into the bottomless ocean. 

When the streets began to burst with life, the trio had disappeared from the inn with a route set for Lanling, Jin. 

___❀___

The Past

Jiang Waynin sometimes really hated his brother. All his life he had been second best, always in ranking, fighting, authority, even his own Father would carry A-Xian and yet had never carried him a day in his life. Perhaps, he probably held him as an infant, but he knew that the last time he was set down on the ground, never to be picked up again, was before his fourth birthday. When he was nine, that was when that brat had walked into his life and weaseled his way into their hearts.

A-Xian was everything Jiang Waynin wasn’t. He was compassionate and spoke with such a way that even Yanli was wrapped around his finger the minute he waltzed in. Who could blame him anyways, Jiang Waynin just reminded his Father of his authoritarian wife and A-Xian was Father’s youthful romance with Cangse Sanren. Though, A-Xian could never really be blamed, he was just a child . Something that Jiang Waynin could juxtapose right back to his brother’s own son who he hated, because it reminded him of the sly asshole that was Wei Wuxian. 

Closing his eyes, Jiang Waynin tried not to look around where he was walking. The Burial Mound was terrifying, a place that shouldn’t have even existed. The wind blew with the dust of corpses while the ground stepped upon was littered with jutted bones. His brother called this place a home at one point, an insult to Lotus Pier . Who could even compare the two places at being a home. 

His temper was short, it has always been short, but now with Jin Guangshan breathing down his neck and whispering at how his brother is purposely going against him was getting on his nerves. Even Lan Wangji was pissing him off, the man couldn’t have a simple conversation without bringing up A-Xian’s health and the baby’s health at that. Jiang Waynin was surprised that the baby was even alive at this point, it must have been hanging on by a thread of his brother’s core, because in a place like this, life couldn’t be made. 

Earlier last night, he had told Yanli that he was going to bring A-Xian home. She had a dream about them drifting apart, her crying at the end of a pier and waving her hands like a lunatic while her precious brother sailed away in a boat. Deep down inside, and Jiang Waynin meant deep, deep, deep, down, he truly cared about his brother and he wanted him home just as much as Yanli did. After the Sun-shot campaign, there was something off about him, even before he had gotten pregnant with the spawn of Lan Wangji. 

He wasn’t carrying his sword, he was drinking himself stupid (before he knew he was pregnant), he couldn’t even take a punch . There was something wrong and it wasn’t the fucking baby, no matter what A-Xian would whine about it being exactly that. Something happened during the time that his brother disappeared when he had gotten his core revived from Baoshan Sanren. They had promised to meet at a tea shop, but when he got there, nobody was there. Lan Wangji was more of a wreck than he was in the end, and the Lan though known as being regal, Jiang Waynin thought him to just be petty. Petty enough that he had confronted him about his relationship with his own brother, acting like he knew their relationship. 

When they found A-Xian, he caused the brutal death of those who had wronged him. Wen Chao was a bad person, believe Jiang Waynin- he wasn’t going to say the guy didn’t deserve his death , but it was gruesome. His hair was scratched out of his head, distraught by hallucinations, and practically eating the flesh off his arms it was as if he was going crazy from the torture that his brother had cultivated. At that time Jiang Waynin had turned a blind eye towards the cultivation, saying that he was simply glad that he was dead and Wei Ying was on their side, but he could never forget the horror that flashed across Lan Wangji’s eyes. 

Jiang Cheng was pulled out of thought when he stood in the entrance of the Wen Camp. Last time he had been there, A-Xian was so heavily pregnant he couldn’t stand for more than a few minutes and Wen Ning was still being cleansed of his resentful energy. They had fought in the mountains, Jiang Cheng had broken his arm, but not before he sliced his pregnant brother on the abdomen and not a day that had gone by that it didn’t haunt him. He lost contact, forced himself to close his eyes to his brother’s crimes and when everyone looked to him he told them A-Xian had deflected. He couldn’t bear to see Lan Wangji heart broken, because he had only seen that man smile once and it was after he told him the baby was born and healthy. 

Looking around the camp, it still was bare. The gardens had odd colored plants that his brother at the time swore up and down were edible and a shack that was constructed haphazardly. It was sturdy enough, but Jiang Waynin still didn’t breath too harshly around it. 

“Young Master Wei!” A cry startled him, he turned to one of the Uncles that was holding a garden rack menacing at him. After all this time, he wasn’t so sure that these people should trust him either, so he didn’t let the rake hit him too hard. 

Three people emerged from the Demon Subdue Palace, Wen Qing had her sword already drawn and Wen Ning still looked like a dead corpse. Even in the harsh sunlight of the Burial Mound, he still thought Wen Qing was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. She had stunning, sun-kissed skin and luscious brown hair, he just wanted to sit and watch her brush it for hours. He snapped out of it quickly, drawing his own sword halfway in warning. 

“Now, now,” A-Xian, no Wei Wuxian, breathed, pushing the two Wens aside so he could walk through them. He didn’t look good, he would even go as far as saying he looked awful. His skin was sallow and his eyes were a bruised red, he looked like he hadn’t gotten sleep in weeks. Though he almost gasped outright when he saw the small bundle his brother had in his cradled arms around, close to his chest, and wrapped multiple times in the same brown and black wool that made up his own Hanfu. “Jiang Cheng,” he said in that sweet voice that Jiang Cheng could just close his eyes and pretend they were back in Lotus Pier, “a nice surprise!” 

“It’s never a good surprise,” Wen Qing muttered, sheathing her sword on her belt. She blew a strand of her hair out of her face to give a pointed glare to Jiang Cheng, it made his knees weak. 

Wei Ying stepped forward a little closer to him, but was stopped when Wen Qing put out her hand and gave him a pointed look. “Wen Qing,” he drawled in a joking mood, brushing aside her hand to stand right in front of his little brother, “I just want to introduce A-Yuan to his Shushu. ” 

“Yuan,” Jiang Cheng tested the name on his tongue as he watched Wei Ying’s head tilt down at the bundle in his arms and skillfully use one hand to gently push the edges of the black wool away from the infant’s face. Jiang Cheng was not expecting for his brother to take a hold of his arms and deposit the newborn into the safe space. Trying to instantly cope with the surprise of his brother’s actions, Jiang Cheng jostled Yuan more than he probably should have. Wei Ying looked so natural as he fussed over the placement of Jiang Cheng’s hand and when he was finally satisfied with how his brother was situated he stepped back giving the younger man too much trust than he probably should have to the person who had stabbed him earlier this year. Wei Ying’s face softened as he stood in front of his clan leader brother, giving the two of them a mushy look as he petted the top of his newborn son’s thick black hair that was sticking in all directions. “Hope...” he finally said, racking his mind for the meaning of the name.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t leave the baby’s tiny face, the moonbeams in his eyes, or the rose dusting of his cheeks, maybe it was even the subtle curve of his brow that reminded him of Wei Ying’s internal stubbornness. The more he studied the face of Yuan, the more he became enamored with his existence. Just as he was about to glance up to Wei Ying’s face, to tell him how fascinated he was by the miracle, did he notice that the gleam of his new nephew’s life came at a great cost.

Wei Ying was tired...and it showed, it even seemed that Jiang Cheng could count the shades of white his brother was turning and without any better judgement of his own health, Wei Ying let out a soft gasp and stumbled backwards into what seemed like a slow motion fall. Wen Ning caught him easily, Guiding him to at least sit on one of the larger rocks within the cave, even though Wen Ning wanted to demand his master to go back to laying down because his health was not worth the risk. Wei Ying held a weak grasp onto Wen Ning’s hand as he breathed through the spasms in his stomach and chest, only to be left with complete weakness when they stopped.

Jiang Cheng was rooted to the floor, holding a now fussy baby that seemed to have hyper senses of his mother’s decline of health. His face becoming like a tomato, Jiang Cheng unconsciously began to rock on his feet to try and try to calm the boy. “He’s been like this,” Wen Qing startled him, he turned to her seeing a pained look across her face, “since giving birth he’s been too weak to even stand up.” 

“He’s stubborn,” he found himself saying as he bounced the baby that began making sounds of discomfort, “not even childbirth can kill him.” 

Wen Qing laughed, something small and full of tinkling bells as she crossed her arms, “why are you here? You couldn’t have known A-Yuan had been born, nobody outside of this camp knows.” 

“Lan Wangji knows,” he incriminated the father with a frown, “he told me against better judgement , his words not mine, I wanted to see if it was true and not his sick imagination.” 

They gazed off to Wei Ying now leaning more on Wen Ning than the rock itself, he took deep breaths  as his hand seemed to find it’s way to his stomach naturally. He had a forced smile on his face as he talked to Wen Ning who supported him strongly, yet the concern was plastered all over his features. “Lan Wangji is trying,” Wen Qing muttered, hand tightening around the hilt of her sword, “some better than others.” 

“He left- ”

“Don’t start this here,” she cut him off naturally, “not in front of A-Yuan,” with a pinched look, she moved forward and took the baby from his arms. The soft, warm weight taken from him felt much heavier as his arms fluttered to his side with nothing to do, “sorry if we’re not crazy abour you being here, last time you stabbed a very pregnant man .” 

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes so far back in his skull it hurt, “yeah, and that very pregnant man broke my arm,” 

“You had it coming,” Wen Qing huffed, shuffling the baby so it was pressed to her chest. Immediately the baby began to sniffle, a soft cry already on it’s lip. She shushed him, walking towards his brother, Jiang Cheng just followed her without thought, watching as they exchanged holds on the baby. He felt like he was melting when he saw the awe on Wei Ying’s face as he held his son pressed to his cheek. 

“Now, now,” he scolded softly, the color in his cheeks coming back gently as A-Yuan cooed softly, his tiny fist coming around a tress of Wei Ying’s dark hair and squeezing the life out of the strand. “He’s fussy when I’m not with him and I guess I am too,” he laughed, his tone so hushed that Jiang Cheng was surprised that the boy even had it in him. As a child, even in adulthood, Wei Ying was known for his boisterous mouth, but Jiang Cheng guessed motherhood had its way of changing a person. “Jiang Cheng,” those silver eyes were looking into his soul, “not that I’m not happy you're here, but why did you come and visit me?” 

The words he prepared were swallowed, choking him and pulling at his chest to tell his brother of his happy news. “Yanli,” he tilted his head down to try and hide his smile, “she will be going into labor soon.” 

“Labor?!” Wei Ying yelped, standing up so suddenly that he swayed like a frail leaf in the wind. Wen Ning grasped at his Master’s arm, keeping him steady as he forced him to sit back down. “It seems like just yesterday she told me she was pregnant with Jin Rulan, is Jin Zixuan still really letting me name his child?”

"Sadly,” Jiang Cheng huffed, “we cannot all love to have illegitimate children with flowery names.” 

The look that Wen Qing gave him, he felt he might have stepped over a boundary, but Wei Ying laughed joyfully, bouncing a fussy A-Yuan and peppering the tiny face with kisses. “Aww, he doesn’t mean it, Baobei ,” he cooed, leaving a loud and wet kiss on the apple of the boy’s soft cheek, “your Baba loves you very much, doesn’t he?” 

They were all quiet, nobody wanting to question Lan Wangji’s love for his son. Wen Qing had to submit herself first hand to seeing the man fuss over the tiny baby whenever Wei Ying was called back to the Burial Mound to take care of Wen Ning. When her brother had awoken from his indefinite slumber she had been overjoyed until he had been taken over by the resentful energy that infected him from always keeping his emotions in. She wasn’t expecting to see Lan Wangji in tow of what she could call a second brother. The tall man was cradling A-Yuan so closely to his chest, she could barely even see the boy’s face buried deep in the shawl that Wei Ying would use to wrap the baby to his chest. 

Her nephew was thrusted into her arms for what felt like seconds as Lan Wangji played Rest to sooth Wen Ning and then immediately after A-Yuan was plucked from her arms and placed back into the arms of his father. Just the way he looked at the baby was so gooey , it was as if A-Yuan had spun the stars just for his father. Even when A-Yuan had grasped his father’s hair and pulled with all his baby might, Lan Wangji was entrapped under the infant’s spell. 

Wei Ying was no better than his lover, but he added on with being fiercely protective. She could tell now at the moment he was calm, easily bouncing A-Yuan up and down as he hushed the tears, but there was a tight string in his shoulders. “You know you’re invited to the one month celebration,” Jiang Cheng said off-handedly, looking anywhere but his brother, “Wei Wuxian...you can’t hide out here forever....” The string in Wei Ying’s shoulders snapped as he deflated, but didn’t seem to acknowledge the words Jiang Cheng had said. Wen Qing knew he wasn’t being childish, even if it was in the man’s nature, but as if he just didn’t want to recognize the unfortunate piece to his present situation. “A-Yuan needs his father-” 

“ Jiang Cheng, ” his brother’s words were thick with anger as he turned with sharp eyes. If looks could kill, Jiang Cheng was sure he would have been stabbed to death by those sword colored eyes. “Don’t you think I know that,” he hissed slowly like a snake ready to pounce on its prey. There was a red glint in his eye, a murderous sparkle . It was easy to pretend his brother to be this happy prankster like he had been in his childhood, but now it felt like salt in his wounds that his brother wasn’t who he thought. It was like looking into the eyes of a different man, rather than his big brother who threw him off the pier whenever things got too heated. 

The baby must have sensed the mood, because A-Yuan shrieked with wails. His tiny face scrunched up and he turned the color of Wei Ying’s ribbon. Jiang Cheng felt like shit , he had successfully made his nephew cry twice after only meeting him today. “It-” he stuttered, cursing himself inwardly as he crouched beside him. His (strong, brash, scary ) brother held the infant close to his chest, soothing a hand over the baby’s small spine and cooing, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he never had to explain himself before, never to someone like his brother that always took his word as joke, “I wasn’t trying to say Lan Wangji wasn’t a good dad, I’m just saying-” 

“Jiang Cheng,” his name was now said a little softer instead of the harsh tone it was said minutes earlier, “I know,” Wei Ying’s smile was plastered on his face like a mask, “oh, xiao tuzi ,” he said now to the baby who hadn’t quieted down. And then the strangest thing had happened, because Jiang Cheng watched as his brother closed his tired eyes and a tear was pushed from the movement, streaking down the side of his cheek. 

“Master,” Wen Ning frowned, also taking a seat beside him, “here, let me take A-Yuan, you're upset.”

“ Please, ” Wei Ying’s arms tighten around the baby’s bundle, turning his body away from Wen Ning, “please don’t take my son away from me, he’s all I have of my Lan Zhan.” 

Never had Jiang Cheng witnessed his brother cry, not even the time that his parents died did his brother ever shed a tear in front of him. He played the role of eldest when his sister when she was ill, placating his depression and making them both food. At this moment he doesn’t know who to believe , the person he had grown up with or the man currently in his brother’s body. He had matured in a way, but also didn’t at the same time, it was as if there was a switch in his brain that went off. 

So, hesitantly as he always has been, Jiang Cheng put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and rubbed the fabric, trying not to upturn his stomach at feeling his brother’s bones through all those layers. At that moment he didn’t know what to do, how to comfort, what to say, everything was drawing a blank in his head. If there was a hole in his relationship with his brother already, it was now a trench at this point. 

He could obviously tell that his brother loved his son, the way he looked at the baby, held him so tightly, and yet Jiang Cheng knew this wouldn’t last. In a perfect world his brother may have been able to live out his life, but the threats hanging in the air were dark ones. He had been subjected to every little word that even when he told the Great Clans that his brother deflected, they had just continued as if Wei Ying was still a part of Yummeng. He wanted that, more than anything he wanted his brother safe at Lotus Pier, free to raise A-Yuan, but there were sacrifices that had to be made first. All he could do was hope, like the namesake of A-Yuan, hope for a better future .

When Jin Zixuan died, Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure if he could truly be trusted to believe in hope anymore. Last time he had seen his brother, he was harmless. Frail from such a harsh pregnancy and the people of the Burial Mound were busy with stocking up for the winter. Yanli had given birth to A-Ling, a much healthier baby than A-Yuan, much fatter too. Just like his brother’s child, the baby seemed to light up with his fat cheeks and giggles that sounded off every wall of Carp Tower. 

Wei Ying was supposed to be at the one month of A-Ling, he had promised he would make it and to show Yanli her nephew for the first time. However, every glimpse of happiness he had ever had died brutally . There was an ambush, all thanks to the cruel Jin Zixun who had thought Wei Ying had put a curse on him. When Jin Zixuan was going to check on the ambush and put a stop to it, he was caught in the crossfire and killed by Wen Ning. Yanli had collapsed to the floor, gripping A-Ling tightly to her chest as she cried to the heavens for such bad luck. Jiang Cheng couldn’t do anything, but watch . 

He watched as Jin Guangshan called for a war for the death of Jiang Cheng's brother and nephew. Raising swords and whispering for Wei Wuxian head, his generals, and his son. Nothing he did could sway his words, Guangshan had wanted revenge mixed in a pool of vile blood, and Jiang Cheng’s hope and faith was locked in a air-tight bottle and sent out to sea.

It was a tragedy, the kind that was bitter, cruel, but sound. Nobody could ever question it, because it felt like fate for his brother. His words at the Burial Mound felt like a curse, ‘You’know this can’t last forever.’ way to go Jiang Cheng , he thought bitterly, way to ruin such a good thing while it lasted. 

There was a ceremony held for Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun only days after. Jiang Cheng didn’t feel too good to be a part of it, but he told himself it was for the sake of a restful burial for his brother-in-law. They had it placed in the Nightless City, an inkling of doubt already filtering through his mind as he watched the keen eyes of Jin Guangyao pass over him when handing him a small dainty cup for the ceremony. 

He looked beside him to see Lan Wangji’s ramrod straight posture, the porcelain cup so tiny in his hand was almost laughable, but his golden eyes were lit with a spark of suspicion snapped to glare holes at Jiang Cheng. They shared an eyebrow raise of doubt, there was something in the air . Something they just couldn’t place at the moment, but they could feel a type of uneasiness waft through the crowd .

Jin Guangyao stepped away from the line of important cultivators to move towards his father, bowing low to Jin Guangshan who just nodded briefly at the bow. Picking up his own cup, he held it between his palms before lifting it in the air, “Whoever they are,” he projected onto the group, “whichever name they bear, this cup of liquor represents my respects to our past heroes!” Gesturing the cup to his right shoulder, he began pouring the liquid onto the rocky ground, “Your spirits are everlasting, may you rest in peace. ” 

Everyone around Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji repeated Jin Guangshan’s words, spilling their liquor against the ground and then with the ceremony, throwing the dainty cup onto the ground and letting it shatter to pieces. The two of them shared similar looks of discomfort, before smashing their cups and ignoring the cheers of their lesser disciples that radiated behind them. 

The crowd watched with fascination as Jin Guangyao leaned under the table with the offerings for the dead and lifted up a heavy lacquer box. It was decorated with plain swirls and had engravings of a sun on the lid. Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly, his fist clenching in his sides as he recognized the shape of an urn. The two Jins climbed the stairs of the palace, stopping at the middle of the steps. Jin Guangyao handed over the box to his father, bowing again with keen eyes, devoid of any kind of sadness. 

Jin Gaungshan lifted the urn over his head, showing off the box with a smug smile, “Wen Qing, Wen Qionglin,” and with no care of the last name he said, “ Wei Yuan .” 

There was a heavy body collapse beside him, Jiang Cheng stumbling backwards as Lan Wangji's whole body fell to the ground, his knees slamming into the harsh stone. His face was agape in horror, no words spilling from his mouth, seeming like they were lodged in the back of his throat, “two bandit chieftains of the Wen Clan and a child born with demonic blood. ” 

Lan Wangji’s hand moved slowly to cover his mouth, Lan Xichen gripping his brother’s shaking shoulders as he began a muffled sob. The lesser disciples behind the Twin Jades of Lan seemed to flutter with confusion as they watched their Hanguang-Jun begin to weep so fiercely. Jiang Cheng fell to his knee as he held the bicep of his brother’s husband, having no clue on how to comfort someone who just found out their child was dead. 

“I’ll scatter their cremains,” Jin Guangshan lifted the box and with his cultivation burst the box into pieces. Jiang Cheng wanted to reach out and grab at the ashes that spread across the rocky ground, wishing he could build back the body of A-Yuan for the sake of Lan Wangji. He had just seen the baby what felt days ago, he was supposed to see the child on Jin Ling’s one month celebration. Now the only thing he was seeing was the grey powder of a once very happy baby. 

The sobs that wracked Lan Wangji seemed bone deep, his whole body a staccato performance of trying to hold his breath. His eyes seemed out for blood as he glared at Sect Leader Jin who was proudly dusting off his hands from non existing remains, “tonight,” he flourished his gold sleeves, ignoring the crumpled form of Lan Wangji, “it is the two bandit chieftains and a bastard child with us, who's cremains are scattered, tomorrow it will be the rest of the Wen Clan’s last dregs and the Yiling Patriarch-- Wei Ying! ” 

The crowd was practically eating out of the palm of Jin Guangshan’s hand as they cheered. Raising their fists in the air, shouting a mantra of death and happiness. They paid no attention to the broken man who couldn’t find the motivation to stand up, Lan Wangji’s hand cupped a small piece of the cremains and held it to his chest. Looking up he searched his brother’s eyes, his whole body feeling like it was rejecting itself. It was as if the world had opened up under him and swallowed him in this dark pit of his worst nightmares. 

When Wei Ying was pregnant, Lan Zhan wasn’t sure what to think. There were lots of feelings of doubt and fear, his own father wasn’t getting the best dad award anytime soon. So why would he be any better , his brain chastised him. He couldn’t even get his soulmate to come back to his sect and give birth under trained professionals, which wasn’t a punch at Wen Qing, she was great, but his bleeding heart would have felt better if there was more than one doctor to help him. 

And then with all this swirling doubt and fear seemed to bleed away when he made eye contact with the tiny duet they made. A-Yuan melted his ice heart with his tiny fingers and sparkling eyes, it broke him . He wanted to protect the baby, keep him from the world’s cruel hand, because as a parent there was an unspoken duty of caring for their flesh and blood. It felt like he failed and his guilt was so profound as he grasped at the ashes in his hand and couldn’t know if it was his son’s or his found aunt and uncle. 

There were so many ‘should haves’ in his brain. He should have stayed with Wei Ying, he should have protected his family, and he should have done something! Anything! “It’s okay,” Lan Haun’s voice was strained as he held his brother’s shaking shoulders, nose pressed into his hair. Jiang Waynin was at his side, gripping his bicep so tight it felt like it was the only thing grounding him to the floor and not floating away.

“It’s not okay,” he hissed, finding his strength to stand and grasped the hilt of Bichen, unsheathing the blade at Jin Guangshan. There was a loud gasp from every corner of the disciples, “what gives you the right to kill a child! ” He snarled, his blade unsteady and voice pained. 

“Hanguang-Jun,” Jin Guangshan voice was light, almost joyful as he stepped down from his place on the steps, “we know you as a man of righteousness, but you have to know that child was born with bad blood. To think of what the child could have done when he grew up! Even now, why do you keep sticking up for your friend Wei Ying, he killed Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun.” 

“ And you killed my son! ” he cried, feeling the words lay heavy on his shoulders. Through the babbling gossip that surrounded him, Hanguang-Jun collapsed again to grasp at his ears, trying to block out the words that swirled around him like resentful energy. Only the sound of manic laughter made him raise his head and his heart fell to the floor as he saw Wei Ying’s figure. His laughter was haunting, almost like it was a mixture of a sob and clinging on sanity.   

That was enough for Jin Guangshan to turn around, all his focus that was on Hanguang-Jun was whisked away to stare at the Yiling Patriarch, “Wei Wuxian!” he bellowed, hand reaching to the hilt of his sword, “How dare you show up here!” 

Lan Wangji felt his arms be pulled up, his brother pulling him back to sit down on a rock that Jiang Cheng had dragged over. He felt heavy as he sat down, like every bone in his body weighed thousands of pounds. “Why can’t I be here!” his beloved taunted from above as he leaned back onto the stone piece affixed to the roof, “don’t forget back in the Sunshot Campaign I fought five thousand men alone, not to mention three thousand more!” the man tsked outright, twirling Chenqing between long bony fingers, “besides… my presence is just what you all want, right? Save your efforts from finding my den and just burn me today!” 

Lan Wangji did not, could not, hear anymore. It felt with every breath expressed through his lover’s chest was another stab to his heart, “you arrogant lout!” Nie Mingjue yelled from one of the corners, but everything felt underwater. 

“Clan leader Nie,” Wei Ying pushed off the rock fixture and began walking on the rope line that was the roof, “I’ve always been arrogant like this,” he sneered, before keen silver eyes like an arrow head turned towards the white dressed Jin, “Clan leader Jin, I have a question for you, you were the person who said if Wen Ning and Wen Qing went to Carp Tower and asked for punishment that this whole fiasco would end. And yet, here I come and you are spreading the ashes of my son and friends across the Nightless City,” as he spoke his voice got louder and louder, breaking from harsh use. Wei Ying paused, hands coming up to grip at his skull, clawing at his hair, “how are those two actions supposed to be just! If anyone here is arrogant it’s you, the next Wen Leader who claws at the weak! The people you have killed are harmless farmers and a child! My son! ” 

“Do you think a son like yours could survive in a sect world like this,” Jin Guangshan sneered, fixing the lapels of his robe, “with a parent like you no less.” 

“Stop,” Lan Wangji tried, trying to stand, but the grief was just too much, “stop this madness, I cannot hear anyone more.” 

Jiang Cheng didn’t know where to stand, it was as if his body was being pulled in two different directions. One that told him to stand with his morals, while another wanted him to protect his own back. His sister was a widow now, because of his older brother and he was just so lost.  

What was there to believe when a world like this existed? One where a child could be killed for its blood and a gentle girl was to lose her husband. That was the day his anger started to control him, filling his body like resentful energy and turning him into a puppet. What was a world so cruel that he had to lose all his family and the same night that Jin Guangyao set Jin Ling in his arms and told him he was the baby’s new father. 

Except he found his body standing up, feeling as all the air brushed past him, sending waves of uncertainty and he closed his eyes to the wind. In that minute he knew that the only thing left for him to do is hope. Jiang Cheng could spend days smashing walls and causing havoc, looking for doors that have never existed. As he stood facing the wind, literally and figuratively ,  he found his mouth going mute with every spitfire insult he was ready to hurl. Jiang Cheng had hope for his brother, but he knew that his hope was an apparition of a false fantasy in his head. 

And in the end he just made him angry . So fucking angry it flourished his body like water given to a dying man, it made him shake, grind his teeth, lash out at the people he loved. He was drowning in anger, letting it consume him until he couldn’t hold it anymore . It was as if his memories were crumbling like statues around him, the beauty that once was his garden of fantasies were becoming no more than just dust and rock . All his anger was focused on the cruel earth, but he also found it had it’s way turning its ugly head towards himself . Jiang Cheng was suffocating under the waves he thought he knew how to jump and the only balm to his wound was his nephew, Jin Ling . 

He loved Jin Ling, he was an example that even when his world was consumed with the molten lava of self hatred, he could turn around and see a new garden of fantasies being created. A young planter in the eyes of a barren land with a smile so bright it flourished the crops better than the sun has ever done. Jiang Waynin’s anger and grief were similar birds of a feather, but his happiness was a whole other being and it was one he secretly kept so tightly locked away from the prying eyes. 

Hope was one thing, yes, but before you could hope, you had to look around at all the things you have and be thankful . Anger may bubble under the surface like a volcano ready to erupt, but it was taking the time to evacuate the city before the lava gushed. Jiang Wanyin was still learning when to evacuate his cities, but he was proud of his work so far .   

___❀___

Seeing Carp Tower for the first time was an overwhelming experience. Sizhui had only been told in theory of the mysterious palace since after the incident involving Jin Ling during his time at the lectures it was pretty firm that he would never step in the area. And yet, here he was, climbing the steps of such a luxurious building with Jin Ling on his left and Jingyi to his right and he had never felt so doubtful of himself in his life. The travel to the tower felt like years, his core was drained so badly he couldn’t even fly on his sword. Jingyi had promised him that he paid no mind, but still it made him feel useless . Of course he never spoke those words, already feeling the sharp gaze of his companions when they had gotten to the top of the steps. 

“Jin Ling!” A voice cried from inside the Glamour Hall, Sizhui’s heart was sinking further in his chest as he took the hood of his cloak and covered his face further. Jin Guangyao was a small man, but what he lacked in height he made up for in his ambitions. He had this type of smile that he wore like a mask, similar to how Mo Xuanyu wore his literal mask to hide himself from ‘ old friends .’ Father had said once that all Jins were like Guangyao, it was why he fit in so nicely when he succeeded in the clan after the Sunshot Campaign, they all had ulterior motives. It made them the best at strategy games and even better at being snakes. 

Following Guangyao was an ethereal being that didn’t deserve to be following the smaller man, he should have been leading him. Zewu-Jun, Sizhui’s uncle, was a tall, slender man who looked very similar to the boy’s own father. The only thing that really set them apart was the older always seemed to hold a placated smile on his face. He was a kindly young man, so much that Sizhui knew people took advantage of his kindly attitude, that one person being the short man that stood beside him. “Jin Ling,” Jin Guangyao gaped, taking Jin Ling’s face in his palm and searching for any bruises, “I was so worried when Jiang Waynin had told me you ran away from him, oh , he’ll be so happy to see you.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jin Ling huffed, feeling like he was being treated like a child so he stepped out of the hands that was squeezing his cheeks. 

There was a flash of hurt in Jin Guangyao's eyes, it was small and barely there, but Sizhui could see just a glimpse of it when Jin Ling wouldn’t stay in his Uncle’s hands. “And who are your friends,” he addressed the two cloaked boys. 

Jingyi was the first to take off his hood, smiling wide as Lan Xichen’s eyes lit up in happiness. “ A-Yi! ” He greeted the younger boy. Xichen was technically Jingyi’s mentor, and had taken the boy under his wing and taught the ways of being a second hand to Jingyi for when the time came that Sizhui succeeded to be Lan Sect hier . He turned to the person in the middle, ready to address his favorite (and only) nephew, but found his hands halting as Sizhui’s face was revealed from the shadow of the cloak. “A-Yuan,” he stuttered, instantly crowding into the boy’s space to lift his chin and inspect every colored bruise. 

At first, Lan Xichen was never truly on the same page as his brother when he had known of his nephew, he hadn’t even seen the boy until the death of Wei Wuxian. He had spent his days comforting his brother over both of their deaths, and it was unreal that he actually got to meet the boy in the first place. He had watched Sizhui grow up, collecting the fallen baby teeth and teaching the boy silly poems to get him laugh. Now, he was staring into the hurt eyes of someone who was usually so happy, it made his heart clenched tightly. “Bobo,” Sizhui whimpered softly like a puppy, leaning into the cold touch. 

“Who did this to you?” Zewu-Jun’s words were forced out of him, hand going towards the hilt of his sword at the thought of someone going out of their way to hurt his precious nephew. 

“I fell,” Sizhui lied immediately, a hand going to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly while Jin Ling and Jingyi stared, “We were nighthunting and the Yao had caught me off guard. I must have fallen down the highest cliff in the world! Right, Jingyi? ” 

The two of them turned to Jingyi who looked horrified at the blunt lie, but the sharp look in Sizhui’s eyes made him stutter out, “ yeah , it was a surprise you weren’t completely knocked out from hitting the ground so hard,” he shot a sharp glare towards the other, before completely soothing his face to a smile when Zewu-Jun had looked his way. 

“Yes,” Zewu-Jun arched a brow at Jingyi that spoke he was going to corner the smaller boy later in the evening, before turning to Sizhui, “come with me Sizhui, we can take a trip to the infirmary before we see your Father.” 

“Father?” Sizhui questioned, feeling his Uncle’s hand press to his lower back to make him start moving. He sent a silent plea to Jin Ling who shrugged helplessly as they were forced to separate, but from the wink Jingyi gave him and followed after Jin Ling, he knew they were going to meet up later to play out the plan. “Why is he here? He never comes to banquets like these.” 

It was true, Father had an uncharacteristic vocal  hatred for conferences. He had said that they made him anxious and when they were both forced to attend, Father spent most of the time staring out the window subtly or ignoring obvious jabs at his personality. Though he was just the kind of person that didn’t think speaking was necessary, some people took his silence of being arrogant, which was never the case. Zewu-Jun laughed at that, moving his arm from Sizhui’s lower back to his shoulders, hugging the smaller to his side as they floated towards the infirmary, “he and…” he paused glancing at Sizhui in a way he couldn’t really decipher, “ Mo Xuanyu had made a breakthrough in their mission of the sword spirit. They wish to investigate a person at Carp Tower.” 

“Investigate?” Sizhui repeated, unsure where his stance could be placed. Since he left the inn when he reunited with Jin Ling he hadn’t thought much about the Sword Spirit that has taken over his Father’s life. In all honesty, he didn’t even want to think about it since it was a subtle jab at his ultimate demise waiting to happen. Jin Ling and Jingyi had created him a type of ‘ bucket list ’ so his death could be fulfilled with no regrets and that meant getting drunk on one cup of wine and crying his eyes out about how happy he was to have such good friends. 

They only made it to the courtyard, before a certain figure appeared from one of the guest houses. Senior Mo looked better than the last time Sizhui had seen him, he even looked a little fatter rather than his bony appearance they met each other in. “Zewu-Jun,” he smiled and then turned to Sizhui, emotionally he was rather done with how all the Seniors were acting to his bruised face. Senior Mo went down to a knee, pressing a hand to Sizhui’s cheek, his palm was warm and being so close there was a light smell of Father’s sandalwood incense and then something a little more floral. “Sizhui,” he whispered, tracing the bone of his cheek, “what happened to you, it looks like someone slammed your face into the floor,” 

He was exactly on the nose that Sizhui wondered if Senior Mo had watched the ordeal and was playing innocent. His smaller hand came up to cover the one holding his cheek, “I fell on a nighthunt last night,” he lied again with a slight smirk, before quickly raising three fingers, “I promise!” 

The look on Mo Xunayu’s face was conflicted, as if Sizhui had punched him in the gut, “ Ah… ” he trailed off, rising from his knee, but still kept his hand on his cheek. It was a soft gesture that he was glad to relish in until the hand was pulled to bow to his Uncle, “only if you promise,” Mo Xuanyu winked precisely towards him, “Lan Zhan and I hope to investigate tonight, this disciple asks for you to trust us.” 

Zewu-Jun did the kind thing he always did when those bowed to deeply to him, and that was by going under their circled arms and gently rising them up, “I am not sure what to expect,” he bit his lip, looking towards Sizhui in almost a hesitancy to speak in front of nephew, “but if you and Wangji truly think what you're looking for is in the Treasure Vault, well then I pray you won’t get caught.” 

“Thank you,” Mo Xuanyu bowed again, swiping out his arms when Zewu-Jun tried to lift them again, “I’ll be on my way,” he cheered, “I heard there’s good food in the banquet hall! Come join us later if you can Sizhui and I won’t tell your Father about your face yet, I’ll leave him to scold you later!” 

He was thankful, even when the older was being his usual sporadic self, “thank you,” he professed, now bowing towards the Senior. When they had parted ways, Sizhui couldn’t help but think about the conversation he had overheard, there was obviously something the two were neglecting to tell him, the question was what or who were they investigating. 

The infirmary was just a short walk away and the nurses there were kindly to him, almost so kind he was afraid they might turn a hand on him the minute he got too comfortable. He had spent a good portion of his month hiding from every cultivator in existence, that the aid he was given was a little uncomfortable. The head nurse gave him some tea that she was quick to tell him about the sleep aid in it rather than letting him think they had drugged him. A good rest was probably a good idea, Sizhui had thought, sipping down the bitter tea and letting the drug take control in his system. For the first time in what felt like years, Sizhui had been able to fall asleep soundlessly.

___❀___

The Past

Wei Ying could feel himself slowly start to wake up, his brain blissfully empty until he felt the sharp pain of a headache begin to make it’s forefront. Wen Qing’s words were as loud as standing right under a firework, what could she had possibly meant about turning herself and Wen Ning in to Carp Tower. Was she so blind to not see that it was basically a suicide mission and she wasn’t going to be leaving those cold, gold towers alive? 

When he tried to sit up, he could feel the tight pull in his lower spine, as if the bones had fused together and were physically keeping him in place. Before she had left, she knew he would have gone after her so she pulled her most devious tricks of pricking him with one of her acupuncture needles. By Gods, of course he would have gone after her! She was family at the end of the day and they should stay together, they needed to stay together . His brain wouldn’t shut up for one second, he felt like he was actually going insane. 

His motivation was failing him, a voice in his head told him that it would be no use to even get up in the first place. Maybe… maybe he could just close his eyes and never wake up again. It would be a slow death, but one better than what he was expecting if he got up in the first place. The Sects would get together, kill his generals and his child, oh Gods his child , no . Wei Ying pushed again, feeling the string in his back pop to fully sit up on the grass bed. His whole body was shaking as if he was under a fever, his lead heavy arm pressed to his forehead and wiped at the sweat that was collected on his brow. 

Pushing himself around, he sat on the edge of the bed to just let his cold, bare feet, rest against the rock floor. He was crying before he could even realize the heat of his cheeks and it made him feel even weaker. What was the use for his own tears, he was the reason his sister’s husband was killed. What kind of messed up person does that! He told his family he was under control, the resentful energy was at bay until Wen Ning had acted so differently. Wei Ying’s hand went to his forehead again, using the heel of his palm to punch repeatedly at his temple, as some kind of sick coping mechanism. The pain in his skull was unbearable, it was like his brain had been injected with a murky liquid and it was slowly taking over his body. 

With hazy eyes he made contact with the cradle pressed to the far wall, Wen Qing, when she was alive , had pressured him into making A-Yuan start to sleep by himself. Since the baby had been born, Wei Ying had always liked the feeling of sleeping with Yuan on top of him, skin to skin, it made him feel like they were sharing the same breath. The doctor in Wen Qing had told him that it was a good time to separate the sleeping arrangements, because A-Yuan could get too attached to him. At his waking moment, Wei Ying cursed himself for listening to her, now his son was permanently separated from him. 

Standing from the bed, he tried to walk towards the cradle, but found his legs giving out from underneath him. His knees knocked painfully against the stone, sending a sharp 'zap! 'of pain up his spine to thrum at the constant throbbing behind his eyes. But he just needed to see the crib, to just get a last glimpse of the place his son used to sleep. To feel the blankets that staved off the cold touch. Feeling the fabric of the stuffed puppet that always was able to get a laugh out of the infant had been cast aside on the floor. So, against all better judgement, he began to crawl. His legs felt lame as he dragged them across the ground until he was just able to grasp the grasped the edge of the straw basket to hoist himself up. 

His own sleep muddled brain was ready for an empty crib, he had watched Wen Qing stuff the baby into her robe, whispering apologies and safety to Wei Ying and his precious son. But what he wasn’t ready for was to see the infant in there.  A-Yuan looked so ethereal, laying with his hands splayed out beside his head. Wei Ying's whole body shook with a sob as he placed his palm over his son’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. 

Wei Ying had a secret theory, one that he had yet to publish in his many journals, but it was one that he felt would sound selfish saying out loud. ‘Nobody was truly ready for motherhood’ , one might read as many books as they can and listen to every advice on the planet, but the minute you are given the bloody, gooey mess of a child everything you learned is thrown out the door. He was never ready...

He never even thought it was possible to have a child either. 

Yanli would gush about tiny babies that they’d see in town, but they had never interested him. It wasn’t until Lan Wangji, his beloved Lan Zhan, had shown the concept of parenthood an open door… opening it by himself to be exact.

A-Yuan had taken the route of being inconspicuous until the first month was over. Wei Ying had recently given up his golden core to his brother, so suffering an illness was almost expected of him. He had this constant migraine and a feeling as if he was going to throw up at any minute, but the action never came. At the time, he was still a part of Yummeng Jiang, so he hid the illness under the guise that he was simply overworking himself, but his brother wasn’t one to be tricked. Wei Ying’s mood had always been testy, since he began cultivating with the Stygian Amulet he had been on edge with everyone, even Lan Zhan, but it was now the little things that were instead of making him angry, they were upsetting him.  

There was a rule that was put in place after the attack on Yummeng that when all the kites had been shot down, all the disciples would go and collect them. Nobody wanted to have what happened to be repeated again, so when Wei Ying was watching the shooters he hadn’t seen a particular slippery disciple who had thought it would be a good idea to go off on his own and pick up the kites. He was so ready to scold, but the minute he had saw the young boy, tears were just dripping off his face. Wei Ying laughed himself silly after the tears had dried up, because the boy was so shell-shocked that he made him cry. It was a better punishment than just a reprimand. Then like the first stone came the avalanche, it became smaller things that made him cry-- good spicy soup, getting a letter from Lan Zhan, hearing his brother’s newest accomplishments --it was like he was a fountain of tears. It had scared Jiang Cheng so badly that the boy had called Jiang Yanli to come and do damage control. 

Though it was never damage control for Yanli, she would take any time to spend time with her brothers, but she was worrying herself silly at Carp Tower. Jin Zixuan had demanded that she go and be with her brothers, then covering his words with a silly wink that he wasn’t actually demanding, but he knew she just needed a firmer push. Naturally, she had been a worrier, A-Cheng and A-Xian were rough boys and tended to really drag out their fights. She was expecting them to be at each other’s throats… not watching A-Xian heave her lotus and pork soup into the nearest potted plant. 

“ Oh? That’s strange…” the nurse in the infirmary hummed, hand hovering over Wei Ying’s clothed stomach. Yanli felt her blood run cold, fingers locked around Jiang Cheng’s bicep as she began losing her vision. Every bad illness she could think of was physically making her weak. They had just got A-Xian back and now they were losing him! “Well, not strange,” the nurse quickly covered, bringing air back into Yanli’s shriveled lungs, “just different… ” 

“Different?” Wei Ying asked, quickly covering his wrist with his sleeve, when the nurse’s fingers pulled away, “I know my golden core is weak, I can explain-”

“Weak?” The nurse cut him off with a laugh, “no no, your core is strong, expected of someone who is currently carrying a child.” 

“Pr-” Was all Wei Ying got out before Jiang Cheng shouted, “ Pregnant?! ” 

The nurse simply laughed, “yes, I’m surprised you were not aware of the spiritual energy… it nearly consumes your own, Wei Wuxian,” when she stepped away, he unconsciously touched his clothed stomach, confused at how such a thing could be inside him... a baby. .? “You must have had a powerful Cultivation Partner, though it isn’t unheard for male cultivators to get pregnant, it is rare.”

“Cultivation Partner,” Jiang Cheng parroted lamely, Wei Ying looked at his brother to see, he looked so pale he could have been a sheet of paper, “ who? ” he turned suddenly to him, “who got you pregnant!?”

Wei Ying blanched, “who do you think I would willingly give my body too, didi ?” 

Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable, he threw his hands in the air as some kind of gesture of ambiguity, turning his gaze away from Wei Ying just long enough to collect his thoughts. “I don’t know what you do when you’re on your own time! It was a rational question! ” 

“A-Cheng…” 

“No Shije , I want him to guess.” Wei Wuxian further pushed his brother and the young clan leader’s patience.

All eyes were on the youngest Jiang as he began to shift back and forth on his foot, “I don’t know!” he flustered easily, his cheeks the color of cherries as he covered his face, “it’s even weirder to image my brother having sex! That’ll burn your eyes out of your sockets!” 

“A-Cheng,” Yanli soothed swiftly, sending her other brother a look for being so naughty to be causing their brother so much stress, “our A-Xian has only had a crush on one man, remember Second Master Lan?” 

“Oh no…” Jiang Cheng cried, now covering his face even further in his hands, “you had sex with Lan Wangji… Lan. Wangji. Tall, has the blankest face in existence, glares at you any chance he gets-” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s glaring!” Wei Ying whined, shuffling along the bed to grasp at his brother’s shaking hands, “he just has a really hard time vocalizing his emotions, he’s a good guy.” 

“Are you sure you got pregnant from him?” Wei Ying sent his brother the iciest look that could rival his beloved, “hey ! I’m just saying! I thought that when the moon hit just right on the Cold Pond, that a bunch of them would spawn, fully grown and ready to recite the rules!” 

Yanli had to laugh at that, quickly covering her mouth with her sleeve when they had turned to her, “don’t laugh with him!” Wei Ying cried, throwing Jiang Cheng’s hands in the air to grasp at his sister’s fingers, “me being pregnant by a Lan shouldn’t even be surprising.” 

“I know, I know,” she pacified, petting the side of his head, “and you’re okay? Everything was consensual... do you want this baby? ” 

Even then, Wei Ying had asked himself if he truly wanted a kid. He was aware of the sudden rise of anger after the Sunshot campaign, even though he was a decorated soldier the minute the Wens were decimated all eyes were on him and not in a good way. Having a baby would be a weakness, he told himself, an easy soft spot that everyone could jab at him, but the thought of killing Lan Zhan’s potential son and therefore heir shook him to the non-existent core. 

He could see tiny fingers, soft golden eyes, the refined nose of a Lan that sloped down like a roof, jet black hair, long eyelashes, snow colored skin, and plump cheeks tinted just the lightest shade of lotus bud pink...

He just couldn’t do it, he couldn’t kill Lan Zhan’s love . 

Now he was here... alone , his son mere inches from his grasp, and yet he felt so unworthy . 

Looking down at the sleeping baby, he couldn’t help the sob that wrenched it’s way from his throat. He thought of all the moments Lan Zhan missed for the sake of Wei Wuxian’s own confidence that he didn't need any extravagances to be Yuan’s mother. Lan Zhan would have argued that skilled doctors, and access to emergency care was not classified as a luxury . He just wanted Wei Wuxian and the baby to be safe… knowing how rare it was, Lan Zhan didn’t rest easy knowing Wei Ying’s life was in danger every moment he wasn't in Cloud Recess. 

It was only now that Wei Wuxian realized his selfishness… he had kept A-Yuan from his father… just to prove a point and it was horrible…

He carefully slid his hand under the baby’s bottom and pulled the soft bundle to his chest. If he were to die, his son was most likely not going to survive, even with Lan Zhan help, but hauling himself to stand so he could lean over the cradle his hands shook as he moved his robe slowly away from his chest just enough. Pressing the baby’s towards his nipple he felt a wash of sadness that collapsed on him. Without thought, he knew that even if he was so terrible at least he could be able to be there and feed his son... right?

Standing there in the quiet he could only hear the sound of his erratic breathing, finally feeling some rest, not to last long as Yuan began to whine. Wei Wuxian had not noticed the pain in his chest until his son made something painfully clear. The baby nuzzled the bones that poked from under his mother’s skin, frustrated as no warm milk filled his stomach. Wei Wuxian froze, his head hung low, anxiety pooling as Yuan’s whines turned into quiet cries...Nothing was coming out, nothing was going to come out even if Wei Wuxian beseeched his body to… His mind couldn’t even begin to process this feeling of what it truly meant to not be able to provide in the most basic form. He was utterly worthless.  

Wen Qing’s voice rang like bells in his head, as he remembered her words in the short hours after his son’s birth. Words she had spoken actually his entire pregnancy, yet ignored for what he thought was a good reason. “Wei Wuxian, you must take care of yourself, if you don’t... you will only make your son suffer ...if you don’t eat, you won’t produce the only thing A-Yuan can survive on…” Wen Qing meant well, and nagged him because she knew he wouldn't listen...She knew that even though A-Yuan was his mother’s entire world, other people lived there as well...people his mother had to care for...So Wei Wuxian still found himself handing food off to the elderly with a slight lie of he already ate. 

Since A-Yuan was born, he never truly felt right without feeling the baby’s core, it was as if he was empty all over again . He was slowly feeling himself fall apart, piece by piece, brick by brick, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

Moving towards the wall, he plastered his back to the rough stone and let himself slowly begin to fall until his butt made hard contact with the floor. A-Yuan had been roughly jostled, sending the baby immediately into wails so loud it pierced the drum of his ears. 

“N-No... Baobei ...shh…it’s alright..” Wei Ying cooed as he pushed the baby back to the food source, but the bundle simply refused, throwing tiny fists and howled upon the heavens. He felt like the most terrible parent, he couldn’t even feed his son, nor could he even soothe him-!

'Plap… plap… plap…’

Looking on the floor towards the sound, Wei Ying noticed a liquid pooling on the floor. At first he wasn’t sure what it was, most of the leaks in the old cave only happened when it rained, so when he touched the watery liquid with his fingers and brought them towards the light of the entrance, seeing that metallic and reflective red coated his nails... he could feel an icy tundra making its way in his stomach. Confused he began searching up his arm and body, he couldn’t feel any source of pain in himself, and then like a slap to the face, with eyes wide, he turned to the still crying A-Yuan. 

Moving away the swaddle there was a small ‘ pink!’ as a thin metal needle clattered sweetly to the ground. His heart was in his throat as he noticed a thin cut on his son’s arm and with horrific realization in his eyes, his fingers felt up his shoulder to where Wen Qing’s acupuncture needle was supposed to be lodged. Only he had come up with a beading of blood. Instantly he cursed himself for so carelessly sitting down that he must have jostled the needle and it fell on A-Yuan. The baby’s soft newborn skin now marred permanently.

With coos of soft words, Wei Ying bundled the blanket between his fingers and over the wound trying his best to sooth the boy in soft language. He bounced the little package wrapped in layers of brown and black wool close to his face and lips, rubbing A-Yuan stomach to no avail. 

“ Xingan...my precious...i’m so sorry...please forgive me. ” Wei Ying whispered, his words shaking and catching over his uneasy breath. Hot tears began filling his eyes and dropped like rain on his son, Wei Ying’s whole body began to shake. He would bite his lip to try and keep his strength with little success. 

He was never supposed to be a mother, much less in charge of an infant...His head fell back against the rock and more than anything as he stared at the small breaks of light in the ceiling of the cave, gazing at the passing clouds, did he want Lan Zhan . At this very moment, Wei Wuxian regretted his choices...maybe he could have been a mother, but certainly in a different life, where he could fully provide for his child. Then to consider this situation in any different life, would be to consider it without his beloved and that was too horrific to imagine. He should have stayed in Cloud Recess... why did he leave?! 

He stood on shaking legs and rattling knees still holding his son walking back and forth trying to cease the crying. He ended up closing his eyes, behind his eyelids seeing the inside of the Jingshi, a dark cherry wood crib draped in light blue linen with white sheets...it was next to the large sliding doors that overlooked the pond, where cranes made their nests… As he paced back and forth he could feel the rush of the wind from the weeping willows that hung low all around the courtyard against his skin... The sound of Guqin filled his ears, simple yet carefully chosen notes that could lull his son to sleep. A sweet smell of mudan flowers carried over the crisp air. 

Opening his eyes...there was nothing but rock. Cold rock, unfertile soil..a straw basket that scarcely passed off for a cradle, and torn wool fabrics that were an ocean over his sickly body. His son, with his long eyelashes...jet black hair, blushed, plump cheeks and golden eyes, whimpering with no control over to change his situation. He just had to exist and Wei Ying stopped dead in his tracks...pulling his gaze away, his face tear stained and focused on the dusk of the light from the cave. Ill with overwhelming emotion, Wei Ying finally stopped...He could still give his son the world...only on the condition that he was to remove himself from it.

Only then could this baby...this bundle that was the most tangible evidence of love.. .His son needed to have a fighting chance so he could survive.  

Without thinking, Wei Ying stepped forward, quickly depositing the baby back in the straw basket. Yuan settled with wide blood-shot eyes kicking his loose blankets away. The young mother began stepping backwards until the back of his knee hit the straw of his own bed. Unconsciously he was rubbing his fingers together spreading what was a few drops of blood all over his palms. As Wei Ying looked down at his hands, he panicked seeing how much damage he actually caused his son, he scrubbed at his hands on his hanfu, feeling himself hyperventilate. The air was grotesquely thin, and gripping at his hanfu barely grounded him. He could still hear A-Yuan sobbing in the cradle, the baby was more scared by his own cries than he was in actual pain. However, to Wei Ying, who in his current state of mind couldn't tell the difference. 

At the moment he made the hardest decision of his life.. .he was going to leave his son ...only hoping that it would ensure his safety. 

Finally losing his battle, Wei Ying crumbled to his knees a mess of tears and uneasy breath. Crawling  back to the basket, his fingers clutched onto his son’s blankets as he pressed his hot forehead to the cool straw trying to catch his breathing.

'Breathe...breathe...control...control..find it!’

He was fighting a losing battle, the more he thought of leaving, the harder it was to catch his choking breaths. 

He thought of A-Yuan growing up...As he watched his anguished son with cloudy vision, he saw him crawling round the Jingshi, he saw him taking his first steps in the bunny field...he could hear his laughter at the sight of snow...He could see Lan Zhan rocking him to sleep and he wanted more than anything to watch it actually occur, rather than be his delusions of grandeur. 

He carelessly got his son hurt and what was to say his actions wouldn’t kill the boy just like he had done to Jin Zixuan! He couldn’t promise Lan Zhan would find Yuan...he couldn’t promise that the pain would end soon...He was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode and cause collateral damage to everyone he had ever loved. Wei Ying felt determination to save his son, and if either one of them had to die, he was going to make sure it was him. He was going to make a sacrifice that only a mother could. 

As his last moments with his son drew to a close, he buried his hand in his breast pocket, his grip closing around the cold metal of the engraved headband he always kept close to him. 

Though it was supposed to be a present from The Great Hanguang-Jun to his only son, he recalled Lan Zhan’s face as the man’s cool golden eyes had subtly tried to tell him that the gift wasn’t for their son. 

It was a proposal. Wei Ying had known that, but he pretended to be dumb and not know the rules and customs of Cloud Recess like he hadn’t copied them for years. Receiving the headband in a small wooden painted crane box, Lan Zhan allowed the man to play dumb… Wei Wuxian had taken the headband from its box and pressed it tightly to his chest. 

His heart felt like it was shattering like a vase, shards puncturing his lungs and stomach...his fingers  draped the cloud blue ribbon over his son’s head and tied it thickly at the back of his skull. It didn’t last long, Wei Ying finally knew why baby’s weren’t given headbands until they were older, because the ribbon just fell from the boy’s forehead to around his neck. 

It made him want to cry even harder as he sniffled pitily, his son was just a baby... hanging his head over the broken and aged yellow straw basket, letting his tears drip off his face like rain running off cool summer leaves. 

He knew he needed to step away from the make-shift cradle...  Wei Ying remembered how frustrated Lan Zhan was when he came to visit and saw the sleeping arrangement of his son. Lan Zhan had even offered to send a real wooden crib, but of course Wei Ying declined and used the basket that was once for collecting turnips in the Burial Mound garden. His careful eye had seen how perfect sized it was for his ever so small baby son. He didn't expect A-Yuan to be premature, but it only made the basket more perfect for little boy. Howver Wei Ying found his feet glued to the floor, his whole body was shaking, hands vibrating at his waist as he picked his left foot up and gently pressed it to the floor. The first steps were always the hardest, his lip was quivering as his hands came up to try and muffle the strangled sob that was escaping his lips. For every step he felt as if someone had punched him the gut, each one clipping him in the lungs and forcing each painful breath. He couldn’t do it, but it wasn’t the act of could, he had to do it. 

So when his anguished heart brought him back to the basket on his knees, he looked back down at A-Yuan’s innocent face and found another tsunami of emotions crushing him. Yuan had quieted himself into a lulled state...by the time Wei Ying’s shaking fingers had finished brushing the dimple of his cheek, Yuan slept.

“A-Yuan... Wǒ de ài ...While I know I have no right to ask you of anything… my love …Please, remember me, for how much I love you, not by what I didn’t do for you.” Wei Wuxian whispered, leaning to kiss the baby’s forehead, tears escaping. 

Scared people will always pick a scapegoat, it was a fact of society. So the only way to get rid of a scapegoat was to give the scared people a new one. Knowing this better than anyone, he again stood and began walking backwards, feeling each shake of his shoulder. Every what if was screaming in his head. 

He only got to the threshold of the entrance before he could no longer hold all the emotions that were being held back. His knees gave out from underneath him, the ground biting into the flesh as he had to feebly crawl his way outside. He was sobbing so loudly his lungs began burning, feeling as if a fire that could never be quenched began it’s assault on his vital organs. 

Feeling as if his whole being was rejecting him. His own weakened body knew what he was doing...and made him pay for it. On his hands and knees he began to dry heave. 

If his fate claimed him for death in the coming hours, at least he knew that the next time he saw his son it would be in the warmth and peace of eternal sleep. 

___❀___

The next time Sizhui had awoke, the pale blue sky had turned into the inky swirls of nighttime. He wasn’t sure what woke him up, until there another yell from outside the building. Slowly, he sat up, gripping the frame of the bed as he went, careful not to upset his foggy brain still drunk on sleep. Donning his shoes, he made headway outside, watching as another large group of Jin disciples went running in the direction of the main house, so much to his better judgement he had followed the crowds. 

As he walked he could feel the cold night breeze blow against his back, cursing himself for leaving his cloak in the infirmary. With the breeze he couldn’t help but feeling a shiver wrack his entire body, wrapping his arms around himself as he rounded the corner to the hall. It seemed everyone was awake at such a late time, Father and Zewu-Jun were doing their special brother thing where they just stare at each other and try to communicate telepathy, which by the way , never worked. Senior Mo was floating a little warily next to Jin Guangyao, even Jin Ling looked a little startled by the whole ordeal playing out right in front of him. 

When he stepped forward into the crowd of disciples, he wasn’t expecting for every blade to turn his way. “Sizhui!” Jin Ling cried, eagerly descending the steps to head to his cousin, sending a narrowed look to every disciple that still had their blade unsheathed, “where have you been! The plan ,” he whispered quietly, ushering him towards the steps. 

Sizhui tried to avoid Father’s look, he knew it was heartbroken from the state of his face, “I was in the infirmary,” he told the other with the tilt of his head, “they treated my wounds and gave me some sleep aid,” there was so many people here it was starting to make him nervous, “Jin Ling? What’s going on? Where is Jingyi?” 

“It wasn’t my turn to watch him,” Jin Ling chastised quickly, but when he got the look of disappointment from Sizhui he straightened up his shoulders, tipping his head upwards to appear taller, “probably in his room, haven’t you noticed already that he sleeps like the dead, we’ll probably not see him till morning! I, on the other hand, was going to my room and then--” his words slowly seemed to fall underwater as Sizhui made eye contact with the one man he had wished to never see again. 

Su She was just how he remembered, he was a plain looking man with no features that stuck out as interesting, but the sneer permanently etched on his face was enough to make his own stomach churn with uncertainty. Across the man’s high cheekbones was a raised scar from when his Father had struck the other with Bichen, a constant reminder that the man had done something so cruel to a child. Su She had said something biting, Sizhui could tell from the look on his Father’s face that he’d rather be anywhere else than in this arrogant man’s presence.

“ By all means, ” Jin Guangyao said loud enough to Senior Mo that it got everyone else’s presence, “let me escort you inside the Treasure Vault.”

The Treasure Vault. Sizhui made eye contact with Jin Ling, both of them already knowing what to do. So they followed the Seniors inside the mirror, the magic bursting through his body as they passed through the ward on the mirror and into a small, yet roomy second building. Sizhui wasn’t sure where the magic mirror had transported them, but with no windows or sharp breeze he found it felt a little like a cage. The Treasure Vault was large enough that all the items didn’t seem to be cluttered, but it still felt like there were a vast amount of items inside. Large shelves housed different colored pots and sparkling knives, to a regular person it was like a museum. Qin Su was already in the room, staring off to the side with no movement, Sizhui could only tell that the woman was living was by watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest. 

“Why is Madam Jin here?” Zewu-Jun’s voice was calmed as he settled beside Jin Guangyao, looking a little confused that she could have been in there in the first place. 

“All of our possessions are shared,” Jin Guangyao tone was as if he was reminding a younger disciple that they forgot a stroke on a talisman, “A-Su often comes in here to admire things as well. Anyways , everyone welcome to my small treasure vault, please help yourself,” his eyes were like poisonous darts at Senior Mo. 

Sizhui hung to the back of the wall as he began slowly pushing away from the group. Su She was quick to start bickering with Senior Mo about his apparent crush on Qin Su, but he decided not to comment on the growing relationship that the Senior had going on with his Father. He was more busy searching the different shelves for a familiar sword, reaching in his robe, he pulled out the drawing of the thin sword that Jin Ling had drawn for him in the inn. In front of him were many swords, but none of them matched what he was seeing so he assumed the sword had been moved instead of being on display, or more probable that Suiban was hidden. 

He thought he was being sneaky, he was naturally a silent kid, but when he made it to the far corner he felt a pair of eyes burn into his back. “Hanguang Jun…” The voice was quiet, yet drawn out and sly. Jin Guangyao’s eyes became gentle and pointed in a gaze towards Lan Zhan, an uncomfortable ache radiated in Sizhui’s arms. “You never told your son, of the gift you gave me…?” 

‘Gifts.? ’ Sizhui thought to himself...what else but his mother’s sword was here…? The room remained silent, only a Lan’s trained ears would pick up on the lapse of breath that left Zewu Jun’s mouth. 

“A-Yao...This is not the time.” Lan Xichen pressed. Jin Guangyao turned his attention back to all his other guests, and rested a hand on the knuckles of his wife, as a soft ‘ hmm ’ left his lips. The following conversations were muddled along pleasantries. Hastily, Sizhui took the opportunity and pulled out of the line of sight to press his body to the back of a shelf knowing he had to start moving quickly if Guangyao was starting to get suspicious. Jin Ling was trying to pay attention to the Seniors who were eager to pick and sneer at each other, but Sizhui also knew he was getting ready to cover him if the conversation went towards the boy currently rummaging around. 

Carefully, the Lan heir moved one of the black curtains that covered a rather large shelf. His eyes widened at the sight of the sword, almost in shock that he was able to see it in person. Looking at the drawing and back to the real thing, he reached out with a shaky hand and closed around the hilt. Looking towards the seniors he saw Jin Guangyao was distracted with a small dagger, waving the blade around as he talked about its origin. Jin Ling was the only one looking at him, his eyes huge as he gestured with his hand for Sizhui to hurry up. 

Picking up the pace, he plucked the sword from it’s display and slid it in the belt right next to his unnamed sword. Suiban felt like it was thrumming with power, an unknown energy was sparking in the room and it was creating butterflies in Sizhui’s stomach.

That should have been it, Sizhui came to get the sword, he got it and he should have left then. But it was the low shelf next to the sword display that pulled his attention. Sizhui picked up a leather-bound book, opening the first page he was met with the messy scrawl of his Mother’s name, written in black ink. He was starting to get greedy and he knew that as he tucked the book under his arm and picked up the next item. It was a pentagon shaped jewelry box, the outside decorated with a light brown lacquer and engravings of a beautiful white crane. It was not the first time Sizhui saw that crane...that box had to have been a gift from his father… that same crane was everywhere that he could think of in his childhood. One that stuck out to him was seeing a very similar box in Father’s room that held his hair ornaments.

Inside the box was a few different items, one that stuck out to him first was a glossy brown hair comb. One of the bristles was missing, showing the fragile age of the object, but the beautiful lotus design engraved on the top spoke of its excellent craftsmanship. The next item was a silver guan, a thin piece of metal or wood that would curve around the bun of a person with one shell gem at the base. It wasn’t until he made contact with a red tassel combined lotus engraved jade at the top that he was able to deduce this was his Mother’s jewelry box. The crane was a sign of being of the Lan gentry family. There was only a select few in Cloud Recess that could own items with cranes on them. 

A question hung in the air of why Jin Guangyao would have such a piece in his collection, it wasn’t that any of the items inside the box was dangerous per say, or the box itself... they were just hair pieces.

Growing up there had been a chest in the back of the Jingshi that even though never had a lock on it, he knew never to touch the wood. Father had never said outrightly that Sizhui was denied access to the items, but there was a slight unspoken word of never touching Mother’s things. There were a few fragile items like a drawing of his Father in his younger days, reading what looked to be a poem with an intricate flower resting in his hair. Other items included old robes, another hair comb like the one in the jewelry box, and even a pressed flower that Father would later release from the box to become a bookmark. 

Before he could question it anymore there was a symphony of gasps that pulled him from his thoughts, peaking through the gap of the shelf he saw Qin Su was swaying like a fragile leaf in the wind. In her chest was the hilt of the small dagger that Guangyao had been so distracted by, an uneasy stone settled in his stomach. In his life he had seen a lot of violence, it was a thing he grew up into, but to watch such an act playout made his heart feel heavier than any kind of grief. Placing the box on top of the book, Sizhui returned to hide in the group, pulling on Jin Ling’s arm that he got all the items he needed, but the boy was frozen in place. 

“A-Su!” Jin Guangyao sobbed, cradling the young woman to his chest. His hand seemed to flutter around the knife, unsure if he wanted to pull it out or hold it in to put pressure on the wound. Zewu-Jun stepped up to the platform, kneeling beside Qin Su to place his fingers over her pulse. There was a dangerous pause in the room, one that had Sizhui gripping tightly to the manuscript in his hand when his Bobo slowly shook his head. 

“A-Yao,” he gently put a hand on the man’s quivering arm, “I’m sorry.”

Sizhui tried to pull on Jin Ling’s arm again, feeling a certain type of fear begin to rise and ring in his ears. Jin Guangyao let out a sob, winding his arm around his wife’s head and situated her in the crook of his neck, “ Er-ge, ” he whined, successfully getting Zewu-Jun’s undivided attention, “what is going on? Why would A-Su suddenly take her own life,” he paused, eyes now searching the whole room frantically, “why would you gather in front of the Fragrance Hall and demanded for me to open my treasure vault?” Those eyes were too keen, sharp as a knife back at his sworn brother, “is there anything you haven’t told me?” 

As the words left his lip, the mirror made a thrumming sound as two other bodies came through. Sizhui thought the room was already crammed with people he wasn’t too fond of seeing, but to add on Uncle Jiang appeared from around the corner, grasping the hilt of Sandu. Peeking around the side of Uncle Jiang’s board shoulder appeared Nie Huaisang, someone that Sizhui wasn’t very acquainted with to make any kind of unjust accusations. He was a frail appearing man with glossy brown hair, but like Jin Guangyao he had keen eyes, one that always seemed to be working on something in his head before he was a mess of tears and pleas. 

“What is going on!” Uncle Jiang snapped, thrusting Sandu back fully in her holster. The clang of the sword caused a flinch out of Jin Ling who just shifted from foot to foot, as if he was finding an exit to run towards. Without causing too much movement, Sizhui moved the book and jewelry box from under his arm to behind his back. Uncle Jiang crossed the threshold of the room, brashly looking towards Qin Su’s cooling body and then with the malice of a thousand suns, he turned to Mo Xuanyu as if the man was the one who killed her himself. 

Zewu-Jun reached out his hand and closed it around Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, giving him a cautious look for him to back off, but the small man just threw the hand off to turn and demanded answers with his eyes. Lan Xichen closed his eyes, schooling his expression as he began to speak, “some time ago, we sent our newer disciples on their first independent nighthunt to what we thought to be a spirit cleansing. However they were met with a different spirit, one in the form of a blade. It’s resentful energy and killing intent were so astronomical that we as Lan Seniors dared not to neglect it and we rushed it back to Gusu,” carefully, he turned to Lan Wangji who’s jaw clenched, “Wangji had been investigating it and it led him to a place called Coffin Town where the blade spirit’s owner was found. The body had no head so we were not able to recognize the identity, but the spirit became a visible shape of-” Lan Xichen hand clenched tightly on the fabric of his hanfu, “Baxia.”   

Baxia? Sizhui could tell the room had dropped in temperature, he could feel the ice begin to climb up the spider webs of veins of his body. “Baxia?” Jin Guangyao repeated what Sizhui had said in his head, he blanched before laughing cruelly, “ Baxia. You're telling me Wangji found the corpse of Nie Mingjue… how could that be possible! It’s been so many years since his death, his corpse should have been unrecognizable in decomposition!” He brought Qin Su closer to his body, his laugh turning into a full blown sob.

The only person moving through the ice filled room was Nie Huaisang. He took two steps forward, before stopping and taking one back, before he continued on as if he was in a trance. At Lan Xichen’s side, he grasped the man’s closed fist, “Brother?” he asked, Sizhui was unsure if he was calling his uncle brother or physically talking about his deceased brother, “the one you’re referring to is my elder brother and also your sworn ally,” he swallowed audibly, “right?”  

Lan Xichen turned slowly, finally unclenching his jaw. After Nie Mingjue’s qi deviation that led him to his final hours, Lan Xichen had dropped everything to help Huaisang with anything he had needed. It was his bleeding heart that wouldn’t allow the younger man to drown in his sudden rise to power in the Nie Sect. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, Mingjue had yet to marry and create a heir of his own so through lineage it was forced upon Huaisang who was not ready, and still wasn’t ready for all the responsibility. “ A-Sang ,” Lan Xichen was soft, but firm, as he unclenched his hand to grasp at the boy he thought of as a younger brother, “I-” instead of an answer, he just nodded his head. 

Nie Huaisang’s eyes rolled back in his head, collapsing in Lan Xichen’s arms heavily. The older man fell to his knee, holding the Sect Leader by his shoulders. “Dismembering a body and taking the head away from the corpse…” Jin Guangyao seemed to be sneering to himself, but he was loud enough that everyone could watch his thought process, “who in this world could have done such a heinous act? ” he sputtered, with a loss for words. 

“We don’t know,” Lan Xichen gently passed off the body of the Nie Sect Leader to Jiang Cheng who looked a little peeved that he was being forced to do ‘dead-body-babysitting’ duty. He roughly grabbed Huaisang by the jaw in one hand and slapped him with the other hand, Lan Xichen sent the man an exasperated expression, “when we started to search for the head, our clues started to dry up.” 

“The clues disappeared?” Jin Guangyao repeated, thus showing he was actually following along to what his second brother was saying, “so… did you come to search my place?” he asked, pointing a shaky finger to himself as if the idea had broken his heart, “you wanted me to open my treasure vault, because you were suspecting that Nie Mingjue’s head was in here?” His voice was getting higher and higher as did his anger, letting out an annoyed sigh he deposited Qin Su on the chair, making sure her head didn’t roll too far from her shoulders. Now at full height, the man fixed his out of place collar in a tight, closed off action, “Let’s drop the matter,” he snarled, sounding like he was definitely not ready to drop the matter, “one thing I’m confused on is how you,” he directed to Lan Xichen, “and Hanguang-Jun knew about this treasure vault inside of my bedchamber, as well as how did you make sure my good friend Nie Mingjue head was at my place…” he trailed off, watching with an advantageous smile as his sworn brother gaze snapped to Senior Mo, “Ah… A-Yu, was it you the one who told Clan Leader Lan and these people about this room? What is the use of making up such flimsy lies?” 

Even if half of his face was covered, Sizhui could tell that the color in Mo Xuanyu’s face was draining in fear. Jin Guangyao took a step in the boy’s direction and Mo Xuanyu took one step back, squaring his shoulders with a clenched jaw as he put up his guard. “Mo Xuanyu…” Su She butted into the conversation, making his way to successfully corner the once Jin disciple between the shelf and Sizhui, “back then, because of your indecent harassment towards Mrs. Jin you were kicked from the Jin Clan. Yet, speaking from hearsay nowadays, you somehow earned the favor of the righteous Hanguang-Jun and his bastard son,” if Sizhui had animal ears, they would be plastered to his skull as he felt his Father hold out a hand to shield him from the painful insult his past abuser sneered at them, “people say wherever he went you were close by, so why is that a righteous person keep such a notorious person by his side, it’s difficult to understand,” the man’s eyebrow raised, lifting up the ugly scar across his cheek. 

Jin Guangyao lifted a hand, stopping Su She for any further assault he was readying. Glaring venomously, the man did back off slightly, “I won’t bring up anything from the past, but please explain in all honesty regarding the unknown reason of A-Su’s suicide…” he trailed off, fingers dancing down his abdomen to grip the curved blade hidden in his hanfu, “are you involved in this incident?” 

Sizhui felt the air in the room was growing too dangerous, something was going unsaid at the way that his Father’s reasons for knowing where this room was. Mo Xuanyu made a jolted move towards the mirror, as if he was ready to bolt, making Su She unsheathe his sword, swiping upwards that Mo Xuanyu waltzed out of the way. Only a small strand of hair was sliced in the action before Su She’s sword thrusted down only to be parried by Lan Wangji. “Hands off or I’ll give you a matching scar, ” Father’s words were feral, a deep growl in the back of his throat as Bichen pushed forcibly at the other sword. 

“You’re the one who should keep their hands off, Hanguang-Jun,” Su She hissed. 

Sizhui was ready for an all out fight to go on, tucking himself into the space of Mo Xuanyu’s body that was warm and safe. He could feel Mo Xuanyu's soft hand reach out to grab his wrist, not in a way that was urgent or desperate like he had imagined the touch of a guilty man to be, but it was tender and grounding.  Even now, as they stood in a room full of accusers with their swords pointed at the vital flesh of their necks. So long as Mo Xuanyu’s grip remained, Sizhui felt oddly safe…a feeling he only ever remembered from his father. Mo Xuanyu’s other hand lifted gently to squeeze Father’s bicep tightly, “ Lan Zhan, ” he whispered, tone placating the growing tension, “it’s okay… step aside.” It was then that Sizhui watched as his unbreakable and powerful father wilted at these words, his gaze still affirmed, but his sword no longer raised. 

Instead of fighting, Mo Xuanyu and Father just stared at each other, no words audible, but Sizhui could practically hear the wordless conversation going on between them. Maybe, between Bobo and Father telepathy wasn’t possible, but Senior Mo had cracked the cultivation code. Though Bichen gave away, Su She acted like he was also following the line of giving up…  For a moment the tension melted away only to immediately return. Su She surged forward where an opening had been made, Sizhui felt a hand grasp his upper arm… instantly ripping him away from Mo Xuanyu’s warm embrace, and he was being pulled into the cold arrogance of Su She’s chest with accompaniments of the sharp pinch of Nanping pressed into his trachea. The manuscript and jewelry box clattered noisily to the ground, in Sizhui's mind almost in slow motion. He felt tears pooling in his eyes as pages began flying up and the hair accessories scattered against the sleek floor. He felt what only he could describe as grief seeing the last pieces of his mother at the dirtied boots of Su She. “Baba!” He called in a wretched gasp, before the sword pushed deeper into his neck gagging his next words. 

“Look at that…” Su She practically sang taunting the young boy in his hold, kicking the box containing his mother’s jewelry across the floor,  Sizhui’s tears became uncontrollable as they finally broke the barriers of his crows feet, as he saw the beautiful box crack, splinters flying in every direction, he felt as if he was nothing more than a failure. “A rat..a cockroach under my boot! Nothing more than a street thief in fine linen... just like his mother.” 

“Sect Leader Su!” Lan Xichen unsheathed Shuoyue to point at the Moling Sect Leader’s figure, towering over the smaller man to create a threatening shadow that spoke more words than he could ever put to tongue in the sake of not losing face. Two voices melded together the same, “Let. Him. Go.” Lan Xichen’s was trying to stay passive so he wouldn’t egg Su She further on in such a precarious situation, while his little brother looked ready to set fire to the entire Carp Tower at the sight of his son crying out for him in such a distressing manner, “now.” Lan Xichen tried to soothe Wangji with a hand, sending a terrified look to Wei Ying who seemed to be frozen in place, hands raised in the air from the moment when Sizhui was taken from his grasp, “Lan Sizhui is of my blood, if harm was to come to him-” he didn’t finish, he let the tense air speak for itself.

“What’s the harm of getting rid of the worm that eats our precious apple, huh? ,” he snapped, tightening his hold so tightly on Sizhui that he squeaked in pain, more blood dripping down his neck, staining the young boy’s collar. “let him invade on our settled paths, while he steals every one of his mother’s possessions,” Su She was so close to him, he could smell his sour breath, “they are in here for a reason, Lan Sizhui… they are to keep you from learning more evil than you already possess in your blood. ” 

Father hadn’t said anything, but out of the corner of Sizhui’s eye he could see he was shaking, Bichen was so tightly grasped in his fist that his knuckles were white. “Let him go,” Mo Xuanyu snarled , holding Father back with mere fingertips as he himself looked ready to jump forward. Sizhui was glad that someone was watching Father, yet he knew that both of them were uncontrollable, “it’s me you want, don’t hurt the boy. ” 

“You aren’t really in the position to be making decisions, Mo Xuanyu,” Su She laughed, pulling back Nanping like it was a bow on an erhu . Sizhui squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the sharp pain of being sliced by a blade, yet it never came. The weight of Suiban on his side, became surprisingly light as the room filled with gasps and the ‘ shink!’ of a blade being drawn. His body was dropped like a dead weight to the teal and gold tile. Breathing heavily over his shaking shoulders, Sizhui grasped at his neck laying in a heap on the ground. The small cut that was administered when he was first grabbed held not much more damage than a flesh wound. His hand went towards Suiban and found that he was just holding the scabbard of the blade and when he slowly lifted his head he found the thin blade was in Mo Xuanyu’s hand pointed directly at Su She’s neck. 

If the room wasn’t already chaotic, it just got worse. Every blade currently sheathed was out and pointed at Mo Xuanyu. “It’s the Yiling Patriarch!” Jin Guangyao yelped, Sizhui had thought the old title was being directed towards him, but realization hit him even harder when he noticed they were calling Mo Xuanyu that. Even if Senior Mo could cultivate demonic energy, Sizhui was sure that was a stretch. Just because Mo Xuanyu had pulled Suiban it would be no different than if he unsheathed Bichen, that didn’t mean that he was Hanguang-Jun. “ You are the Yiling Patriarch !” Jin Guangyao repeated more menacingly. 

Mo Xuanyu looked down at Suiban, The sound of another sword being revealed, Sizhui felt his heart drop as Jin Ling pointed Suihua at him rather than Mo Xuanyu, “you-” he stuttered, the blade rattling in his palm, “you knew who he was! You played me to tell you where Suiban was! You tricked me! ” 

“Jin Ling…!” Sizhui gaped, still slowly trying to take in the scene. He tried to stand on his own accord to defend himself to his cousin, yet hands grasped under his armpits before he could get footing. A familiar smell of sandalwood filled his nose and he knew he was being picked up and pressed into Father’s chest, “w-what-? ” He felt his father’s arm squeeze tight his shoulders and Sizhui was grateful as he felt his knees wobbling. 

“A-Ling!” Jin Guangyao cried, “get over here!” Sizhui watched as Jin Ling never broke away from his gaze as he moved towards his uncle, Suihua still pointed towards his chest as Jin Ling fled to the safety of his elders. Everything was moving so fast for Sizhui, he couldn’t even comprehend what was going on or which side he was forced to be on. 

Though, what he did know was that Mo Xuanyu, his father and himself  were in danger. “Everyone be careful,” with a narrowed gaze, Guangyao went on to say as he reached out and touched Jin Ling’s shoulder pulling him closer both physically...and emotionally. Like a snake wrapping its long tail round it’s prey to pull it close, Jin Guangyao’s hand on his nephew’s shoulder curled into the fabric, “since he pulled his sword out he most definitely is the Yiling Patriarch.” Finally striking, the chief cultivator, tilted his chin up, more than satisfied that his words instantly turned an entire room’s loyalty to him. 

How were they so sure, why did everyone believe this man! 

“Ah…” Surprisingly, Nie Huaisang sat up in Jiang Cheng’s arm, his hands clasped around the man’s bicep so he wouldn’t fall backwards, “isn’t it that whoever pulled the sword must be the Yiling Patriarch? Jin Guangyao, Hanguang-Jun, Lan Sizhui, is there a misunderstanding between you all?” 

“No misunderstanding at all!” Jin Guangyao didn’t even turn around to yell at Nie Huaisang, too much to his character, he lifted his hands and shook his head back and forth as if he was surprised the anger was sent right back to him, “He’s Wei Wuxian for sure! The simplest way to prove it is to ask him to remove his mask!” Sizhui remembered during the time Mo Xuanyu had spent in the Cloud Recess, he had told him that the mask was to hide from old friends, at the time he wasn’t really sure what the other meant, but it was probably put into play now. 

“Wait!” Sizhui found himself saying, nearly stepping out of his fathers hold onto his own feet, yet still wobbling. He put on a front of confidence with all the unwanted and vicious stares thrown his way, the elders' reaction did not matter, he didn't care, his mind was that of an unsolved puzzle with missing pieces. His mother was dead, had been dead for years , and just because Mo Xuanyu had pulled Suiban didn’t give anyone the right to point fingers of mistaken identity. His mother’s honor did not deserve that...even if  ¾ of the people in the room couldn't see his mother’s honor, Sizhui wouldn’t let what he knew to be true, so easily stepped on. Now, Mo Xuanyu was a good friend of his father, someone even Sizhui had opened himself up to again since the death of his Mother, and Sizhui couldn’t...no wouldn’t , stand idly by as another man was killed in the namesake of Wei Ying. “ Jiujiu! ” he directed towards Uncle Jiang who clenched his jaw so tightly he could see the familiar vein protruding from his neck, “didn’t you hit him with Zidian back at Dafan Mountain?” he was grasping at straws, “nothing had happened to Mo Xuanyu! Aren’t those possessing other’s bodies would show themselves after being whipped by your spiritual weapon!” Sizhui words were starting to die in his throat as he made eye contact with the narrowed gaze of Jin Guangyao, “so there is a chance he could not be Wei Wuxian, right?” 

The only thing that Jin Guangyao had gotten from his speech was the location, because he muttered under his breath, “Dafan Mountain,” lightening his gaze for a second, “that’s right, Sizhui you have just reminded me that I’ve also remembered what happened at Dafan Mountain, wasn’t this man here the same man that summoned the Ghost General as well?!” 

Mo Xuanyu flinched visibly, Sizhui was breaking out in a cold sweat from the fear radiating down his spine. It was supposed to be him to be blamed for these actions, he was the one to see the Ghost General and watch as everyone scattered away from him and Mo Xuanyu. Father gripped his shoulder to pull him away from the fuming Jin Guangyao, giving him a look to shut up. Sizhui did as such, clamping his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. “You people might not know this,” like an actor in the spotlight, Jin Guangyao easily began a predatory walk around the cornered family, “but when Mo Xuanyu was still a disciple here at Lanling, he had seen that copy of the Yiling Patriarch's manuscript,” the discarded book that Sizhui had dropped was picked up from the ground, the heavy bound manuscript dangled from the man’s nimble fingers, “inside this book is every evil trick he cultivated and one of them is called ‘ Sacrifice Summon, ’ that when done the caster gives up their spiritual cognition to save someone seriously injured…” he paused, dropping the book back to the floor, Sizhui’s heart bleeding at the sight of his Mother’s writing casted aside so carelessly, “sure, Lan Sizhui, your Jiujiu had struck Mo Xuanyu from Zidian, but with such an evil trick he wouldn’t of found out even after a hundred lashes!” to twist the knife in Sizhui’s already broken heart, the older man kicked the book, watching as tucked papers never attached to the binding broke free, “but what you didn’t know is that after the death of your malicious mother at the Nightless city, Suiban was collected by the Jin Clan of Lanling and later on the sword had sealed itself. I don’t believe I have to explain to you how a sword seals itself, they surely have taught you that at Cloud Recess.” 

“Jin Guangyao,” Lan Xichen warned, “we can talk about this, let’s not get too hasty.”

“Oh really, Zewu-Jun… “ Jin Guangyao trailed off lightly, “You’d really let the one person who had hurt your brother so fiercely stand here before us again and to what he had done to Jin Ling’s parents,” he paused, letting his words sink in. Sizhui's vision was blurring as he could see the line hook and sink right into Jin Ling’s own weakness. “Lan Sizhui, may be a Lan, but at the end of the day he is still the child of someone so heinous.” 

Lan Wangji couldn’t take this anymore, he couldn’t hear the one person so below him continue this assault on his own blood. They can poke all the fun they want at Wei Ying and know that his son and husband were able to take it, Sizhui has been taking the insults towards his mother since the day he was born, but the minute they started questioning his stance as a Lan, it suddenly became apparent that rather than targeting Wei Ying, the mob was also earmarking their baby boy. It was too cruel for him to take, he had raised Sizhui since he was an infant and if anything threatened his son, he wasn’t going to stand idly by . With Wei Ying, he knew that the other could hold himself, he had years of training that Lan Sizhui lacked, so he took his step forward ready to strike Jin Guangyao with everything he had held back, but found a cold hand snake around his chest and pull him. Lan Wangji closed his eyes, schooling his expression of shock as a sharp blade was pressed to his neck in a similar fashion as it was once placed at Sizhui’s neck. Looking down he saw the engraving of Nanping and felt his heart drop in his chest. 

“Baba!” Sizhui cried, trying to step forward, but Wei Ying grasped quickly at his boy’s arm and pulled him back so he wouldn’t be on display in the room. During the attack on Lotus Pier, the one that had started the Sunshot campaign, Wei Ying had remembered how crucial the act of words were. Reluctantly, he wished Yu-Furen was still alive, she may have abused him for half of his life, but the lessons she had taught him never once hadn’t been life saving. 

Squaring his shoulder, he imagined the woman in his head and tried his best to mimic her furious glare and tilted head “Sizhui,” he started firmer, demanding in his tone to keep Lan Wangji’s son’s attention on him, “your father is in a precarious situation, don’t cause his death.” Wei Ying could see the heartbreak in the boy’s eyes, practically kicking himself for being blunt, but Sizhui needed to know. 

“Yes, Sizhui,” Jin Guangyao picked up, “our Mo Xuanyu is right, you should be careful what you say. I would have thought that a boy who was raised to be a man from early on, would know when to protect and when to stand down . Shame that your father could not teach you this lesson till now. Now that I think about it, Sizhui, your father was never one to learn that lesson, so it would be fate that you were so bad at it too,” the grasp on Sizhui’s arm tightened ever so slightly, but the boy was glad he had someone to ground him so tightly, Jin Guangyao’s eyes scanned the room until they landed on the furiously restrained man, “when do you stop? When is it ever enough for you. Was it when you attacked thirty-three elders, was it when the Yiling Patriarch killed himself, was it-” 

“No more!” Sizhui cut the other off, covering his ears with his hands, “stop this! I can’t take it anymore, my parents don’t deserve this, they haven’t done anything to you!” 

“Sizhui… Sizhui,” the golden snake began to shake his head slowly, clicking his tongue as if he was scolding a dog, “your parents haven’t done anything? Such a broad statement , when your mother was the main catalyst to the death of your cousin’s parents. Jin Ling was made an orphan, because of your mother’s actions. So to say your parents have done nothing is a terrible lie.” 

“Shut up,” Lan Wangji’s hissed through strangled breath, Su She just tightened the sword at the man’s neck. Inside he was so happy to finally get the righteous Jade of Lan under the cut of his blade. “Don’t listen to them Sizhui,” he was quick, to get his final line, before the blade cut into his trachea. 

“You always forget about how your mom has killed my parents,” Jin Ling’s words were like a shock of cold water to Sizhui, “how can you stand there and say Wei Wuxian wasn’t the cause of my parent’s death. The Jiangs took him in and what was the thanks he gave them?! He didn’t just orphan me, he orphaned our Uncle Jiang, and he only failed halfway for you! And yet here we are, standing here with your mother back in the flesh and blood,” Jin Ling unsheathed Suihua, the ‘shink ’ of the metal was piercing as he pointed it at Wei Ying, “why do you get your mother back, what did you do in this universe to ever get something like this back. I’ve spent my entire conscious life praying for my mom to come back and nobody ever answers me and suddenly you start to accept your own mother’s death and then he’s back. This isn’t right! ” He felt like a child, stamping his foot against the ground like he’d done so many times when his anger was taking control of his body. 

Wei Ying felt his blood in his ears, white noise filling his head as he stared down the blade. Though he came to accept it, he always thought Lan Sizhui was Lan Wangji’s second child, A-Yuan was supposed to be dead. His false ashes spread across the Nightless city only for the living baby to be abandoned at the Burial Mounds. Now he was thinking, every time he asked Lan Wangji about the second relationship that had given him Sizhui, he’d always get this look . The same look that he had also given Wei Ying, when he had teased the other about his nonexistent crush on Mianmian. 

It wasn’t the look of ‘ I don’t want to talk about my second loveless marriage where I was forced to make a heir for my Uncle’s own pleasure, ’ no it was the look of ‘ Damnit Wei Ying, you’re truly the dumbest person on the earth, because I could never have another marriage after you. Lans only love once, ’

“Sizhui…” Wei Wuxian said the name on his tongue, testing the words as if they could be poisonous. He felt like his lips were beginning to burn the slower he said it. The Yiling Patriarch  turned to gaze his eyes at Lan Wangji, when they met the air became hard to breathe.  “Lan Zhan...Sizhui is his birth name, right?” What else could it be? Hanguang Jun would never be so informal as to address his son by anything that wasn’t his birth name. 

“No… “ Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes and once more gave that 'look…'  only this time it was intense and spoke 15 years worth of lost words. Lan Zhan’s voice barely came above a whisper as he turned his gaze down to the floor, “it is his courtesy name.” 

“His courtesy name?!” Wei Ying cried, his chest became wrapped in a vice, his own heart began to break as he turned around to stare into those familiar golden eyes of the baby he once held in his arms so long ago. The golden eyes of his father… the sun-tanned skin of his mother… the button nose...Wei Wuxian began to notice more and more the features that stood out so clearly. “Sizhui is your courtesy name?” it was as if he was truly going insane, how was he truly this stupid? There had to be an award given to him for how many times he had told himself that the idea of this boy, the one standing in front of him, who looked just like he did when he went to study at Gusu for the first time. Young, naïve, and so so beautiful, was his son . “W-What is your birth name?” he addressed the boy, already feeling his heart in his throat, beating slower and slower. 

Before Sizhui could speak, his small voice was cut off in a slip of breath by a much more pompous one, “Yiling Patriarch, allow me to answer your question with another question.” Jin Guangyao laughed, as if he found this whole situation the funniest thing in the world, “Tell me… what is the name of your first born and only son?” 

“Yuan...” The name was the easiest thing to fall from his mouth, he could never forget that name...feeling the familiar curl of his tongue. Yet the syllables escaped broken and in a whispered mess. “My son was named Yuan, the character for hope... but my son is dead ... I-I thought...” tears were filling his eyes as shakily he brought his hand up to the side of the boy’s shocked face, the second his palm made contact with the skin of Sizhui cheek, it was like lightning. As if to try and make this moment as surreal as he could. The pad of Wei Wuxian’s thumb brushed under Sizhui’s bruised eye socket. His breath kept catching in his throat as he tried to find the right words to explain to the young boy the years of all his regrets. “A-Y-Yuan...My son…?”  

Sizhui was looking up into his Mother’s eyes. He had never even thought that would be a thing he would do in his life. Every dream he had ever had, Mother was always this blurry image that he could never see clearly and yet here he was seeing him truly. The fabric was so real...the skin was not marred or scarred in any way...his eyelashes were long and his cheekbones sharp. His pupils were as soft as he’d dreamed they could be. It was like his most outlandish fantasies were coming true… Sizhui just wanted to stay here. Focused on nothing but his mother, and let the time make up for everything lost. “Ma--” Sizhui felt his lips begin to form the motion of ‘mama.’ He didn't have to be scared anymore...his mother was alive...

The young boy had forgotten that however in dreams when everything seems so real it is in fact not meant to last… Only meant for a memory rather than a moment to live in, it was the nightmares that were meant to be endured… Why should he expect anything else? Past his mother’s head in the blurr of his unfocused eyes he could see the glimmering glint of Suihua’s tip pointing at the back of his mother. Jin Ling’s furious face was almost as illuminated as his sword when he pulled back ready to plunge it into the vulnerable man's back. Was Jin Ling crying…? 

No. Sizhui had just got his mother back, he is actually awake and he can feel the wool fabric, the warmth of his hands, the silk of his hair... Father had just gotten mother back, he no longer had to long for him, nor visit a bodiless grave. It was as if the more Sizhui counted his blessings that the spark of desire in his cousin’s face was becoming more intent and focused at the thought of finally killing the Yiling Patriarch...no, Mother. 

He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t live with himself if he had stood idly by as Mother was once again ripped from Father’s life. If it came to it, Sizhui knew what choice he was going to make and it wasn’t going to be at the cost of his Mother’s second death. Mother had more to live for now... With his free hand, he reached forward grasping Wei Ying by the shoulder, his grip affirmed. Within seconds Sizhui felt his heart be filled and broken all at once as he used the last of his spiritual energy, to push the man towards Father and Su She. Wei Wuxian stumbled forward and fell on his back to the marble floors, at the feet of his husband. Watching with horror as the blade of his nephew made its sheathe deep in the stomach of his son. 

Lan Wangji felt his heart stop, his breath lurched forward as if he was about to be sick. Even Su She had slightly loosened his hold on his blade at the shock of the scene before them. Wei Wuxian barely blinked and now his son was impaled on a blade. “Yuan!” Both parents called to their son who remained unmoved, not even a turn of the head. The young boy kept his eyes locked on his cousin, with every passing second the white of his Lan hanfu, bloomed further with burgundy. 

Inside it was like a spark of lightning, a talisman that went haywire that sent jolts of electricity up his spine. Sizhui felt hyper aware of every organ in his body and each blood vessels and arteries popping as the hot blade was pressed deeper into his stomach. He had come to the conclusion within seconds that he wouldn't wish this pain on anyone in the world. Even more so his mother, whom it was originally meant for. The breath that was once so easy to find in his lungs was fleeting, his skin prickling with awareness for the foreign object. Without thinking, his hands moved to grasp at Jin Ling’s hands at the hilt of Suihua, in hopes of pulling the blade out. This only seemed to infuriate the Jin heir more, as even with a sword buried in his stomach, Sizhui still had power… though his hands numbed the same moment, Jin Ling pushed it further tearing at parts of Sizhui’s body he didn't even know were there. Betrayal was written all over A-Ling’s face, one that was so ready to end the life of his Mother, yet in turn was blocked by Sizhui. Golden eyes were boring into brown, a spark of war.  

“Bastard,” Jin Ling’s words were snarled, pushing the sword to its hilt, meeting the fabric of Sizhui’s stomach. Only to in return feel Sizhui’s feeble fingers pinch and grip at his knuckles. 

“A stupid bastard,” Sizhui responded thickly choking on every inflection, the words left his mouth as if he were vomiting, leaving trails of blood down the corner of his lips. He could feel the metallic red coating his teeth and tongue. Having the sword inside him, he could deal with the torment, for a moment he even thought it was going away. In a flash of white he watched as father lunged forward and pushed Jin Ling and his blade away, the sudden removal of the blade from Sizhui’s body was tortuous. On the marble floor, the blood inside his body dropped in rivulets and began staining the leather of his shoes and pooled around him like ripples in a pond. Now he was scared...he knew fear the moment it made its presence and Sizhui was petrified. He could barely feel his fingertips as he willed his one hand to grab at the wound, but found the mess of gore was seeping through his five fingers and quickly tried to cover it with his other hand. 

Looking up from the mess he was making, Sizhui felt his head was swimming as he began to sway. His body twisted, only slightly aware that it was his Father who was rushing to his side, a thin wound was around his neck, but he couldn’t really focus as he fell back. The back of his skull knocked harshly against the bone of Father’s shoulder. Sizhui fought to find the energy to lift his hands to grasp the lapels of the older man’s robe, but he was slowly losing his sense of touch. It was as if every sensation of his flesh was met with pinpricks. His nose was being assaulted with the once warm familiar scent of sandalwood, now becoming too intense. His whole body was pulsing with a constant thrum of painful electricity as another hand met his at the base of the wound. 

Wei Ying felt like he was watching his worst nightmare, not even the pain in his shoulder from when he was casted aside by Sizhui was enough to kick him out of his frozen state. Sizhui collapsed in Lan Zhan’s arm with a dull thud, his eyes rolling back so far the whiteness became apparent. Still on his back, Wei Ying tried to jump up, but a heavy foot landed on his stomach, causing a burst of air, to be forced out his lungs. He grasped at the man’s ankle, already knowing the shoe belonged to Su She from the stolen Lan colors of his robe, and let all his emotions go into the intense grip of his ankle, that action alone spoke volumes. He was pissed, beyond pissed probably at this point. He was mad about the play of this cruel earth to let his baby, his son, be stabbed in front of him. With all the spiritual energy that Mo Xuanyu had in his body, Wei Ying used it to snap that annoying man’s ankle for thinking that he was so powerless to be kept like a bug under a shoe. Su She shrieked, pulling his foot back enough that Wei Ying could just slip under to crawl across the ground. 

Last time he had crawled like this, he was crawling away from his son. Plucking himself from the boy’s life and now he was crawling to place himself back where he should have been all along. 

Sizhui, though distraught with pain, could feel a hand press to the sternum of his chest and through blurry eyes, spilling with his tears of agony there was a wash of dark hair that waved over him. His hand, still bloody from trying to hold in his entrails, grasped at the red ribbon that felt more like the red string of fate to him. Fate brought him to his Mother and they have been connected their whole life, though sometimes the ribbon had gotten caught and tangled. In the end their profoundness would always bring them back to this one scene. 

Mother’s hair was brushing his face, it smelt like the warmth of campfires spent with his friends and at the same time a walk through a snowy forest. Sizhui’s body was shaking from blood loss, but he was okay if he could die with his whole consciousness consumed with the scents of his parents mingling together. He was ripped from his thoughts by a severe wash of pain pulling a whine instantly from his lips, Sizhui’s hand that was holding the ribbon freed itself and began fighting off the cold fingers that dared to touch the oozing wound, he felt frozen as a soft voice filled his ear, “no… baobei it’s okay, let Mama see.” Mother’s voice was strained, he could hear the quiver of his voice and a chaste kiss pressed to his hot, wet cheek in apology. His vision was swimming as he tried to focus on Mother’s face, trying to map out every freckle, and line of his cheek. Trying to mask the feeling of a foreign hand beginning to touch his gaping wound. “ You’re okay , I promise it’s nothing .” 

The words were definitely not true, Wei Ying knew he was lying as he stared at the wound so deep he could look in to see every internal organ in his son’s stomach. It felt so much better to keep Sizhui’s head clear as he was obviously going through the throws of losing too much blood. His soft skin was clammy to the touch, even though the boy was wracking with shivers. Wei Ying could count as Sizhui’s chest began rapidly rising and falling with shallow breaths. 

“I’m sorry,” Sizhui coughed up a blood clot, feeling as if he was vomiting up his whole stomach with every bubble of slurred words, “F-Father..I’m sorry.” In the inn he told Jin Ling that he was okay with dying, he knew it was going to happen, but now he was in the situation he was so scared. Tears were spilling from his eyes to mesh with the blood on his cheeks. 

“Don’t speak,” Father’s familiar voice rumbled in his other ear, “Brother--” he was cut off when he spoke, a sob disguised in a cough, “Brother… what do I do?” 

Bobo made his appearance, a warm hand also began prodding at the wound alongside Mother’s hand. Sizhui screamed, feeling his whole body bow with pain, he struggled in Father’s tight embrace as a searing hot irritation assaulted itself through his tight chest. Father was whispering to him a plea, one that Sizhui was far too gone to hear, but all he could feel was the cadence of his chest as he spoke with every word. Above him he could see the altered image of Father somehow managing to switch back and forth to comfort Mother and then demanding for his brother to do something. Zewu-Jun made quick work of cauterizing the wound, but in such a place he knew that the cut wasn’t going to hold shut for long. “This will buy you some time,  but it won’t last us for long. Quickly, mount your sword and I’ll meet you three back at Cloud Recess.” 

“Brother-” Wangji’s eyes were pleading, knowing there were no words he could form to make the situation any better. Looking down Sizhui’s body, he could see the top of Wei Ying’s head as he laid himself so his ear was pressed to their son’s chest, listening to every beat of his heart. When Lan Wangji had lost Wei Ying, he thought that the pain could never be matched again, but now in this situation it was dawning on him that it felt the same . When Wei Ying died, Lan Wangji knew that there would be a place in his heart that would never heal, though people told him mourning wasn’t going to last forever. Though to him he knew that there will never be a time when he wasn’t mourning. When someone was stabbed, the wound was never going to go away, there were always scars and the trauma. So when his heart was shattered beyond belief, he knew there were going to be deep scars. 

When it was the day just after Wei Ying’s death that was filled with celebrations, Lan Wangji on the other hand felt so raw. Holding his son when he was just a little baby and listened to his brother tell him that time will heal the gaping wound in his heart. But what nobody told him was what he was supposed to do at that moment. Time was going to heal him, yes, when the day came eventually, but what was he supposed to do right now . It was right now he couldn’t sleep. He was so filled with agony, right now he couldn’t eat, right now he couldn’t look at the face of his son, because it looked just like his Mother. Right now he wasn’t sure what to do, because he was filled with a type of grief that had no set line, but one that just sent him round and round in circles. 

To know there was grief was to be expected, but it was not the act of losing Wei Ying’s from his memories that hit him the hardest. To not be able to close his eyes and remember every moment that Wei Ying had ever smiled at him, to watch with nothing to combat the act as time began to fade his memories into a frustrating blur of someone he loved so intensely. Time was supposed to heal his wounds, brother had said so, not take away things that brought him joy! Though Lan Wangji liked to think Time was a criminal dressed in saint’s clothing, because to the eyes of someone who never felt the type of grief he was feeling, they thought Time was doing the right thing by stealing his most cherished memories. To him it was as if someone was trying to crush every bone in his body for every memory that they ripped from. 

The remembrance of Wei Ying lying in the inn bed when they conceived Yuan and told Lan Wangji that he loved him,with a voice filled with so much assurance. The memory of  his addictive scent, to walk into rooms and not see the man whose own personality so boldly could fill the room with just his presence. He thought about losing Sizhui the way he had lost Wei Ying, to watch himself collect the items in the boy’s dorm, to see him fade from existence and it felt like his own stab wound. 

It was Lan Wangji’s own guilt that kept Wei Ying’s new presence from Sizhui in the first place, because he just didn’t know what to say. Still now he had no clue on how to explain himself as he forced Sizhui’s head up by his chin, so he would stop looking at the laceration on the right side of his body, right beside his hip. The same place Lan Wangji remembered Wei Ying was stabbed by Jiang Cheng during their childish battle outside the Burial Mound. All Sizhui’s life he refused to open himself up about Wei Ying so he wouldn’t subject his son to his grief. To pretend as if the moment the boy’s mother died wasn’t the day that he felt his precious world collapsing underneath him, was an insult to their relationship. If the birds of sorrow could just fly over Sizhui’s head and not nest like they did in Wangji’s head, then he could go to sleep without crying, one damn night . Nobody could speak for him on the matters on why he hadn’t told his husband or son their relations because they had never been in the situation he was in. 

He thought he could take the time to neatly explain Wei Ying’s resurrection to Sizhui after the whole Ghost Sword was over, but it only led to watching as his son was bleeding out on the floor and Wei Ying hands to be covered in the blood of their offspring. In the end, speaking on the unimaginable thing to happen was more profound than Lan Wangji knew how to handle without feeling it wasn’t enough. Nobody could speak for him on the matter of why he hadn’t told his son or Xichen, his big brother who he looked to for to every answer looked so lost, lifting his hands and watching the blood slid coyly from his index finger and splattered to the ground, the oldest Lan found himself closing his eyes, not even wanting to continue subjecting himself to watch his nephew slowly bleed out anymore. 

“Go!” Xichen commanded them.

Chapter Text

My Pride and My Prejudice

Chapter 5 - Remembrance

___❀___

Xichen was barely nineteen when his father died. He was barely nineteen when he felt an intrinsic instinct that he was all alone. Granted at the time he was fleeing from his precious home by himself to safeguard the ancient texts. But he will never forget the moment he knew his father was gone. A word that was so evident in his life, that to him, to be able to recognize the exact moment he was alone shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did. With the ancient texts pressed firm to his chest, he looked down and for the first time questioned in his life was this all that truly mattered? Uncle had always told him that it was the first and only priority, to be the example that his father wasn’t, but now it felt damning. His father and mother were both torn to pieces by the words he held in his hands, and he couldn’t say that their deaths were in vain because he truly didn’t know. He in fact wouldn’t know until he watched his didi , the only direct blood family he had left, mourn for fourteen years. Watch him everyday wear layers of white and never again utter so much of a melodic tone that only Xichen had heard. 

Although there were nurses and servants to attend to Wangji when he was bedridden, Xichen had his fair share of moments that were tending to his younger brother. When he had Sizhui in one arm sleeping and the bandages for Wangji in another, he knew that those moments were not worth the rules. Damn the blood, the rules, the regalness, it meant nothing if you had to sacrifice your entire being just to be something you're not.

Just as Xichen was always destined to be the Lan clan leader...Wangji was fated to be Yuan’s father, and to correct the mistakes of Qingheng-Jun. It was what he was doing now in their current situation that atoned for Qingheng’s mistakes. By not just taking his son, but also his beloved and damning anything else that threatened his family's safety. Standing in the thin air of the Treasure room, Lan Xichen watched as his brother escaped with Wei Ying plastered to his front trying to keep pressure on their son’s stomach wound. Within seconds the young clan leader learned a life's worth of lessons and finally knowing what mattered most, Xichen concluded that he would stand for it. No longer a slave to those that came before him in title . 

Xichen opened his eyes, everything felt so vibrant to his sensitive irises, he watched as his brother scooped up Sizhui in a bridal hold with Wei Ying close to his side. The Yiling Patriach’s usual fluttering hands were pressed intensely on the stab wound, as they tried to make their exit. Su She hand grasped at Wei Ying’s ankle, trying to climb the young man to hold him in place, but the minute he tried to block their immediate exit, he was knocked back again, spiraling backwards and landing roughly on his tailbone. 

Picking up Shuoyue from the floor, Xichen wouldn’t allow himself to relax. Sizhui, even though stabilized, wasn't going to last very long. It gave his brother the time to fly to Cloud Recess, but the minute they all touched down, Sizhui was going to continue bleeding out his precious life. Taking a step forward, Xichen felt the energy of Hensheng stopping him in his place as he narrowly danced out of the way of  the golden slash.

“Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao's voice, instead of his normal whining tone was now demanding, “what are you doing? Going with them?”

“What do you think I am doing.” With an uncharacteristic spark of defiance, Lan Xichen had asked, sheathing his blade in the holster to show he wasn’t going to fight. 

That only sparked more anger in Jin Guangyao, his eyes flaring with hot flames, “you're going out there and you’re creating a fool of yourself! ”  

Lan Xichen watched as Jin Ling tried to get a stab in towards him, but Jiang Cheng grabbed the boy around his entire body, squeezing his arms tightly towards his chest. Suihua clattered the ground, the Jiang sect leader gave him a look that said ‘if you’re going to go, go now. ’ 

“Meng Yao,” Xichen turned slowly, watching as the smaller man broke character by hitching up his shoulders at the name, “you are my friend, one of my closest confidants. I have told you my most deepest secrets, worries and you have the audacity to ask me if I am going to go after Wangji... my blood brother....I told you that I would never allow what happened to Da-Ge ever happen again… Wangji has told me everything that you have been hiding and you dare call yourself my sworn brother still?” 

“And you believe Hanguang-Jun?” Guangyao sneered, stepping down from the platform to stand in front of Lan Xichen. Even as they stared at each other, he couldn’t help, but feel as if he was staring at a different person. Since Mingjue’s death, there has been something brewing, something dark that bubbled with hatred. 

“He is my brother.” 

“And you believe him?!” Guangyao repeated his words, auciating each syllable has if he hadn't been heard the first time.

“He. Is. My. Brother.” Guangyao looked offended, Xichen’s words pierced his heart, instantly he felt abandoned once more. Xichen just closed his eyes to focus on his own emotions rather than find himself swayed by anymore manipulation. It didn't matter how Guangyao felt anymore, if he was truly a sworn brother of Xichen, he would know that family always comes first, especially in the context of the young Lan clan leader. 

Xichen loved Jin Guangyao, he loved him as his companion, partner in crime, his sworn brother, but he knew that Jin Guangyao was not capable of loving him back. Guangyao could speak about love, he could see love, but he just couldn’t give love back . He could compel Xichen to love him with his insecurities and kindness, but he could never make promises and that was all Xichen wanted from him. Even behind the temporary bliss, the passionate highs and lows, the manipulation, Xichen knew if Guangyao ever let himself bow low enough to reveal his darkest secrets, he’d most likely combust.

Mingjue, may the Gods let his spirit rest peacefully, was their friend, but even when he was alive, Guangyao and Mingjue stood on two very different sides. Mingjue had a type of sense that was black and white, if he deemed a person to be untrustworthy to him that would be the end of the line for said person. No second chances. He had told Lan Xichen that Guangyao was that type of person, he was too ambitious to turn around and look at all the people he had stepped on in the climb for power. Lan Xichen tried to sway his friend, show him that Jin Guangyao was working on being a better person, but it was fruitless in his labor. Nobody could sway Mingjue, not even Huaisang was able to sway his hard headed brother, because in the end, he was right in what he said about Guangyao. 

In all physical tenses, when a person would go out into the sun they’d see that they’re body had a shadow. Some interpreted that their shadow was like an anchor to the earth or a twin to walk beside them when everyone chose to leave them. To Jin Guangyao, his shadow was a weakness, a constant reminder of his failures and a piece that every disciple on the earth could see and point wicked fingers.  

Xichen liked his shadow. He liked that people could see a Lan leader had weaknesses and subsequently know that he was stronger than them, no matter what they thought. He had been built from two people who let their shadows consume them and yet he was strong enough to separate himself from his deepest failures. In his head he thought he could fix Jin Guangyao, take the broken man and rebuild him from every dent and spider crack, just as he had been. But in the end as they stared at each other, Xichen knew that this man was too broken to rebuild. 

His shadow was too thick, his trauma too profound. If Jin Guangyao ever was to look at his shadow, he’d most likely be consumed. So Xichen knew he had to let go, and not continue to hold onto this fake love he had thought they were constructing. Guangyao had been building him cathedrals with words, palaces out of paragraphs, and when Xichen went back to look at the letters he found there was never anything there. An apparition of compassion and he found himself separating from his shadow just like Guangyao had done. However, this time it wasn’t for the sake of his own mindless ego , he was doing it to finally pick a side. 

“I don’t trust Wei Ying,” he told the room what they wanted to hear, but instantly he changed their minds with the next words uttered,  “I’d never trust him after the things he has done and said, but know that when Wangji speaks, he does not lie . Meng Yao you lie with your mouth, but you also lie with your tears and I am through with you trying to turn me against my family. It is through Wangji and Wei Ying that my nephew and hier exist. Do you all actually think I don't love my nephew! I love him so much I would start wars for him. I have made my choice, Jin Ling, Jin Guangyao, if you ever step foot into Cloud Recess, I will strike both of you down, with no hesitation. ” 

Xichen was livid, shaking from how loud his voice was projecting. It felt good for once to mean what he said in defence of his family. Now it was time to prove it. 

All his life he had been a mediator, someone who placates. He had done this with his uncle and brother, then to his brother and Wei Ying, Lan Sizhui and Lan Qiren, Jin Guangyao and Mingjue, but now he was ready to take off his bandages. Finally he was through with being a mediator and it only took the safety of his own nephew to become jeopardized for him to realize this. In the end he could be a tyrant instead. Unsheathing his sword, he sent a wordless line that he was ready to fight, he was ready to fight anyone who wanted to say anything to his family. He allowed Jin Guangyao to sneak into this household and slowly began replacing critical members. Twisting around to create an angelic image of himself that was instead dripping with murderous actions. 

Instead of retreating, Xichen left with his head held high, willing any disciple to dare strike him down. The men with the peony insignia carved into their robes, stepped out of his way, as if he was moving mountains with every step he took. Xichen knew what he did and he couldn’t help happily giggle within his head, until he imagined Sizhui’s broken body and all happiness was thrashed. Stepping out of the Treasure Room he found his heart drop to his chest as he saw Jingyi standing at the top of the steps, looking so unsure of himself, face as white as a sheet. 

“Zewu-Jun!” He cried, running towards him and grasping at the hem of his robe like he had done as a child.

As long as Jingyi lives, Xichen would always think of the boy as a second nephew to him and as well as seeing a young mirrored image of himself. His mind recalled for a moment a time when, Wangji had been having a really bad day for his back. He could barely even get up from his bed and Sizhui, old enough, but still so young, had taken off from his lessons to take care of his Father.

While he knew that Sizhui would go to the stars and back for his injured father, young Sizhui's own innocence failed to allow him to realize that if his father needed to walk around...relieve himself and or have his wounds cleaned, Sizhui would be too young to do such things. Although he could, it still did not make it right. The boy had been extremely protective of his injured father and indeed had inherited his stubbornness from both parents, doing whatever he could to reassure the doctors and Zewu Jun, that he was capable of taking care of father all on his own. Knowing these facts and being the boy’s only bobo, Xichen planned on relieving Sizhui of his duties that day. But even before he had gotten to the Jingshi he had seen a younger boy sitting on one of the tree branches outside. 

Xichen was floored, because he never met another Lan who would willingly climb a tree, because that meant they’d get their robes filthy. It was one of those unspoken rules, but looking at the overhanging boy it   became apparent the boy was young enough to be in Sizhui’s class. “Hello?” he had asked, carefully and cautious, trying not to scare the other, but found it was fruitless, because the boy screamed as loud as the heavens and plummeted from the tree with a dull thud. Xichen found his brotherly instincts kicking in as he fell to the ground, helping the small Lan up and dusting off the shoulders of the already muddy robes. 

“Sect Leader,” the Lan bowed lowly and quickly, cheeks a deep crimson, “this disciple is very sorry! I shouldn’t be here, but I wanted to give Sizhui the homework,” grasping into his robe he produced crumpled papers that made the boy squeak and instantly tried to flatten with the palm of his hands, “and then I saw this tree and I climbed it to see better!” Xichen wasn’t following, but he just nodded along, “Sizhui wasn’t in class,” he finally sighed giving up his obvious lie of why he was here in the first place, lowering his head so low that his chin kissed the top of his sternum, “he never misses class and I thought he got sick and I felt weird going in and demanding where he was, Sect Leader I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, your fine,” Xichen found himself laughing, gently pressing his hand to the boy’s back and leading him towards the Jingshi, “I was just heading there too, Hanguang-Jun wasn’t feeling well and I was coming to bring him tea,” he lifted the tray he had in his hand to show his intentions, “but I suppose I was also taking the time to see my dearest zhizhi , we can go together, make it less suspicious.” 

Jingyi had smiled at him like he had specifically delivered the boy the sun. Walking into the Jingshi, Xichen had been less than surprised that Sizhui was sitting on the edge of his father’s bed dapping a cold cloth of mixed herbal medicines to Lan Zhan’s wounds. The young boy looked near insulted at the sight of his uncle entering such a sensitive time, but not to last for long when Jingyi appeared next to him. Sizhui being only six, should have been excited to see his classmate and friend, but his immediate response was to return to silently tending his father’s wounds. The younger man lying stomach down on the white sheets, was deathlike, only twitching every so often the medicine invaded his scars. Xichen could see that not only was Sizhui cleaning his father’s wounds, but his small hand had encased his father’s giving him the support for when the pain was too invasive. 

“Sizhui...you have done so well this day...allow me to take care of your father for awhile and you go entertain Jingyi.” Xichen hummed, more endearing and not a bit commanding. Sizhui made no moves, continuing to nurse his Father's marred back, and Xichen gave him the time to consider his response as he knew his nephew to always be thoughtful. 

“Baba needs me Bobo...maybe tomorrow if Baba feels better.” Finally the six year old said, placing the cloth back into the basin to be washed free of the blood. Only to pick it up back up again moments later. It was as if he was on autopilot, communicating with his uncle, while not forgetting about his Father.

“...Sizhui...please.” Xichen stepped forward, still his voice not even treading over a commanding tone. 

“B-But!” Xichen held two fingers up slightly and Sizhui relaxed, though he was twisting the herbal cloth in between his fingers, anxiety clearly present. 

“I will bring your father outside to sit in his chair and you will be with him soon enough.” Xichen promised, standing firm. Jingyi perked up from behind Xichen’s legs and smiled. 

“Come on Sizhui! We can play skipping stones in the pond!” Jingyi giggled, Xichen in turn gently patted the boy's head and pushed him forward to encourage his friend outside. With the clan leader's permission Jingyi dashed forward grabbing the boy's hand and pulled him towards the courtyard. 

Sizhui’s face was riddled with worry and he broke away just as they were meant to go outside and turned to look at his father on the bed. With that the young boy moved to get away he walked up to the edge of Lan Zhan’s bed and squeezed tight his father’s finger with his small hand. “Baba? I won’t be gone long.” 

Lan Zhan simply returned Sizhui’s sweet words with a melodic hum under his breath. Sizhui kissed his father’s shoulder and turned to walk back to his friend “Not more than a moment...I can’t be gone long.” Sizhui ordered, his tiny index finger pointing outside. 

“Then let's go!” Jingyi urged, running outside and beginning to collect small round stones that they could use to skip over the water. In the time that it took for the boys to gather their stones and sit by the edge of the pond, Xichen had been able to get Wangji out of bed and supported on his shoulder so they could begin to walk towards the veranda. Even when he was supposed to be happy and distracted Sizhui’s shoulders would flinch every time he heard his father groan trying to walk the short distance to sit in his chair. Jingyi however was very much focused on trying to keep Sizhui distracted. 

“Look! I skipped farther than you!” Sizhui seemed unpulsed. 

“Jingyi...father needs me. I am sorry…” Sizhui was compelled to run to his father’s side, turning to dash back into the house. However, Jingyi had caught him by the tails of his headband, shocking Sizhui into a frozen state. 

“If you move one more step! I will take it off!” Jingyi declared, smirking playfully. 

Sizhui knew from both Baba and Bobo that the headband... never came off . Not even when you are sleeping does it come off and Sizhui could feel the tug of his coming loose. Instantly Sizhui recoiled and came closer to Jingyi, subsequently loosening his grip on his headband. 

“Hanguang-Jun is fine Sizhui! Look for yourself!” Jingyi pointed to the veranda where Xichen was carefully laying a blanket over Lan Zhan’s lap to keep him from getting a chill. The last thing the man needed to risk was getting sick. But the cool Cloud Recess air did seem to make him more comfortable, and he was even able to lay back a bit onto a few pillows. When Sizhui’s eyes met his, Lan Zhan pulled the corner of his lip into a curled smile, to reassure his son. Bobo stood close by too, resting his back against the wall of entrance. 

“See! He’s fine! Now can we please play?!” Jingyi pestered further, however knowing his father was a mere meter away from him gave Sizhui the confidence to go back to the pond’s edge and continue his game. A flutter of giggles not long after filled the misty courtyard comforting both Lan Zhan and Xichen. 

“...He tends to me...too much…” Lan Zhan whispered, staring at his young son finally taking advantage of being a true child. “I worry everyday that he will resent this life.” Lan Zhan confined in his brother who had stepped forward to keep a better eye on the children. Sizhui could be trusted...but Jingyi looked almost too enamored with the pond and Xichen will admit that in those next moments he was ready to be pulling either one of them from the water. “He needs to be a child…” Lan Zhan groaned, twisting his fingers in his blanket as a spasm of pain rushed through him. 

“And he is Wangji… your son doesn't have the capacity to be resentful in any way. It is why he will probably surpass me as a clan leader one day. He is in so many ways beyond his years and has so much love to give.” Xichen hummed, smiling lightly as Jingyi splashed Sizhui with water watching the boy explode with laughter. “...and I think Jingyi will do well by him.” 

“You want him to be what for Sizhui? Certainly not second in command, he is too reckless… the only reason I let them play together is because Sizhui needs that hyperactiveness to even consider leaving me…” Lan Zhan huffed, unamused. 

“I think you will be surprised at how well they balance each other out, even more so after I begin training him.” Xichen spoke with his chin lifted up, clearly enjoying watching his nephew try to understand the concept of having the front of his hanfu soaked with koi pond water.

“So confident…” The younger rolled his eyes, whether at his older brother’s statement, or at the fact that Jingyi had been the one to completely soak his well behaved child, was indeterminable. 

Being thrown from his moments of reflection into his current state, Xichen grabbed his young appreciate, the best friend of his nephew and possibly more. Together they boarded Shuoyue and took off into the sky, towards the Recess, silently hoping they wouldn't be too late. 

___❀___

Jin Ling could feel his entire world was caving in. He could feel Uncle Jiang’s breath on the back of his neck, feel the man’s hands that were intertwined together pressed into his stomach to hold him still, he could see Sizhui’s blood spilling out of Wei Wuxian’s hands. He stabbed his cousin… he had just stabbed his cousin . Oh by the gods, he just stabbed his cousin. 

"Stay the night,” Sizhui asked quietly, “I have room for two in my bed.”

When Jin Ling opened up his eyes from a long blink, Sizhui wasn’t in the Treasure Room anymore. There was a maroon puddle in his wake, shining like a glossy pool of rainwater. Lan Xichen was yelling at Jin Guangyao, but all Jin Ling could hear was radio static, his head fuzzy as he watched the God of a man crush his Uncle with just a simple gaze, before stalking out the room. Nobody moved, the magic mirror made a humming noise as Xichen crossed over it, but it felt like a death bell in Jin Ling’s head.

“I’m not going to take it out on his family,” Uncle Jiang retaliated back hotly, “have you ever wondered why Lan Sizhui and Lan Wangji only ever wear white?”

For the first time, Suihua clattered the ground, her metal hilt clinking against the floor as a sob wrenched passed the wall he upheld for so long. Jin Ling felt like a puppet on a string, being played in a certain direction to reap havoc on everyone he had ever trusted. It was like a dawning bomb that he had made the worst decision of his life, one that was one hundred percent emotionally driven. Uncle Jiang was right, angry people do make really bad decisions. 

“A-Yuan,” Jin Ling stammered, raising a hand to stop the boy. This also seemed to stop Lan Wangji who turned around with cold fury and all the jokes about Jingyi’s crush died in his throat. “B-bye,” he whimpered, going back to miming pain from the cut on his skull. 

Sizhui frowned, eyes closing to let two long tears stream down the apples of his cheeks, “bye, Jin Ling,” he offered a hollow smile and a half hearted wave.

“Hey,” A firm voice rattling behind his back, bringing Jin Ling to the present, his whole body was shaking with a type of chill that was chattering his teeth. Everytime he looked at the puddle of blood left over from Sizhui, he felt as if he was going to puke. Uncle Jiang’s arms had softened from holding him back, so Jin Ling just turned around and threw his limbs around the older man’s neck, hands grabbing purchase on the collar of his robe and pushing his nose deeply into the vein on his nape. Uncle grasped him by the base of his skull, shushing him softly as his little nephew wracked with so many muddled emotions. 

“ Promise me,” 

“ Yes, reluctantly I’ll promise you,”

“I promised Sizhui I would help him,” Jin Ling screamed, his throat hoarse as Uncle Jiang’s arms tightened, “he knew he was going to die and I killed him myself!” 

“Shh…” Uncle Jiang whispered soothingly in his ear, rubbing large circles into the taught spine of his beloved nephew. His heart was aching, wishing he had grabbed the boy quicker or somehow could just go back in time to maybe slap some sense into his stupid… stupid boy. Jin Ling's cries became muted as he hid his face in Jiang Cheng’s neck, his nose was hot and tears wet, it reminded Jiang Cheng of when he had first been given the tiny Jin. All Jiang Cheng could do was clench his jaw and hold him like he was the most precious person in the world and truly he was. Closing his eyes he thought back to the worst year of his life, yet from an immediate perspective it could be categorized as simpler times.

Jin Ling’s sobbing was not unlike 14 years ago, when his soft bundle of swaddled blankets was thrusted into Jiang’s Cheng’s eighteen year old arms. The hesitant Jin Guangyao who condoned the trade, had no experience with any baby and was up to his chin in work, so even through all Jiang Cheng's grief he had taken the baby without question. Jin Ling was coliacy, or that's what the wet nurses at Lotus pier had said, the baby would just cry and cry and cry . It would grate on Jiang Cheng’s nerves, but not in the way that most would have thought it would. 

He would just sit in the nursery on a stool opposite of the wall and just feel like a piece of shit, because he couldn’t do anything to comfort his nephew. The wet nurse had offered to put a little bit of alcohol on the baby’s lip to put him to sleep, but alcohol only made Jiang Cheng think of his estranged brother and then they were right back to the beginning. 

One night he vividly remembered, hunched over the wooden crib and feeling himself just cry with Jin Ling. His own tears breaking from the dam to drip down his nose and onto the baby’s silken skin. It was only then that Jin Ling had stopped his wailing and just looked up with these big doe eyes. Jin Ling had done all his crying this past week, that the minute his Uncle was finally broken it seemed like the baby was almost shocked. His sister’s son had unclenched his tiny fist to close around one long tress of Jiang Cheng’s hair that was hanging down in the cradle and tugged it with all his might. As if almost to say, ‘ Uncle, you don’t get to cry! That’s my job! ’

From then, Jiang Cheng had pulled himself together, pushing back most of his mourning to take care of Jin Ling. Still, he wore the white sash for his older sister, and older brother  ( but he didn’t tell anyone that it was for more than just Yanli ) and just allowed himself to block out the waves of grief. Sure, sometimes when he wasn’t thinking he would walk straight into A-Jie’s pavilion that she frequented, or the smell of spicy foods made his eyes water for a whole different reason, but with Jin Ling he was a beautiful light in the inky darkness. He saw Jin Ling as his own son to a point that he almost referred to the boy as such when Jin Guangyao had told him that the young boy was getting bullied for being parentless. He and Jin Ling had a long talk after the news had reached him. That was also the time Jiang Cheng had begged his brother-in-law to give the six year old boy Suihua. The sword had sat around in the Treasure Room since the death of Jin Zixuan, probably collecting dust and getting dull, it would do the blade right to be back in capable hands. 

Jin Guangyao would break after a few days, probably because he was shocked that Jiang Cheng would stoop so low to beg to likes of him, but in the end it was worth it. He got to watch Jin Ling’s arm shake from the heaviness of the blade in his frail hands, his clumsy feet stumbled around as he learned Jiang style combat ( much to Jin Guangyao’s pleasant snarls about Jin Ling, being a Jin and not a Jiang.  ) Even seeing the boy’s eyes light up when he would master a difficult move. Teaching Jin Ling was a highlight to the bleak year that Jiang Cheng had suffered, it was something that distracted him and had benefits! His anger never did subside though, it was something that continued to dwell in the dark pit that was his soul and though sometimes he did lash out on Jin Ling, he found better coping mechanisms. Uh... don't ask what they are, because Jiang Cheng certainly didn't know, but he had developed some betters ones.

Now that Jin Ling was much older, his blade hand strong enough to hold his sword over his head and mastered most of Jiang formations with perfection, he also began to ask questions. Questions that Jiang Cheng wasn’t ready to answer, but he never did want to hold his precious son from, because at the end of the day Jin Ling wasn’t actually his son . So one night he had tried his hand at making lotus root and pork soup and told Jin Ling everything he needed to know. Told him of his beautiful and kind Mother who Jiang Cheng loved so desperately, of the Father that had his arrogant moments, but was also very selfless and forgiving, reluctantly he told Jin Ling of their killer, his brother. Jin Ling hadn’t said much that night, he had sat there and mulled over the soup, stirring his spoon around and eating every last bite, but he looked sick with emotions. 

It wasn’t until the next day that Jin Ling had slept on all the knowledge that he began to ask questions. Why did the Jiang’s take in Wei Wuxian? Who was the Ghost General before he was the Ghost General? What was Mama’s favorite color? The severity of the questions came and went like the frequency of a breeze, but Jiang Cheng never missed a moment to tell Jin Ling the truth. He felt a lot like Lan Wangji, never wanting to speak anything but the truth and that only grated his nerves, because here he was thinking about Lan Wangji .  

He hadn’t even thought about his brother-in-law for a very long time, it would have been about six years since he had tried to kill both Wei Ying and Lan Wangji, after the death of Yanli. His sword had dug into a fragile rock, the one Lan Wangji’s whole body was draped across and if he twisted his sword enough he could have dislodged the large rock. Though, Wei Ying always did have to play the hero, he even had to play it in his own fucking suicide, he had pushed Lan Wangji off his arm and down he fell into the bottomless pit of the Nightless City. Everytime Jiang Cheng went to that same pit, he’d never find those certain bones he wanted so badly. To have a solid form of proof that A-Xian was dead , his corpse decayed and the only thing left was yellow-tinted bones.  All he found was Chenqing, and she wasn’t the proof of Jiang Cheng longed for, he wanted bones . 

Around the time of spring when the clouds finally let up the torrential downpours that winter always brought and the flooding lakes began to heat up from the beating sun. Jiang Cheng had been leafing through his mail when he had gotten a letter from Cloud Recess specifically signed… Lan Xichen. At first he didn’t even want to open it, Xichen had a sharp tongue that expelled pleasantries like a superpower. He was another person that made Jiang Cheng weak in the knees. In the letter it was beautifully scripted and invited Jin Ling to the special lectures that Jiang Cheng had attended in his youth. Though those lessons were helpful and he still used the knowledge he was taught by the old coot that was Lan Qiren, he didn’t want Jin Ling anywhere near Lan Yuan, or what he heard through the grapevine, Lan Sizhui . 

It was a breath of air that his nephew was pronounced alive, his death had taken a toll on Lan Wangji and he couldn’t even fathom the grief that tacked onto it when Wei Ying jumped off the cliff. So, yes, it could be considered a breath of fresh air that A-Yuan was growing up shielded away in the Recess, but it still intruded on a part of Jiang Cheng’s brain that he never wanted to touch. The Jins were ridiculed for being so foolish to believe the demon-blood baby was killed, however, who could be so stupid to believe that the sack of radishes in Wen Qing’s dress was actually a baby? In Jiang Cheng’s mind, the Jins deserved that ridicule. He was glad Sizhui was okay, because first of all he was just a child, he didn’t get to choose who his parents were, but then there would be a bite in his brain that Sizhui was Wei Ying’s son , and it pissed him off. 

It pissed him off so much that two days after the letter was received at Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng had made his first appearance in centuries at Cloud Recess. He had dropped Jin Ling off at Jin Guangyao’s like his Mother used to do to him (this time not Carp Tower, but the MeishanYu Clan) whenever she was upset with Fatherand Jiang Cheng hated the feeling that he was turning into his Mother. However, at some point he had to agree that she was correct in a sense about Wei Ying and it just made him miss her even more. For all the times his Mother was cruel, she was also a very intelligent woman and she would have had so much advice that wouldn’t have led him storming into Cloud Recess. 

The two disciples at the gate had given Jiang Cheng the most perplexed look in the world when he had finally climbed the thousand of stairs of the mountain, Zidian sparking at his hand from the sheer anger of deciding he was going to take the stairs rather than fly his sword. The disciples had flurried inside the Recess while Jiang Cheng had stood awkwardly outside, unsure if he was supposed to follow the Lans or wait until he was greeted. Against his better judgement, he went inside and cautiously took in the state of the Recess. At the start of the Sunshot campaign, he remembered that the Wens had set fire to most of the pavilions, but from the reconstruction, Jiang Cheng was wowed at how accurate every building looked as they used to. In Lotus Pier, they had trouble finding similar woods to the old houses that got destroyed, so there was an obvious difference between what was new and what was old, he found himself making a note that if his meeting with the allusive Lan Wangji went well he’d ask about their reconstruction efforts. Though, his hopes weren’t high at all.  

Walking the familiar white stoned path, Jiang Cheng just got a glimpse of the disciples at the gate zooming in a brisk walk to one of the more hidden paths, so he followed them without thought. It was perfect in situation, because when Jiang Cheng arrived, the disciples had led him straight to Zewu-Jun. The man was beautiful, as most Lans were, with their sculpted faces and perfect noses. What set Xichen apart from his Jade-like appearance, was his handsome placating smile he wore, since the last time Jiang Cheng had seen the older man he had developed defined circles under his eyes. At the side of Xichen, no taller than Liebling itself, was a little Lan gripping the edge of Xichen’s white hanfu in a tiny fist, most of his body hidden away, only his face peeking out the side. The child alone sparked a jolt in Jiang Cheng’s hand and without thinking he began to rub the ring of Zidian. 

"Jiang Waynin,” Lan Xichen said politely, bowing in return of the sect leader, “I would of never thought you would come to visit us in Cloud Recess,” he offered, lowering his palm as if in a silent queue for the little Lan to reach up and grab. The only problem was, the boy’s arm was so short that he just managed to brush the fingertips of Xichen’s hand, and grabbed tight to the two longest fingers. Then in a stubborn fashion, the boy gave Jiang Cheng suspicious eyes, “this Lan Yuan, courtesy name Lan Sizhui, surely  you remember him? ” 

Of course, Xichen would bite at him! Jiang Cheng, though was trying his best to play along innocently, would never fail to recognize the pair of rare Lan-Gold eyes that Wei Ying would go on and on and on about. It only made sense that Sizhui would have inherited Wangji’s eyes… ‘go figure’ , Jiang Cheng thought. Who cares about eye color anyway, it’s not like it was a personality trait. Those Lan gentry were probably so conceited in themselves that it would not surprise Jiang Cheng if they did a dance outside the delivery room when their offspring came out with goldbar irises. Set that brat up for life!

It hurt, to put it bluntly, Jiang Cheng tried not to flinch, but he did poor work, because Xichen looked much more tired with the information off his chest. “I wish to talk to Lan Wangji,” he said simply, not wanting to reveal anything else, but Xichen just raised his brow. 

Though Jiang Cheng may have had a little ( little ) crush on Lan Xichen growing up that had succeeded into his adult life, he wanted to sock that pretentious man in his perfect jaw so badly. Through time they fallen out of touch, it gave Xichen enough time to grow a backbone to start being just as petty as his brother,  which, by all means, good for him , but not in the context that he was mean to Jiang Cheng. “Baba-'' the little high-pitched voice beside Xichen spoke and it had startled both clan leaders. Sizhui was wringing the sleeves of his hanfu between his small fingers anxiously (but also in an adorable fashion.) Sizhui stubbornly pouted at the floor stepping toe to toe, “Baba.. is resting right now, he shouldn’t be bothered!” The boy chastised scrunching his nose up in a fashion so similar to Wei Ying it was starting to become a stab wound in Jiang Cheng’s lungs.

“A-Yuan,” Xichen didn’t sound very scolding, he almost sounded amused as he petted the top of the boy's head with a warm smile, “Jiang Waynin is your uncle.”

Fuck.

Jiang Cheng did not want to be the Uncle of the spawn Wei Wuxian created, but Xichen was just going to stab him in every which way possible, “this man was close with your Mother, they were brothers at one point.” 

“Like how Baba and you are brothers?” Six year old Sizhui’s golden eyes widened, staring up at Xichen with intense focus. Jiang Cheng noted in his head that no one on planet earth could be as close as the Twin Jades, Wei Ying and he had tried it, the Twin Heroes of Yummeng. Also known as the biggest shit show to hit Lotus Pier. 

“No...not exactly, but it was something like that.” Xichen hummed, his fingers brushing Sizhui’s small cheek.

Damn .

Xichen was practically gleaming in that moment and Jiang Cheng felt his heart flutter. The young boy relaxed once more, and quieted himself behind Xichen. The clan leader seemed unphased by his nephew’s actions. Maybe even a little bit endeared.   

Though, if Xichen didn’t start moving, Jiang Waynin was really going to punch him. “Yes,” he narrowed his eyes at the man, crush be damn , and crouched down to Sizhui’s height, trying to meet his gaze though Xichen's hanfu did well at hiding him. His brain offered to imagine the boy as Jin Ling, but came to the conclusion that it couldn’t when he felt like he was staring into Wei Ying’s gentle face. “Me and your Mother were once great friends,” he bluffed ( great friends his ass, suffocate and die again Wei Ying ,) “but please… I have to talk to your Baba, about the lectures you are attending.” 

Sizhui took a moment to ponder his words before he had responded with a short, shy but quick nod of his head at the same time Xichen had said a flat, “ oh. That’s why. ” Jiang Cheng being scrutinized even harder as Xichen had finally decided he was done poking fun at all the deep crevices Jiang Cheng had in his soul. 

The trio had walked the four short steps towards the sliding entrance, but just as Jiang Cheng made a move to open the door. There again was Sizhui, incredibly little, shy and so easy to step on . Stuck his stubby little hand quickly to the door, stopping Jiang Cheng. The Yunmeng leader looked down and was met with a clear pinched face. “ Shhh! You must be very quiet!” If his face didn't express it enough, the little Lan pressed his index finger to his lips, only letting go of the door when Jiang Cheng acknowledged his words. From the corner of his eye, he knew Xichen was smirking, ( or smiling gently, damn he couldn't tell ) at Sizhui’s loyalty to his Father’s condition for recovery.  However, Jiang Cheng didn’t want to be quiet, quite the opposite actually. The monologue in his head was filled with bold letters and underlined characters about how Sizhui was to be nowhere near Jin Ling, but as he opened up the doors he found himself growing mute. 

The Jingshi was dark, all the paper curtains drawn except for one that just allowed a sliver of light to cast a sword cut across the bed and floor. Jiang Cheng had only seen the man standing tall and threatening, Lan Wangji was now laying stomach down on the cot in the room. There was a thin blanket over the middle of his spine, but a keen eye could pick up the peeking scars on his back. It was supposed to be a secret of why Lan Wangji went into seclusion, but because the Jins were so closely involved in the situation, Jiang Cheng had got most of the information wrung out of Jin Guangyao. 

Lan Wangji was whipped thirty-three times with a bullwhip, something that Jiang Cheng was familiar with in his youth from his Mother, but never to the degree of how many strikes Wangji had suffered. He felt bad, but only for a little as he reminded himself of why he was here in the first place. There were two stools beside the cot and basin of water with a cloth on the floor by the foot of the bed. Jiang Cheng kicked the bucket away from the stools and sat heavily on the chair. 

“Jiang Waynin,” Lan Wangji’s voice was hoarse, sounding as if he had gotten over a serious illness, which was sort of true in a sense. The man’s golden eyes were dull in color and his cheek was pressed into the mattress, Jiang Cheng not missing the way the man’s fist tightly gripped at the sheets. “Why did you come.” Just as the words left the dying prick’s mouth, Sizhui had burst through the doors as if to save his Father from the supervillain that was Jiang Cheng. However, what the boy didn’t realize is that Jiang Cheng hadn’t hit that fucking arc yet, thank you very much. 

“ Sizhui! ” Xichen stepped inside the room, grasping the collar of Sizhui’s robe and easily picking him up in a one arm cradle, silently walking away. Wangji spared a glance at the door, giving this dumb smirk that he use to do whenever Wei Ying would do something stupid that somehow became endearing to the other. Jiang Cheng never knew why the reason Lan Wangji got his kicks with his brother, but the sex had to be good for him to stick around..

....Really. good.

They had a kid, damnit.

They stared at each other, Jiang Cheng waiting for some kind of apology since Sizhui basically broke in, but Lan Wangji just stared at him with cold, dead fish eyes. Damnit, back to the regularly scheduled program he guessed, ‘why was he here?’ a question that had a simple, no shit attached answer. Lan Wangji’s was just that type of person, no beating around the bush, that was probably the only reason Jiang Waynin could possibly find something that redeemed Lan Wangji from his high ranking of least liked cultivators. His relationship with his deceased brother always outliered him before he was taken from his rightful place at first. “Cloud Recess is upholding it’s yearly lectures...” 

“Mn.” The man said simply in acknowledgement, it made Jiang Cheng want to throw the stool he was sitting on at the wall. 

“You invited Jin Ling,” he paused, “no let me rephrase that, you let your brother invite Jin Ling? ” Jiang Cheng fought every urge to grab the man’s hair and pull him to meet his eyes. Or maybe suffocate him with his pillow.

Lan Wangji sent him a bored look, or as bored as a man developing bed sores could look, “Jin Ling is of age to attend the lectures,” he closed his eyes, squeezing them together as if to show he was wracking through a tight pinch of pain, he was out of breath for the next sentence, “I don’t control my brother, neither do you.” 

“You would let Jin Ling be taught in the same class as your bastard son, possibly allowing the little snake to make relationships with A-Ling?!” He knew he was shouting, but Xichen could kiss his polished ass later about it. 

“Never a snake.” Lan Wangji had the decency to look a little pained from all the noise, “there is nothing to say that they won’t just avoid each other. Do not catastrophize the situation.” 

“Do not lecture me about that,” Jiang Cheng snapped hotly, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up from another grown adult trying to lecture him. He couldn’t find out how to tell Jin Ling to avoid his cousin, it was a very long conversation about accidental pregnancy and false deaths that he could already feel Lan Wangji’s migraine transferring itself toward him. “I won’t have a man who can’t stand on his own tell me what I can and cannot do.” Or better yet he wouldn't have a man that couldn't even be a father to his own son, tell him what to do with his young one. 

The piercing glare Jiang Cheng got was enough to warrant a score in his book that he was able to insult Lan Wangji into speechlessness, not a petty comment on his tongue. “I can stand by myself just fine,” he started venomously, trying to validate himself, to no avail as he made no effort to prove himself. “I also won’t have Sizhui’s learning of what never should concern him. When the time is right, it will be my decision to tell him of Wei Ying. What has been done, has been done.” 

“How can you say that, ‘time is right ’ bullshit...I just saw your son hiding behind Xichen solely of his own fear and you think he will ever be ready? Jin Ling is three months younger than him and already knows so much!” Jiang Cheng knew he was fluffing up like an angry cat, “his parent’s death is a very current topic to be discussed and concerns him greatly.” 

“Sizhui also,” Lan Wangji's voice cut off, a quiver just heard barely as he stumbled over his words, “-lost his mother and it concerns him greatly as well. I however don’t want to dwell on the past, because it leads to a toxic attitude. Just look at yourself Jiang-zōng zhǔ..” 

Give it up for the Lans, ladies and gentlemans! The pettiest person in the whole goddamn world, they know how to push until they couldn’t push anymore and Jiang Cheng could feel hot tears on his cheeks. Fuck Lan Wangji, fuck him to the moon and back, Jiang Cheng hopes he dies from those stupid whip wounds. How dare he insult Jin Ling and himself to his face, not only that but how he chose to raise Jin Ling... that was the lowest blow . Jiang Cheng stood up and kicked the stool in, creating an ear piercing scrape across the glossy floors. Lan Wangji flinched, his frail hand came up to holding his head in pain from the harsh noise. “You are just as evil as your wife ,” Jiang Cheng didn’t miss the furious fire in Wangji’s eyes and he was glad, be angry you prick , “how about I threaten you instead, If Sizhui says anything to Jin Ling, I’ll finish the job that the Jins were too stupid to do.” 

Lan Wangji nearly threw himself out of bed towards Jiang Cheng, but didn't make it very far. The loud skid of the stool and the shift in the cot on the floor, brought the hovering shadow of Xichen closer to the door. Jiang Cheng knew he was playing the line of threatening words, very dangerously. So instead he stayed quiet.

Sticking his nose up, Jiang Waynin wanted to stomp his foot into the asshole’s back, he wanted to make him feel enough pain for the both of them. He wanted to start destroying the Quiet Room, because he knew Lan Wangji couldn’t stand up and stop him. Then as he stepped forward, hand ready to strike the whip wounds... his brain flashed an image across the room. It was an apparition (or maybe hallucination), but Jiang Cheng froze as he saw his brother standing in the dark corner of the room, close to the small crib that was certainly Sizhui’s. Wei Ying had his hands clasped together at his stomach, clad in the same outfit from when he killed himself. The expensive silks he was supposed to wear to Jin Ling’s one month ceremony and his long hair was laying flat against his head. Even if his brother looked like his brother, the real person was actually, incredibly so, dead. Leave it to Jiang Cheng’s trauma, fucked up brain to materialize an image of his brother when he was ready to do something immoral. Wei Ying, the specter, gave him a sharp, closed off look, hands not even lifting from his stomach to stop his brother, but it was as if his presence alone was enough to shatter all the anger currently festering within him. The fucked up part about the whole thing, is that it was enough . 

Gently, he lowered his hand back to his side, eyes never leaving his brother’s figure. “Jiang Waynin,” Lan Wangji’s real voice pulled him away from the figure in the room and when he looked back up Wei Ying was nowhere to be seen. Of course his brother wouldn’t stay long, spirit or not, he cared a lot more for Lan Wangji than he did about his brother. “No man chooses evil because it’s evil,” he looks up, lips pursed, “he only mistakes it for happiness, because he was trying to seek the good.” 

“Then it wasn’t good enough,” Jiang Waynin had fled the room, his skin prickling like lightning as he slammed the Jingshi door shut, pressing his back to the rice paper and letting himself slide to the floor. He was so tired and he didn’t need Lan Wangji to be cryptic to make him feel worse than usual. Jiang Cheng could only imagine a hundred reasons why he saw Wei Ying… He knew better than anyone that Wei Ying would want the boys to be close, and Jiang Cheng wouldn't, couldn’t, be sorry for the decision he made. Damn what a dead man wanted anyway. He was the only thing Jin Ling had left.  

He was pissed at himself, for almost hitting an already down man, for stalling when he saw a hallucination of his brother, even mad at himself for the reason why he was here in the first place. Knowing that the year later when Jin Ling had arrived at the lectures as the youngest disciple and a chip on his shoulder, he did exactly what Jiang Cheng had predicted. The awkward tea chat, Jin Ling’s hatred, everything leading up to the moment right now. 

All their dominos lined up so they could knock them down and then someone added kerosin and set the dominos on fire. Now that would be enough to explain the current situation. Jin Ling had stopped his crying, but he obviously wasn’t done, he was just resting his head heavily on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with rapid breathing. Su She came back through the mirror, looking to be hiding the limp in his leg as he bowed towards Jin Guangyao who was pacing a hole into the floor. “They got away, all of the Lans,” Su She informed, leaning heavily against one of the bookshelves so he would be off his shattered ankle.

Jin Guangyao didn’t sigh, nor throw the fit that Jiang Cheng had imagined in his head, he simply raised a hand to fix his crooked hat, smoothing his fingers down the dramatic gold string that connected it to his chin and corrected himself with a pleasant, fuming smile. “Our Jin Ling had already stabbed and killed Sizhui, all we have to do is go for Wei Wuxian next. We should be thanking him!” 

Jiang Cheng pressed the boy tighter to chest, feeling himself grow with hackles as Jin Ling had already calmed down and was now brought back in the throws of sobbing. “I killed him?” a little voice, no louder than a whisper made its way in his ear and immediately Jiang Cheng had to hold in his own tears. 

“No, no,” he hissed, sending a vicious glare to Jin Guangyao. This had gone on for too long. Jiang Cheng hated his brother, he hated him for his selfless actions and forever for their fucked up childhood, but Jin Ling had just stabbed a kid, his childish anger could wait for one minute, “Lan Yuan is a Wei, those bastards never die.” Jin Ling let out a choked whine that divulged into another wave of hot tears, Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure if they were tears of relief or anger of his actions, but nonetheless he smoothed a comforting hand down the boy’s head. 

“What are you doing,” Jin Guangyao had his spats with Jiang Cheng since… forever and somehow even in the worst days did they always come back to fighting about how to raise Jin Ling. “A-Ling,” he cooed and Jiang Cheng grasped his beloved nephew and hid him behind his back. Guangyao’s hand was raised in the air, frozen from where he was ready to pet the younger’s head,  “A-Ling you just killed the spawn of the person who killed your parents! You have been waiting for years to do this! Remember in the court yard when you use to imagine your enemies as the malevolent Yiling Patriarch-”

“Shut up,” If Lan Xichen got to bring Jin Guangyao down a peg, Jiang Cheng got to do it too. He was through with letting that gold colored prick manipulate Jin Ling. In all honesty, Jin Zixuan had been demoted to like number four of his least liked Cultivators by Guangyao at three. (Lan Wangji was number one, remember) “yeah, my brother has done some really messed up shit, cry me a fucking river Guangyao , but you forget A-Ling is a boy! He’s fourteen years old! He just stabbed his cousin, he wouldn’t be celebrating no matter what!” 

“When you killed Wei Wuxian didn’t you celebrate,” Jin Guangyao words were carefully decided, like a precise snake ready to strike on its prey, “you’re going to confuse poor Jin Ling with all these contradicting statements.” 

They stared off, Jiang Cheng feeling a spark between the two of them. Jin Ling squeezed his hands tightly into Jiujiu’s robes, hiding even further behind when his gaze met the other. “He’s scared of you,” Jiang Cheng mustered with an arrogant smile filling his cheeks, “you know, Jin Guangshan was a really shitty person, but he was right to not let you hold A-Ling when he was infant. That man may have been a perverted piece of shit, but he could sniff out bad blood.” 

“Oh sure,” The other stated blandly, like how someone remarks that there will be rain later in the day, “comparing my blood to Lan Yuan’s blood is surely a stretch, Sect Leader Jiang, and if you want to continue our talk about how terrible my father was,” Guangyao put a delicate hand on rise of his chest, “then I hope that you check yourself first, because from what I heard… didn’t your father also love your brother a lot more than he loved you.” 

Jiang Cheng found himself unclenching his jaw, his back molars pinched in pain from how hard he was grinding them down, “My relationship with my brother and my father is none of your damn business. I think if Jin Zixuan would have had it his way, he would've left you all golden obsessed pricks if he could. After his death, Jin Ling was more my nephew than yours-- you are the true bastard!” 

During the conversation they had in the Treasure Room, before Wei Ying’s identity was revealed, Jin Guangyao had a lot to say about Mo Xuanyu, so in the boy's honor Jiang Cheng felt like it was right to bring up the other’s past. The ambitious line in Jin Guangyao’s back broke, his shoulders falling and hands limply loosening at the side of his waist. “Jin Ling,” Jiang Cheng turned, grasping the boy by the shoulder, “it’s your duty to make amends with your cousin and I don’t care how long it takes you, because if you come back without doing what I told you, this one time… ” he paused, feeling a small smile on his face, “I’ll break your legs,” he promised. 

Jin Ling looked at his bloody hands and back at his Uncle’s face, not even sparing Jin Guangyao his time, “yes, Jiujiu,” he nodded stiffly, picking up Suihua off the ground. Jiang Cheng felt Zidian spark at his finger as he whipped the hand of Su She who tried to grab Jin Ling while he was making his exit. Jiang Cheng took a few steps before his foot stepped on discarded hair comb. Gently he leaned down, just taunting Su She knowing his back was open, but the man wouldn’t hit him. Lifting up the glossy brown comb, he traced the bristles until he got to the gap of missing teeth. 

"A-Xian! It’s your very own comb, isn’t it pretty!” 

“Shije! It’s beautiful!” 

Jiang Cheng clenched his hand around the comb, closing his eyes and hearing his brother’s voice echo loudly for the first time in years. 

“Jiang Cheng! Think of it, the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng!”

With a flash he opened his eyes’ sending a hot glare to Jin Guangyao, much in childish anger he struck the bookshelf Su She was leaning against just to watch that man tumble to the ground with an unmanly screech. ‘ Yeah, I still got it, ’ he thought with a smirk, feeling his shoulders strut in a God awful way, he stalked out of the Treasure Room. 

Since day one, Yanli had always preached about the importance of family and how they should stick together. Here he was sitting with his thumb up his ass not even attempting to fulfill her dying wish. So Wei Ying had done some stuff that was unquestionable, it doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be forgiven. Anger was temporary, he told himself rubbing Zidian as he passed through the mirror, out of the chaotic room. Grief was also temporary and as he turned his head towards the sunset on horizon, he felt confident enough for the first time not to look back at what was behind him. He had a lot of both grief and anger, but he could still try to fix his stunted relationship with his stupid, good for nothing, but had his ( short ) redeeming moments...brother. The best way for him to do that was to declare loyalty to family, not public face as clan leader Yao once told him in his youth, ‘ he must save face ’. No, now it was time to fight for Yunmeng, for Yanli his sister, Jin Ling his nephew, Wei Ying his brother, and Sizhui...his nephew. And Lan Wangji, fucker.  

So spot number two on the Least Liked Cultivator list, get ready to meet your brand new tenant Jin Guangyao, because he was throwing Wei Ying off the list. ( Lan Wangji was sitting cozy at first.... Is that a new daybed?! You really know how to decorate, you Lan Prick ) At the end of the day, Wei Ying was his brother, the one who patched up his knees when he fell, the one who teased him enough that he was crying his eyes out, and also the very brother that had been so distraught over purely family ...jumped off a cliff after the death of their sister. He was still his older brother, blood be damned.

Jiang Cheng thought to himself as he boarded his sword fully intending on riding to Gusu. 

“Keep fighting for life Sizhui and for now let Jiujiu fight the battles you can not.” 

__❀___

Wei Ying has come to the conclusion that when there is light- ( beautiful, warm, seeing ) light, there was always going to be a shadow. When the days were so bright and cheerful, inky swirls of death lingered behind rocks and trees, as if a predator ready to jump on their prey. The light to Wei Ying was his son, seeing his baby after so many years of walking forever and searching to only find himself right back where he was needed. There was a thrum in his body, for every time a push of gore erupted on his hand, he was ready to combat the shadows ready to consume his son. It was as if they were on a tightrope together, hand and hand, toe to toe, looking into each other’s eyes.  Delicately being each other's spotter for any moment that could go wrong. When Sizhui would lose his balance, Wei Ying was there to grasp him standing upright, because that’s what he should have been doing all along. It was his duty, as a mother to his son, to be there for him every step and stumble on the thin rope that was journey of maturity. It was his job to make the hard decisions, to take the responsibility for his son and make it his priority. 

And yet, wasn’t he failing already. When Lan Zhan touched down at Cloud Recess, it was a tough landing to be described at best as they stumbled down the short path and into the house. Lan Zhan took no time banging around all the furniture with uncharacteristic lack of composure. Wei Ying couldn’t do anything and it was beating him up inside as Sizhui was pressed into his awaiting arms so Lan Zhan could strip the bed of the comforter and pillows to make it better to treat their son. Pressing Sizhui close into his chest, Wei Ying could see Lan Zhan’s emotions written into his son’s features- the anger, the fear, the anxiety, just overflowing through his cold exterior. 

“I c-can’t b-breathe!...” Wei Ying’s mother-like gentleness communicated heavily through the action of pushing Sizhui’s hair away from his eyelashes that were fighting to choose whether they wanted to open or closed. Sizhui’s breaths getting sharper and choked as if he couldn't catch them and Wei Ying continued to hush his son, closing his own eyes to avoid seeing his son’s face.

When the bed was finally stripped, the sheets crumpled in a ball in the corner, Wei Ying reluctantly let his feet carry him to the daybed. Though he put so much effort in making the exchange as painless as it could be-- even going as far as to emanate shushing noises from his own quivering lips--  he moved Sizhui closer to the sheets. His hushing brought no avail, as the boy let out a shriek of pain, a gasp of breath, with fingers clasping on Wei Ying's shoulder and his nails digging crescents into the skin. The young father who stood anxiously next to his lover, felt his hands seize up at the sound of his son’s agony. Lan Zhan’s palm though still acted as a support for Sizhui, bringing him that much closer to the bed. Wei Ying felt his heart shatter as soon as Sizhui’s body touched the white cot, however the young heir clung onto his mother’s black wool hanfu. Biting his lip and closing his eyes, Wei Ying had to pry his son’s hands from his shoulder. He averted his gaze away from his son’s pleading face and he took the hair ribbon from his ponytail, individually tying Sizhui’s wrists to either side of the cot. They laid perfectly flat at his side, so he couldn’t hurt himself flailing around or make it harder for his Father to reach the stab wound. 

“F-Father...I’m s-sorry! Make it stop please!”  Sizhui’s feverish mind spoke for him. 

“Sizhui. Father is here, listen to my voice, Father is here.”

It was then that Wei Wuxian began counting his breaths. Every inhale and exhale, not only for himself but for his son. He felt his fringe flutter in front of his eyes as he took a shaking breath, not realizing his grip hadn't left Sizhui’s forearm. To anyone else, it would have looked like he had been praying over his body, but in all actuality, he just couldn’t move. Reality in its most cruel state however, demanded he act quickly and not rest on his emotions. Like the crack of a whip, his husband’s voice broke his bubble of consternation.

“I’ll take care of the wound, you hold him still,” Lan Zhan's voice was a cut through the chaos, and for a moment Wei Ying questioned how he could be so focused when their son was dying right before them. Maybe it was because Lan Zhan refused to accept Sizhui dying that it was easy to ignore the concept, if it wasn't even a possibility. For Wei Ying it was indeed a broken melody in his head, tormenting him every single millisecond. 

'He’s dying! He’s dying! You asked for life! Wei Wuxian! Did you forget Reincarnation comes with a price? The hero must pay his price’ the voice sounded oddly like Jiang Cheng, taunting him the same way he had done at the lip of the cliff's edge. Always one to jump to conclusions and get angry when the moment called for calmness. In every picture Jiang Cheng attempted to paint his brother, willing to strike out with words, he had created Wei Ying in the story’s of Theseus . The man that slayed the minotaur, saving his people and yet when he returned he was exiled for his efforts. Wei Ying may have seen himself as a hero, yet as the score went; until the lions learned to write, the people will always take the hunter’s side. Forever shamed and disgraced for his actions. 

“Wei Ying...I need you---” 

'Look! See what you have done, reap what you have sewn Wei Wuxian!’ It was painful how the voice rang in his head, like a death knell.

“Wei Ying! Look at me!” in an instant the condemning voice had disappeared and the black spots in Wei Ying’s vision vanished as he met Lan Zhan’s gaze, his lover gripping his shoulders tightly, slightly shaking him. Wei Wuxian felt his eyes go wide, and his face freeze, he knew tears were pooling strictly because of fear. His hands curled in front of him like a child, yet the only difference was, his hands couldn't stop shaking. “Wei Ying...I need you to hold him...keep him awake. Don’t let him give into sleep…” Wei Ying’s own thoughts were so muddled, his own chest failed to rise and fall. Lan Zhan knew from the petrified look plastered on Wei Ying’s face that the words were not registering. “A-Ying…” Lan Zhan leaned forward into Wei Ying’s space to kiss him so hard on the lips he nearly stumbled backwards. It wasn’t a needy kiss, nor was it one that demanded the heat of pleasure, it was like a chaste touch of support. The Second Jade of Lan felt his wife’s tears drip and his lips shake during the quick embrace. He brought their hands together in his kneeled lap to squeeze quickly barely hearing the whispering plea shutter over the thin air..

“Lan Zhan..I...We..can’t lose him…” Wei Ying whispered over a hushed tone just as their foreheads separated. 

“We won’t. He’s our son, Our strength is in his blood.” Lan Zhan squeezed reassurance through their grip, lighting a fire within Wei Wuxian that he would do anything and everything to keep Sizhui alive. In the seconds, both parents went to work, emotions be damned. Wei Ying climbed onto the bed, lifting up Sizhui’s head and crawled under him so his son’s upper body was rested in his lap, his legs running downwards the length of the boy’s body. “Yuan...A-Yuan...look at mother, open your eyes..” With his free clammy hand, Wei Ying rested it on his son’s chin, lingering on the skin to trace every mole on his face. Lan Zhan had a blemish free white face, but Wei Ying found a hidden bubble of happiness on the day he found that his son inherited his light freckles. Tracing the sprinkle of color like they were the constellations in the sky, a wave of sadness washed over his whole body. 

He was losing his son, again , but Wei Ying didn’t allow himself to weep. He let the blurry garnet gem eyes lock with the pained golden one's and pretended like they were just resting in the Bunny Field. A moment yet to be lived, yet perfectly real in Wei Ying’s mind. He imagined that the blood on Sizhui’s cheek was just ink; it was an unconscious behavior that he wet his thumb with his lip and rubbed it off. Wei Ying’s mind continued to fill in the spaces that the ink left untouched in his head. Sizhui had been so careless to let it splash him while he studied talismans with his Great Uncle. Walking home completely unaware that there was ink under his cheekbones. With a growing pit in his chest, Wei Ying allowed himself to dream so he wouldn’t lose himself to the sorrows. 

Lan Wangji on the other hand was making quick work on Sizhui’s hanfu. He found himself pausing when he realized his son wasn’t wearing his outer robe, nor his jade coin that dangled from his belt, he allowed himself to promise that when this was all over, and it would be over without any death, to replace the missing pieces of his son's Lan identity. When he got to the boy’s shirt, he gently pulled at the silk fabric that clung to the wound and then eagerly discarded the heavy item to the floor. 

The wound was angry, deep and profusely flooding with blood. Peeling away Sizhui’s shirt in a way was like breaking a dam to a reservoir. 

“ Brother? ” Xichen came bumbling through the door, a large amount of towels stacked in his hand while Jingyi was holding a large bucket of water in his arms. "Wangji! What can I do?" The young boy was apprehensive at the threshold of the door, it wasn’t until Xichen had motioned for him to come along. Jingyi was frozen, his eyes wide, staring at the body of his own lover, pale and twisting in front of him. 

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly in disdain, not hiding the frustratin that was already written all over his face for Sizhui’s supposed second in command's sudden presence. Jingyi’s lack of urgency towards his master made Lan Zhan’s eye twitch. “If you wait, your procrastination will take him,” the blunt Hanguang-Jun growled, peeling his eyes away from Jingyi to begin showing Xichen what they needed to do. 

Jingyi immediately found panic coursing through his body at the talk of time. If they truly were bent in submission to the never ending will of time, Jingyi then quickly's entered and put down the bucket on the floor and took one of the small towels from Xichen. He splashed himself as he thrusted it into the warm water. Without thinking he motioned to put the soaking towel on Sizhui’s forehead, but a hand blocked him quickly. Looking up, Jingyi knew his face was quivering, ready to break. He met Lan Furen’s eyes and found his grip tightening on the towel.

Xichen had once said to Jingyi that it wasn’t that he was loud or careless, even when sometimes he was those things, it was just because he cared so deeply. His emotions were loud, the type that took time to cultivate into being sedated, but it was never a bad thing about his character. Xichen had actually said it was what made him such a good candidate for being Sizhui’s second in command. Where his best friend and lover's personality was anaylitical, stubborn, and warped with emotions. Jingyi was confrontational, boisterous, and empathetic, they would work like gears connected through the teeth, moving in tandem. 

“ Sweetheart ,” Sizhui’s mother’s voice was a summery warmth, his larger hand incased Jingyi’s wet wrist, a type of firm hold that held him from waterboarding Sizhui, “maybe you should step outside, you’re not meant to see this.” he offered gently, glancing down to Lan Wangji who narrowed his eyes. 

It was like a dawning sun of horror, Jingyi feeling his heart drop in his chest. Heavy water drops were slipping down his hand and splatting on the floor like condensed blood. “No-!” he cut himself off at the harsh tone, dropping the rag like it burned him down into the water bucket, “no I have to be here,” he demanded, “Lan Furen I have to be here, Sizhui is my best friend!” 

Wei Ying cringed just a hint at the title Jingyi thrusted on him, it had been over a decade since anyone had called him that. In the early years of his pregnancy and shotgun marriage with Lan Zhan, his place in Cloud Recess had always been up for discussion by every elder and more importantly his new Uncle-in-law. Nobody had used a title to address him, because in their eyes he had defiled their perfect Jade. He is reminded of a time that Lan Furen was first used, he had gotten in a fight with Lan Zhan in the early morning, before the sun had even started to rise. Over something trivial and stupid, to be more specific, the fact that Wei Ying had spent the entire day in the market, from sunrise to sunset and by the time he returned to the Jingshi, was terribly exhausted. Lan Zhan of course wanted to respond in kind, but his silence that occurred when trying to process how to better explain himself, made Wei Ying feel isolated. Therefore leading to an argument completely based on both their miscommunication.

Wei Ying, being himself, had to flee from the suffocating energy that squeezed the room, hiding in the back hills where he thought nobody would find him so he could think clearly. That plan was squashed, because a mass of little Lans all equipped with bows and arrows were going out to practice archery. The teacher was a younger disciple, around the age Sizhui was now, he had bowed so low Wei Ying was afraid he was going to kotow, but it was his words that had struck him to the core. Lan Furen… Madam Lan……. Ew. That meant he was a part of the Lan bloodline, which don’t get him wrong he was technically a Lan now, and a gentry Lan at that, but ew . He didn’t want a title so regal, it didn’t even fit his personality. A part of him questioned if he deserved the title, considering he’s the reason Gusu Lan may lose their one heir currently. Nonetheless he let go of his wrist to grasp Jingyi’s shoulder tightly, “I’m saying you should step outside, because Sizhui is your best friend.” 

Jingyi shook his head, his ponytail hitting the side of his cheek every time he went through the intervals. He could feel tears pricking in his eyes at the thought of not being there for Sizhui. They were supposed to be together forever! He loved Sizhui! He loved him so much that the thought of losing the only person he cared for was like a hot iron to his chest, “Lan Jingyi,” Lan Wangji eyes flitted from the wound, fingers pulling the severed piece of skin together, “ leave. now. ” he demanded. 

Jingyi stood firm and even though the whole room could practically feel and hear the venom in Lan Zhan’s words, no one moved a muscle. Jingyi wouldn't move a muscle, on this he couldn't, within him it would feel like the ultimate betrayal if he were to leave Sizhui now, he couldn't even remember the last thing he said to those bright golden eyes...he needed one more chance to remember what those words could be. 

“Jingyi,” Xichen picked up, already finding solace for his young disciple, “you could possibly guard the door, Jiang Waynin was not far off when I left Carp Tower,” he paused as he found the string buried in one of the medical kits he was rummaging through, “you were Sizhui’s second in command, I’ve trained you for this moment.” 

“Were?!” Jingyi's voice was choked even if he was trying to stay strong, he turned to Wei Wuxian and found those same all-seeing grey eyes. He felt so small in the man’s gaze, “I am still his second in command!” he hissed hotly, “it’s my job to protect him and I failed…  I’ve failed so many times this past week and look what I let happen. W-We were supposed to be together...” 

“Jingyi...you didn't fail him, none of this is your fault, young one. The one thing you can do for him now is to know when to step back.” Xichen soothed. 

“I won’t” Jingyi affirmed, his hands shaking as he reached forward dropping the towel and instead clutched the unbuttoned lapel of his injured lover. Jingyi fought with every second and internally demanded that Sizhui open his eyes, begging for those honey-colored irises to open. His quivering breath of words only seemed to echo in their shared space. Yet everyone in the room knew what he said and could feel his regret like it was a boulder on their own back. Looking down at Sizhui’s contorted face, he dared to reach up his hand to brush his cheek. Feeling overwhelmed he turned his head over his shoulder to gaze at the Lan clan leader. “I can’t step down, Zewu-Jun…” Jingyi looked back at Sizhui’s face and caught the split moment, where he relaxed into his palm only to be seized once more within the next second. “ I can’t-- he’s everything! I just-”

When Lan Wangji's voice, with the coldness of an ice storm said, “ leave, ” Wei Ying cut him off with a quick, “Wait!” Everyone did as such, curious eyes lifting to the man currently cradling his dying son to his chest. “Lan Zhan,” he whispered, “let him stay,” Jingyi’s heart swelled in his chest as he excitedly turned to Wei Wuxian, or Lan Furen, he wasn’t sure what to call Sizhui’s Mother. Lan Wangji looked peeved, his eyebrows furrowing in an angry fashion, before he met the flash of his wife's soothing eyes. A gentle coaxing hand as they seemed to hold an entire conversation with only one long gaze. “If you’re going to stay, come here let me show you what to do.” 

“Yes, Lan Furen,” Jingyi bowed, “thank you Lan Furen, thank you.” 

Lan Wangji looked down at the gaping wound held together in his hands and back at Wei Ying who was instructing Jingyi to wring out the rag into the large basin beside the bed. “It’s been a long time since we both heard that title,” Xichen’s voice had startled Lan Wangji briefly, his head shooting up in an uncharacteristic jump, his brother smiled sadly bumping their shoulders so he could get closer to the stab wound and begin to stitch it up. 

Now as he sewed Sizhui’s stomach he confronted the old owner of the title Lan Furen, having been given to none other than Wei Ying himself. It made Xichen want to laugh, in a horror stricken way, since the last person who had taken that title was his Mother. Wangji had the same pale expression, fingers curling in Sizhui’s side as he looked at Wei Wuxian’s face, trying not to think about the other being the kindest person both brothers ever knew. It was no surprise that Wangji was careful at comparing Wei Ying and Mother, since the trauma of both their deaths still felt so raw to him. 

Wangji forever battled bringing Wei Ying back to Cloud Recess, only successfully bringing him back for a few months when he was pregnant with Sizhui. It ended in a trip to the Carp Tower and questions of his friend Wen Ning. That was a hard thing to face, for Wangji who was distraught about his pregnant lover and fear of Jiang Cheng who was out for blood, it was a tense time. 

Jingyi was trying to keep himself busy letting Lan Furen move his hand every which way, but he was almost surprised that Xichen had known how to sew up a wound. From birth, Jingyi had always seen the Jades as the type of people who would never get themselves dirty, but watching Xichen hard at work with blood spilling past his thin nimble fingers. If he wasn’t a clan leader he would surely have been a good doctor. Hypothetically they could have gone to the infirmary, though Xichen already knew his brother was going to the Jingshi. After Wangji’s punishment, those where trained in medicine in Gusu helped the best they could, but also they didn’t to a certain degree. Uncle had been cruel in his forward sailing of teaching Wangji a lesson although, Xichen would argue that instead of a lesson, Wangji developed a further distrust. 

After his arrival to the Jingshi, Xichen insisted they bring Sizhui to the infirmary instead of leaving it up to the brother’s own knowledge of medicine, but Lan Zhan had forbade him from bringing Sizhui there. Purely on his own issues with those who practiced there, Xichen quickly receiving the story of how his beloved nephew’s face was bludgeoned to the floor by older disciples after Wangji left, told by none other than Jingyi. Sizhui was only saved minutes before he got any further permanent injuries by a curious Jingyi who just finished packing their bags. Xichen had stopped piling his arms with towels to turn and stare down his disciple in a look of horror, nodding that Sizhui was staying far, far away from the infirmary.

It was as if it was the intense wind before the hurricane. Xichen stepped away from the wound with his bloody hands searching for a towel to wipe away the dripping crimson. Lan Wangji was cleaning the area with the water, careful around the newly formed stitches, but as they looked to Sizhui they could see he was still in pain. His eyelids had long fluttered shut, but even from behind closed eyelids Wei Ying could tell that Sizhui’s eyes were darting back and forth wildly.  

“Shh Yuan...shh you're alright” Wei Ying felt his heart drop, gently cradling his son’s face towards his chest as a spasm made its way through the young Lan’s sternum. Within the following moments his head lolled off to the side, and they all watched in daft horror as blood began oozing out of every open orifice “Lan Zhan...look..” Wei Ying refused to speak the words nobody wanted to hear. “L-Lan Z-Zhan...please..tell me this isn't happening.”

Jingyi tried to find calmness as he watched the blood stream around Sizhui’s clenched eyes and like a tear it ran down the side of face, making it’s way over the hill of his nose and landing with a splat on his other eyelid. He knew Sizhui was starting to panic, the way his mouth gaped with no sound and the shaking of his hands, fighting the ribbons that held them. “A-Yuan! Come on baby, it’s alright, ” Wei Ying whimpered with a slight hint of demand,  he fought trying to hold Sizhui’s upper arms down, as the boy gained inhuman-like strength to break his restraints. No doubt it was the pain, Wei Ying could only understand as far as his lessons taught him what it meant to deviate, but seeing it happen literally in his lap. Anyone who had attempted to describe what was only furious confusion, frustration and fear all wrapped up with a bow of physical pain, as anything less than that, had never known the real truth of Qi Deviation.

Then. Stillness. Complete stillness. 

Wei Ying’s mother instincts called out to him and he pulled sharply at the ribbons on his son’s wrists freeing them. They only limply fell off the sides of the cot, Wei Ying brought them to his chest clutching them tightly. The Lan heir for all intents and purposes looked like he was just sleeping, his body nearly completely relaxed. Too relaxed and Wei Wuxian, found his chest tightening at the sight, he knew that soon even Sizhui’s breath would become too relaxed. 

“L-Lan Furen… Is he- no- he can’t, please, Sizhui come on-!” Jingyi tried to move his hand to grasp at Sizhui's statue-like body, but Wei Ying had stopped him with his voice.

“Jingyi. Shh. Sizhui still breathes.” he whispered gently to Jingyi but also to himself and to his husband whose eyes never left his son’s. Wei Ying mechanically moved the youngest boy’s hand to wipe away the blood bubbling from Sizhui’s ear. The actions felt like lifting a sword with a pulled muscle, one that felt like having no breath in his lungs and a type of pain that thrummed with every beat of his heart. Jingyi allowed his hand to continue moving after Wei Ying let him go, letting the actions ground him when everything was blowing up in his face. 

To Lan Wangji it was as if lightning had struck him to his core. An impending sense of doom that crept over him like the silent icy storm does to barren lands. They were so close! At the bottom of the bed, Lan Wangji’s hand closed around one of the slats of the headboard and like a twig it snapped under his powerful burst of energy. He wanted to cry, he wanted to throw a fit, he felt as if right when he was winning he was put on the losing team . 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying’s voice pulled him from the drowning water and feeling the cotton in his ears begin to lighten as he stared into the almond eyes of his beloved. “Please,” he begged, holding Sizhui’s head with both of his hands, “Tell me there is a way. There has to be a way.” For the first time in his life, Lan Zhan was at a loss for words, even if he could choose not to speak in that moment, what little words would he withhold? Now this new feeling of not having any words to withhold, and forced silence in his throat, threatened to break him completely. 

“We’ll give him spiritual energy,” Xichen thought aloud, smoothing his hand down Sizhui’s side in a rhythmic pattern to try and soothe the wracking pain that had the boy’s spine now jolting. 

 “I’ll help too!” Jingyi nodded firmly, his hands were like paws, latched onto the side of the bed while his body was crouched on the back of his heels. He passed over the wet rag to Wei Ying who gave him a soft smile and a warm hand to the cheek in thanks. Jingyi basked in touch, remembering when that same man had asked him if he and Sizhui had anyone to dote on them. He had been so prideful to deny that kind of love, he had said “ I don’t need doting! I’m a cultivator! ”, but now he was thinking that even cultivators needed a guiding hand of a mother when times got tough. 

“ Jingyi, stand by me now. Our presence is not needed for this. It is safer giving a son the spiritual energy of their father, especially in a precarious moment such as this.” Xichen simply motioned his hand forward from where he stood, and like a magnet Jingyi came to stand next to his side. For once not questioning why.

Wei Ying may have thought that when there was light, there would be shadows, he forgot that even during times of shadows, light still found their way to slide through the gaps. Lan Wangji was seeing those gaps, gazing upon slats and pillars of intoxicating light. The type that cats laid in, feeling the warmth spread through their fur, the type that children would hopscotch across, a pillar of hope . Standing and moving closer so that he now sat in the space Jingyi once filled next to his son's head that rested in his wife’s lap. Lan Wangji lowered his head slowly closing his eyes, finding a small smile coming to his lips as he placed his two fingers over the pursed flesh. For a moment, it was like Sizhui was again a baby lying in his cradle once more, chewing on the corners of his blankets and less importantly, his father’s fingertips. Seeing this behind his eyelids, Lan Zhan knew that he should be the one to give the most, when Sizhui had practically given him care all his young life.

“Will it really work..?” Wei Ying's voice was barely below a whisper, but being so close Lan Zhan could hear him loud and clear. He turned and relaxed in the sight of his most beloved, taking a free hand to push back a tress of Wei Ying’s hair and tucking it behind his ear. There were tears in Lan Zhan’s eyes as he pressed a fierce kiss to his wife’s temple, not wanting to put any false hope in the air. He let the kiss speak for the words he left unspoken and then returned his gaze back to his son, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Sizhui...A-Yuan… Father is here, and he will not allow you to go so easily. Trust me now, as I have always trusted you.” Lan Zhan didn't even notice Wei Ying’s hand pressed to his forearm and his forehead coming to touch his, their bodies creating a pavilion over their son. With a gentle hum he drew the energy from himself and in turn, pressed the two fingers in Sizhui’s sternum. Like a jolt of electricity that could restart a heart, Sizhui arched up in the bed, his back bowing as he was filled with the cool floods of mountain streams. Looking at Wei Ying, Lan Wangji watched as he slowly moved his hand up into Sizhui’s hair, and with the most care that someone could give, Wei Ying plucked the boy’s headband up from his forehead by the engraving. Pulling the string from the hair, Lan Furen rested it gently beside his thigh and began running his fingers down the side of his son's face. 

“Come back to us A-Yuan...There is nothing to fear anymore. We are here.” Wei Ying repeated this mantra over and over and over again. He gave a pause, leaning down and ignoring the pain in his back from the strange bow as he pressed a light kiss like a butterfly wing to the tip of Sizhui’s nose.

Lan Wangji thought of Wei Ying, he thought of their love and the duet they created. He thought of all the missed opportunities Sizhui had in life due to his injuries, he thought of the stories he could have told his son, but was too afraid to speak. Lan Wangji wasn’t a speaker, never one to be exact, his words feeling too little or too much that he curled in towards himself. All the moments that should have spoken were like heavy boulders of guilt that dragged behind him by core binding talismans and it weighed on his shoulders everyday. All the times he should have validated Sizhui more, or finally break his silence to Wei Ying and tell him everything he wanted and didn’t want to hear, or even go to Jiang Waynin and grieve together for the person they lost. 

He had always lacked confidence in his words and tried to make it up in his actions.  He would always remember to pat his son on the head whenever his smile was blinding, he made Wei Ying’s grave with shaky hands and dull tools, he even grew himself from the death of his beloved to be the type of person Sizhui could look at and be proud of . Shutting his eyes, he felt the hum of spiritual energy thrum with every heartbeat and allowed the dam in his brain to finally collapse in on itself, because at the end he still couldn’t figure out how to make it up to Sizhui for the words he never said, so instead he gave him something better than just words. More than just spiritual energy, Lan Zhan took this opportunity to give something that weighed more than stutters and curls, something more valuable than gold and maybe even life itself. 

He gave Sizhui his memories. 

___❀___

❀ Love and Passion ❀

Sizhui felt like he had been walking forever. His whole body was aching when he suddenly awoke in a field. He had jolted to a start, raising himself up with his elbows as he stared up at the kaleidoscope of shadows created by the leaves of the large tree above him. Blinking hazily, he rubbed at his eye with a fist wondering how he had gotten to the field in the first place. All he could remember was seeing Mother and in turn his selfless act of using his body as a shield. The rest he couldn’t really put a finger on what was going on, lots of talking that he couldn’t understand and swimming through excruciating pain. Now, looking down at his body, he touched his clothed stomach where the stab wound should have been, but not even a scratch could be seen. Hastily, he ripped open his hanfu and shirt, fingertips just skating across the unmarred skin of his lower abdomen. 

He was in no pain. When he stood up from where he was laying, there wasn’t even a creak in his knee when he stretched it out fully, causing red flags to burst in his brain. He was stabbed, yes, that was one hundred percent a thing that had happened, and yet here he was in a field. Not in the Jingshi, not an infirmary, and especially not six feet in the ground in a wooden casket. Stepping out from the shade of the tree, Sizhui could feel the sun that warmed his skin, looking up he covered his hand to shade his eyes from the bright ball, he noticed with a slight confusion that it was the only thing in the sky. Not a puffy cloud in sight to stroll over and thwart the heat that pressed into his skin. Though even with the sun beaming down on him, Sizhui couldn’t find any discomfort or burn like he’d usually feel spending his time outside for too long, it was as if the sun was holding him close and giving him a big hug. 

Looking around he found he was on top of a small mound of land, right below a tree that was blooming with apple blossoms that swayed gently and had created a cushion of pale pink flowers that he had once laid on due to the outline of his body. Away from the tree was a field that seemed to stretch for years, all around him was grass as tall as his waist with camellias bursting here in there to create splashes of color. What was the only thing dividing the luscious land was a pathway, one that was fenced in from the outside with old, withered logs constructed with no nails, but were connected by neatly sized holes. At the end of the hill there was a creaky gate that Sizhui pulled the latch with pin pricking fingers and gently closed the heavy log door knowing if he was on unknown land the owner wouldn’t be too happy if their gate was left open. 

And with no fanfare, he began walking the path. Sizhui, though was adamant about leaving the field, found himself straying from the path when he noticed the logged fence began to diminish and open up to a stone bridge. A creek sang in his ear as he made his way up the curve of the bridge and looked down upon the water. It was riddled with dark rocks and plant algae that grew its way up the bridge and rested under his palm like the fur of a cat. 

He found himself just leaning his elbows on the moss and resting his chin on his hands, eyes watching the bubbling of white foam that churned it’s way from the rapid movements of the water. Gently his eyes began to fall shut, letting the warmth of the sun kiss his cheeks and listen to the creek. 

"Lan Zhan… Huh?” 

Sizhui’s eyelids began to peel themselves open when he heard the cadence of a male voice call his father’s birth name. Still standing on the bridge, he turned around, hearing the screech of his boot from the way he twirled. Nobody was on the other side of the bridge, but a breeze started to pick up. The trees that loomed over the creek began to shake, creating a musical rustle of falling apple blossoms onto the water’s currents. Sizhui hair picked up in the wind, he grasped at his head when he realized his hair was out of the normal ponytail to just run loosely down his back, even his headband was gone. It was as if he was stripped of all recognizable items that made him who he was. 

Looking at his body he wore just a plain blue robe, one that held no glitter or intricate design, it was as if right then he was just Lan Yuan. Nobody else, but himself, being offered to the world as a gift. Briefly he thought he must have been in heaven, no scene was as beautiful as the place he was currently standing. No clouds passed to notify the change in time, but the creek must have had a source from the bumbling movement of the water, he told himself that if he could find the source of the water, he may find himself near a town or even better where people were. Cities always tended to pop up where there was water, take Caiyi and Yunmeng, both water cities. He might be able to find a way out.  

Instead of taking the path, Sizhui slipped through the fence at the end of the bridge and slid down the sides of the earth until he reached the water. Taking off his shoes, he set the white pair on the side of a couple of rocks and took off the longer part of his hanfu so he was only wearing his white pants and a white shirt. It was the most bare he had ever been in public, but he told himself that this probably wouldn’t count as public. Balling the fabric in his hands, he threw it by his shoes and stepped into the rushing creek. 

The water only made it halfway up his shins, so it was easy to push against the movement and try not to slip on any rocks that he stepped on. The water was clear, one of the clearest that Sizhui had ever seen, even drinking water was muddled at a point, but it felt as if he was putting his feet through air. He only knew it was actually water, because he could see the warmth and wetness that came with a stream subjected to twenty four hour sunlight. 

“Are you asleep? Oh!” 

The man’s voice was like an echo over the lands, but instead of sounding like a coldhearted God, it had a certain air to it. One like a song in a faraway room, that one could only hear the beat of the song, or just a twinkle of certain lyrics. Unconsciously, Sizhui found himself following the voice, trusting that whatever it was, it sounded kindly. Trudging through the water, he began to pick up speed, trying his best to not let the water slow down his feet that slipped and slid all over the rocks. Lowering his eyes to water for what felt like a second, Sizhui lifted them to find that he was in a different location. 

Though still in shin deep water, he was now surrounded by lotus flowers. It reminded him of the dream he had when he came back from trying to call his mother, in which he had done since Mother was the one who checked on him, but besides the point he had laid down for bed and was sent into qi deviation. Spinning in the water he tried to make out the image of his mother he had seen in the same dream, but found himself just kicking up the dirt in the water. 

“I’m sorry, well no… “ 

The voice sounded so near, it was as if someone whispered in his ear. Sizhui whipped around instead of being in the lotus garden he found himself in an inn and in a bed. All the moving places was making his brain start to hurt, when he closed his eyes he expected he was going to be in a different place, but when he opened his tired eyes back up, he was still inside the inn, still... in a bed. 

The inn was a particular place, it was as if someone had started draining the color out of certain bits and pieces of the furniture. Outside, the window was open letting in a gentle breeze, but instead of seeing the outside there was just a blank white, as if someone forgot to draw in the background. Looking down at his hand, Sizhui inwardly became startled as he saw someone’s shoulders peek out from under a muted white blanket. Though, instead of jumping, Sizhui could only feel as if a ghost of himself jumped and the person he was looking through the eyes of, didn’t stir too much.

Then the man under the blanket started to move, Sizhui’s vision had gone black as if the person shut their eyes, but he was met with the echoing words over the land. “Lan Zhan?” the voice asked, a warm hand resting on his bare sternum, “huh?” the man laughed. Thinking to himself, Sizhui must have been looking through his father’s eyes, as if he was reliving a memory. A tight feeling in Sizhui’s chest began to bloom, as he felt the warmth of his Father’s emotions as well as voices that filled him to the brim with a type of familiarity and warmth. The hand on Father’s sternum began to rise slowly up, tracing the thin bone in his neck and up his chin until it rested upon his cheek, “are you asleep?” 

Father opened his eyes and Sizhui was met with the image of his mom, the real image of his mom. All he could think was how beautiful his mom was, eyes bubbling with nonexistent tears. In all his dreams, Sizhui’s mother was a blurry image, redacted from view, and yet right now he was so clear… just like the water he could see his Mother’s heart shaped face, one with high cheekbones and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his thin nose. He was leaning slightly on Father’s chest, so his inky hair pooled around him and casted a halo at the top of his head. “I’m sorry… well no ,” he smiled, one filled with mirth as he rested his chin on top of Father’s sternum, a warmth filled Sizhui’s chest of adoration, love, admiration and he knew it was all coming from Father. It was to his Father as if he was looking at a lovely painting, but now he could touch it, because his hand moved and cupped Mother’s jaw. 

The jokester's smile was filled with a type of warmth that made campfires light, the man leaning into the touch, letting his hair fall over his face. Sizhui wanted to see Mother’s face again, but Father was already one step ahead of him when his other hand came up to tuck the wayward curls behind Mother’s small ear. A couple strands escaped from the dam of Mother’s ear, but Sizhui could hear Father begin to speak, his voice vibrating through Sizhui’s whole being, “You’re beautiful,” he said, like it was the surest thing in the world. 

“ Lan Zhan ,” Mother turned his head enough to press a chaste kiss to Father’s hand, “you wound this poor man’s heart,” he teased, rising from the bed to crawl further up Father’s chest. Sizhui could feel Mother’s cold nose dip into the junction of Father’s neck, feeling his lips move with his words, “Lan Zhan, I love you, ” he whispered into the skin. Inside, Sizhui could feel the bubble of butterflies fill his stomach and his ears got hot.

Father curled his arm under Mother’s shoulder and pulled him closer until they were pressed closely. Sharing each other’s body heat under the blanket that Father had forgotten the color so it remained a redacted piece of the memory. Sizhui was in his Father’s memories, he had to be, there would be no way for him to have known about such a precious time before his mother’s death. And yet it felt so real, he tasted morning breath, felt the skin of Mother’s body, smelt the addicting scent of lotus and sandalwood, “thank you,” the skin on Father’s neck was hot with tears as Mother’s lips pressed a sorrow filled kissed before going on, “thank you for having the confidence to love me,” 

“There is no confidence,” Father went on gently, rubbing a hand up Mother’s spine, “you are my confidence, I should be thanking you.” 

Mother’s laugh was like a breath of fresh air on a snowy day, one crisp and clean, filled with no hidden meanings or catch. It was a soft snowflake on heated skin, a balm to wounds, a cure for blindness, it was everything to Father. It could move mountains to him, bring the dead alive, and the living to understand concept, it was so profound to him. Sizhui never knew this, he would have never known this, unless Father was the one to tell him, but instead he felt all these emotions. Pulling away, Mother leaned over to stare at Father with glittering eyes, Father thought they looked like gemstones in the light, “I love you so much,” he professed softly, pressing his lips to Father’s. 

There should be embarrassment for Sizhui, he should blush at the sight of his parents sharing a kiss... in a bed... even more so with no tops on, but all he could feel was this overwhelming spark . It was like a firework shot into the sky and exploding in the air, something that felt so right like resting his feet in cold water after a long day at work. Father loved Mother and Sizhui could feel it. It was this overwhelming feeling of belonging, like he was supposed to be here all along and Father simply flourished under the touch of his Mother. Every fingerprint set a flame to the candles, drawing shadows of such heartfelt language. Behind the love was friendship, one where Father knew he could count on Mother and know that they’d always meet in the middle. Kissing between his parents was an uproar of music, the climax of every story and the neatly tied conclusion. It was exhausting, yet so powerful. 

After they parted, Sizhui was filled with the eyes of his mother that stared at him with adoration until Father pulled him into a hug so tight he could feel the shift of bones under the grip. Except, instead of being in pain, Mother just gripped onto the top of Father’s head, fingers grabbing purchase on his hair. “I love you more than anything,” Mother's fingers tangled in Father's hair as he spoke words that echoed off the walls and soon his Father's eyes were filled with tears. The man he’d seen as such a powerful, immovable mountain was putty in Mother’s hands that soothed him with a quiet hum and began plaiting the hair he had once pulled. 

“Anything that is of you I was meant to love,” Mother pulled the white sheets to cover his mouth and with a wicked smile he ducked under it.

Father’s arms reached down under the blankets and with a playful smirk that Sizhui had never seen before, he began to tickle mother. “L-Lan Zhan! S-stop!” The latter being instantly filled with hundreds upon thousands of giggles, as he came up for air above the blankets. His back bowed inwardly, to be pushed closer into the protection of Father’s warm chest and he tilted his smiling face up to meet his gaze. They’re noses brushed together, “Silly boy,” Mother scolded with a slight wag of his finger and cheeks pink with blush.

“Wei Ying.. .what would I be without you? ” Father whispered, his hot breath warming Mother’s cheeks, if it was possible Sizhui swore he saw mother smile even brighter, kissing father long and slow. He broke away only for a second to mumble words that Sizhui fought to hear clearly, surely father would remember these words the most? 

“Nothing. Just as I am nothing without you.”  Mother whispered with a smirk before uniting their lips once more. Father’s face read only as agreement, before he joined their bodies again once more, practically zipping themselves into one skin. Then, like sand falling through the cracks of fingers or water escaping through the thin hole of cupped palms, the hold Mother had on Father began to float away, the pressure he was feeling became fleeting like a teaser of what was to come. He was in Father’s memories, watching his Mother and feeling the love and when he opened his eyes he found he was right back in the creek. There were lotus flowers and pods sprouting from rocky waters, something that never happened for regular lotuses. They needed lots of dirt to move, but he guessed it was just a mile marker for him as he explored his Father’s head. 

Of course he wasn’t sure where he was in the first place, because it wasn’t a place he had been before. This was a home Father lived, the place his memories were stored and to be played at the heart’s content. Time was at a standstill, because Sizhui knew how afraid Father was of time. It made him grow up, it aged memories, it even pulled people apart, so instead he found himself in a constant state of high noon where the sun was shining in the sky and no clouds to disturb the light. 

Eagerly, Sizhui began heading farther up the creek until he was met with a new path. This one led off to the right where the creek curved off to left, back in the direction he had started. Understanding the movement of time, Sizhui stepped up from the water, his bare feet resting on the smooth dirt road that didn’t have any sharp rocks to bite at his toes. Biding the creek farewell he set off on the road, trying not to look back at the powerful emotion the creak had symbolized. It was a powerful type of love that had no end, at the end of the day the creek was going to continue to bubble with rushing water, never stopping it’s infinite waltz. Even if it was slippery and hard to traverse, Sizhui knew the water felt good on his skin and housed life for the fishes and flowers, just as love could be hard to travel through, yet felt so good .

❀ Love and Anger ❀

Walking down the new pathway, Sizhui tried to take in every piece of land that his eyes could feast upon. Everything though, was repetitive, the same low hanging trees with branches that obscured the path, almost like the leaves were trying to hide it. Sizhui, however, has been told that he was stubborn and also curious. The first memory that Father allowed him to witness was personal and if the pattern continued, the next one would be just as personal. The lowly hanging trees began to number in size, their branches thick and biting as he forced his way through, pushing away at foliage and feeling his fingers nicked with thorns. Cautiously, he leaned in close, noticing that the normal tree branches were all covered in a sporadic waves of prickers that would usually spend their time on roses that were now on tree bark. The leaves did not change though, still beautiful and full of life, apple blossoms feeling velvety when he rubbed them through his thorn pricked fingers. Closing his eyes, Sizhui fought against the thorns using the sleeve of his robes to protect his arms until he found his body hitting a thin metal bar. Opening his eyes, he turned around to see the coarse thicket and went back to look down at a metal gate it felt as if a short blessing in disguise, a calm before the storm. Instead of simple like the wooden gate in the first memory, this gate was blackened with age, copper red and teal green rust curled around the thin poles creating vines of age and years of dents. It was as if this gate was put up before all the other gates. 

When he touched the latch, ready to open up his way towards the vast field and see the pavilion that rested off in distance, he felt a shock of emotions. 

“Lan Wangji! You can not just lock us away!…all because of your unrequited superstition.” 

Opening his eyes up, Sizhui was suddenly very wet. The sunny sky was ripped from existence to now be clustered by dark, threatening clouds that downpour torrentially on the land. It weighed heavy on him, feeling his clothing pull on his shoulders and his hair whipped noisily in the wind. It was as if Sizhui was blinded by the rain, feeling the powerful churns of wind that pulled at his pant legs and sent furious spit on his cheeks. As he pushed through the rain, he found it was almost easy to take steps, but at the same time he was blind to anywhere he stepped. His bare feet squishing in thick muds and catching on sticks that poked like bones from the ground. 

All the emotions Sizhui could feel weren’t good, but at the same time he felt warm. There was an uneasy knot in his stomach, but in his heart it was soft and guiding him until he found that the heavy droplets didn’t slam on his head. Upturning his chin in curiosity, Sizhui looked up at an old metal roof, one that pattered with rhythmic droplets like hands to a drum. The rain started to let up, but only enough that he could start to see in front of him. He was under the small pavilion he spotted before all the rain had happened, one with thick wood supporting it and open walls, except one of the walls was gated off by the same metal gate he saw that guarded the memories from the others. 

His bare feet squished against the bamboo flooring, a footprint being left behind as he grabbed the gate and looked out. The pavilion looked out to a large ravean made of vast mountains. Ones that were grassy and the water from the rain ran off them to create fascinating little streams that all connected in one big pool of water at the end. It was too far for Sizhui to go down, the earth too steep from him to jump the gate and search the large pond, so instead he just grinned at the view. His hair was plastered to his cheek, dripping a puddle on the floor, like after taking a bath, he took his hair in two hands and squeezed out the water onto the slippery floor below. Inside he could feel a dwelling of happiness, a childish glee of dancing in the rain, but then it would come around to fill him with nostalgia. 

“You can’t possibly understand! Mother’s voice echoed off the mountains, punching out all Sizhui’s happiness and filling with a wish for the old happiness. “Lan Zhan, I will give you the world, as you give me, but you must allow me too! You are suffocating me!” 

Closing his eyes, Sizhui was met with a very loud scream, one that grasped at his throat and held him in an intense choke hold. He was shaking, hands trying to grab at his throat to relieve him of this feeling and yet even with his own hands on his neck his lungs wouldn’t produce the air. Ripping open his eyes he realized he was underwater. His whole body bowed in the smooth currents and pushed his arms to swim. Water filled his senses, in his ears, up his nose, through his mouth, it was as if he was drowning until he was met with crisp air. Sizhui wasn’t drowning anymore, actually he was transported into the Jingshi. The place however looked bare, the gifts he had given Father through his childhood were not on the shelves, but this memory seemed the clearest. Everything had been filled in, he could hear the sound of rain assaulting the roof, the incense that was burning was sandalwood, and as he looked down the hands of the body he was in, were playing a white guqin. 

Father’s hands were bigger, one’s with scars from sword battles and calluses from his music cultivation, Sizhui could feel the spiritual energy leaving Father’s core and resting onto the strings. Father’s head turned, one that was hesitant to look away from the strings as he saw Mother sitting on a daybed, one that Sizhui had never seen before. Normally, his bed would have been there, right under that same window with the low hanging orchid blossom tree, but now it was merely just a sprout. To Father, the daybed was so intense of colors, a sharp contrast of red and deep mahogany wood that seemed to enhance Mother’s dark figure to make him appear like a benevolent God seated above all mortals. 

To Father, Mother was just exactly that. His hair, instead of in a ponytail or decorated with beautiful guans was instead down, pooling down his back like rushing water that fell over the arm of the couch and hung over the side. The red ribbon in Mother’s locks peeked it’s way to tie back the hair away from his face, Sizhui self consciously reached in his own hair to feel, but remembered everything was stripped away in his dream state. In Father’s body he could feel the sharpness of the strings, trace the tune and also multitask by staring at his Mother draped luxuriously to listen, however the man didn’t really seem to be liking the cool water tune of Clarity. It was as if he was pushed on the daybed and forced to listen to it, the fact alone was making Father feel like a dirty rag in water.  

“ Lan Zhan,” Mother’s voice was teasing, his hand coming up to rest on the top of his slightly raised stomach and he stroked it to a different beat than what was being played, “if I had a coin for every time you played me that song, I’d be one very rich man.” 

The guqin stopped abruptly, the notes ceasing with a twinge of anger, “it’s good for you and the baby, ” Father responded with a hint of anger in his voice. Sizhui knew this wasn’t the first time Mother had told Father that same sentence, like repetition it came up causing thorns to grow in Father’s side and obstructed the peace in his mind. 

“Lan Wangji...Enough. I know what you mean to do, our baby is not in need of Clarity. They are the Clarity. ” Mother responded, still not looking at Father, “you hate my cultivation, you think it will hurt our baby, you should know by now that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt it.” 

There was a twinge of pain, like Sizhui was stabbed in his heart. The words were painful and at the same time created a fury of a need for explanation. “You’re putting words in my mouth.” Father’s hands clenched at his side, jaw locked ever so slightly to bring a slight grind in his back molars. 

Mother finally opened his eyes, those russet orbs that were filled with love in the first memory, were now closed off. The way he looked at Father was almost cautious, and it hurt him so fiercely. “Someone has to when you won’t speak.” 

There was a jolt, like electricity that filled Father’s body, betrayal pushing it's way to the forefront. He stood up, grabbing Bichen off the stand, his hand squeezing the hilt so tight that if she wasn’t a spiritual weapon, Bichen would've surely shattered into pieces from her master’s anger. Sizhui could feel as Father’s lips pulled into a tight line, his bottom lip catching on the top of his teeth and began grinding the soft flesh to hold his silence. Grasping the handle of the door, Father waited for Mother to say anything, but when he was met with silence his whole body began to shake with his consuming fury. Slamming open the sliding open door, he let his anger take control of his actions and shut the door with a crisp ‘Bang!’ and stomped out until he collapsed on the top step of the porch. He collected Bichen on his lap, letting his fingers rub on her intricate engravings and tried to collect his rapid breathing into something that was more controllable. 

Outside, even though there was so much going on in the Jingshi, the rain still went on. Father lifted his hand out, feeling the cold droplets splatter and roll off his palm. The window was open in the Jingshi, right beside where Mother sat, and Father fought his entire being to not stomp back into his home and shut it. Mother could catch a cold from the icy humidity and it would be all his fault, adding onto his list of endless failures of navigating a new type of maturity in their relationship. However, he shook his head, as if to disperse the thought and just tried to focus on the rain. It was cool, something that was bringing a type of balm to the calamity that was dwelling inside his stomach. Outside the courtyard was familiar, one with the pond that Sizhui had spent his childhood throwing endless rocks in, but the pathway that stretched out towards the cluster of other houses was an endless black, whatever was going on where the other disciples were located meant nothing to Father. 

In honesty, Father didn’t seem to care about anything, but Mother. His thoughts were filled with what ifs and whens that drove him crazy, because he couldn’t know what was going on in Mother’s head. His emotions were complex, his face even more bare, but somehow Mother always seemed to know what Father was feeling from the subtle lift of an eyebrow or quirk of his lip and Father yearned to have that ability towards Mother. It was as if Father was stuck in a battle with the opponent being himself. They were the same appearance, but had very different ideals, one pushing and the other pulling. He was so angry, filled with a rage of wanting to break everything in the Jingshi and the other part of him was just so filled with sorrow. His beloved, his Wei Ying, Mother, was a maze of emotions that Father had never felt before and he had no clue on which way he wished to navigate. Every turn he took he was met with confusing dead ends where he thought the entrance to the man’s heart would be. He wanted to be angry too, wanted to tell Mother exactly what was on the tip of his tongue, except every time there was the urge to knock the man off his pedestal there was the sorrow that clung to him. Sorrow of Wei Ying leaving him, finally breaking free and going off on his own and getting hurt, because of his selfishness! 

If Father had stayed in that room any longer he would have surely said something he would regret. 

Images of Father leaning over books and studying text by candlelight assaulted Sizhui as if to tell him his Father was searching for answers and yet was drawing to a blank every time. Father had consulted Bobo on his fears and what he got was a very Lan response of a soft push towards the library section on babies and parenting. Though Mother loved to tease Father about his reading, his beloved recently having choosen to read in their marriage bed first instead of doing something rather than doing something a little more fun. Mother never indulged in the books the way Father did. Miscarriage, anemia, preeclampsia, low-birth weight, high blood pressure, it was like every complication in the world was weighting on Father’s shoulders, just thinking the failure he would feel if Mother fell under the spell of any of them. So he picked up on different things, making sure Mother ate his vegetables and drink his special tea, demanding he stay on bedrest when Mother was brimming energy, even on their walks Father had a hand on Mother’s back at all times so if his balance faltered, Father could catch him instantly.

It was overbearing, he knew that, but in his head he just couldn’t find any better way to explain his actions. What explanation could he give when there were people who were out to kill Mother, so send him to the doghouse for being protective. He would go with his head held high if it assured Mother's safety for one day.

All his life he was able to find answers in books, advice, actions, and yet he just couldn’t understand why he felt so lost. It was like walking through a pitch-black hallway with his hands glued to the side of his body, trying to find the exit, but not being able to find the wall to guide him. Father loved Mother and he also loved Sizhui, but Father didn’t know what to say or how to act. From the look of Mother, Sizhui could only imagine that the bump inside was actually him. It was strange to see yourself as just an allusive bump in your Mother’s stomach. It was a fruitless attempt of trying to grasp at something that was just a ghost, fists fighting water knowing it did absolutely nothing, but just caused ripples. 

The man wanted answers, wanted to know how to help Mother with the pregnancy and yet everything he did was turned into an ulterior motive that infuriated him immensely. Why couldn’t he just love Mother without there being a reason to love him . They created their child and yet Mother was acting as if Father was being forced to be kind to him. Didn’t he remember their spark of love, the flame to every candle he lit to learn more?! He was stuck in a quicksand filled pool and he was drowning. 

All around Father was a symphony of music from the rain, his knees pulling up to his chest in a very un-Lanlike manner as he rested his chin heavily on his hands. What was one supposed to do when the hole in his heart was bigger than any trench? As the rain began picking up, Father missed the sign of the Jingshi’s door opening slowly and a soft click of a very familiar tongue. A person sat heavily beside Father as if they were drained from a long day of work, Sizhui feeling a rush of relief fill his chest as the warm body plastered itself on Father's side. A kiss was pressed to the side of Father’s neck, but he turned away slightly as if to reject it, humming in displeasure at Mother’s attempt to heal his wounds. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here too long,” Mother whispered gently in Father’s ear, soothing a hand down his bicep, across the scape of his wrist and intertwining their hands, “You would dare get sick, when you have me to care for.” 

“I needed to clear my head,” Father said, Sizhui remembered his childhood filled with that phrase. Whenever they had fought, Father always had to leave to stand outside, no matter the temperature. It helped him think without feeling like he was suffocating in emotions. Sizhui felt that feeling of claustrophobia and yet his body also welcomed the emotion. “I’m not trying to undermine you,” Father closed his eyes, the blackness becoming an invading border of the lovely watercolor that was Mother in all his glory. His carefree smile ampled with so much mischievousness and gentle eyes filled with the warmth of summer flowers, “I want to care for you and care of our baby as well. I want to do this more than you know. ” 

“Lan Wangji... You can not just lock us away…all because of your unrequited superstition,” Mother’s voice was leveled, as if to speak the words beyond Father’s skin, to force them inside of Lan Zhan. A contrast to the voice in the mountains that was far more profound, one that sent thrums of pain down Father’s spine as he turned to look everywhere, but Mother’s face. Even though the phrase was spoken with no malice, to Father it shook mountains and shattered his glass house of sanity. ‘Tsking’ outright, a warm hand grasped Father’s chin and turned his head so they were looking at each other. A bubble of emotions was filling Sizhui’s chest and it wasn’t until the first hot tear escaped down Father’s cheek that Mother let out a soft scoff of air. Pulling the sleeve of his hanfu down to wipe away the wet strip, “ A-Zhan... You don’t have to lock me away to protect me, I would never betray you...I would never leave you...You are not Qingheng-Jun and I am not your mother. We will be together completely no matter where I am or our child.” Mother smiled sadly, like he wasn’t trying to pick apart every trauma Father had revealed, but he did want to push that the past wasn’t repeating itself. Sizhui wasn’t very familiar with his grandparents, father simply just didn’t talk about them unless it was Bobo reminiscing over tea, but grandmother was always spoken in light while grandfather was short. As if Bobo was poking at a bear and not wanting to get bit.

Father wanted Mother to stay in Cloud Recess forever. He wanted to protect Mother from every insult and monster that crept the earth, daring their dark hands to clasp around him instead. Another feeling, something bitter of jealousy was also in Father’s mind, wanting to keep Mother’s beauty away from everyone else. It made him muddled with so many contradicting feelings. Sizhui’s Grandmother was a beautiful woman, one that his Father loved so fiercely and yet she was so sad. Locked away in the Jingshi house and Father couldn’t help juxtaposing Mother to Grandmother and it made him even sadder. A beautiful colored bird forever caged inside metal slats and Father knew he could never do that to Mother. It would kill Father to be just like his own Father.  

More tears broke free, Mother finding he couldn’t wipe them all away so instead he pulled Father to his chest. Instantly, Father’s hands gripped Mother like a lifeline, an anchor to his floating, no destination in sight, boat. A careful hand then rested on Mother’s stomach, adding no pressure, but just feeling the slight swell of Sizhui inside the womb. Mother smiled at the action, and allowed his hand to fall on top of his lover’s, the pad of his thumb rubbing his knuckles. The intimate look on Mother’s face told Sizhui that if Mother could, he would never leave this moment in time.

There was a flutter against Father’s palm like butterfly wings and Mother again smiled brighter. 

“They only kick for you...Such a Baba’s child already.” Mother whispered.

Though it felt wrong, Father already loved the baby in Mother, even before he could watch Sizhui grow up. He saw images of Sizhui running around the back hill giggling loudly as Mother chased him in circles. Father was just so proud of the person his son would become, because his love swelled every day. For however big Mother got in the pregnancy, Father could feel his ego filling in the same way.  Father’s protectiveness seemed to widen, once there was a single lane bridge of Mother was now a field of both Mother and Sizhui. Father just wanted to be a good parent and he didn’t know how to show it, or even how to word it either. 

“I love you,” Father whispered into Mother’s collarbone, squeezing him tighter, “I love you and I can’t find the right things to say. ” Whoever said love was supposed to be easy, lied. They told the biggest, fattest lie in existence that Lan Zhan would scour the earth to punish said person for their crimes. Loving Mother was easy, it was like a breath of air on a summer’s day, but also it had days like he was trying to walk on water. Mother had a tendency to joke about everything, when it was serious and when it demanded attention. Even now he could see the way Mother hid his sadness with a hollow smile, his brains working like gears to figure out a witty response.

“You make me so angry,” Mother pulled back, his nose wrinkling with displeasure at just the thought. Gently he pinched Father’s cheek, an action that the man turned into with a soft smile, “You make me so angry I want to scream. ” 

It was as if the memory had transported the idea of an old vision. One of a spotlight of moonlight of the textured roofs of Cloud Recess. Mother was dodging out of the way of Bichen, a cat-like grin on his face as he threw his bottle of alcohol sky-high, did a backflip in the air, before catching the bottles with ease. Father felt like a kid again, battling with Mother over silly things like alcohol and being late to curfew. Except for now, he was supposed to be an adult. To have discussions that were supposed to have meaning, but Father felt as if he needed to play along, to bow to Mother’s need to turn everything into a joke so he could finally say his hidden emotions. “And me to you,” Father chuckled feeling a warmth start to shine in his chest, “I feel like I’m suffocating in emotions.” 

A sly smile painted across Mother’s lips as he suddenly grasped Father’s hands and tried to pull him from out under the safety of the roofed porch and into the rain. When Mother pulled, Father didn’t budge, an unspoken representation of their relationship at the moment. Mother stood out in rain that had no right to be called as such, Father thought that Mother would have been drier if he went under a waterfall. The downpour weighed immediately on Mother’s figure, pulling his vibrant locks down in his face and creating streams of creeks that dribbled down his soft complexion. He was beautiful, Father wanted to cry at just how beautiful Mother was. He loved him so much that even when he was angry, he could still find himself attracted to such a vixen. 

“Husband,” Mother’s words were sultry, his mouth curling in a delicious smile when Father’s shoulders hiked up. They weren’t married, not yet, but Mother loved to use Father’s name and husband interchangeably. Though Father wasn’t stupid either, he knew that Mother was aware of how the name effected him and used it in his advantage. “Your Wei Ying is getting wet!” he cried, looking up at the sky to shake his plastered hair away from his face, “you’d really let your Wei Ying get wet by himself! I could get sick!” 

“Then Wei Ying shouldn’t be out in the rain,” Father bit into the bait so easily it was painful. Mother was a seductress, someone who thrived on watching the walls Father had built be torn down. There was raw flesh there, one that he was too scared to show, stuff he had hidden for a reason, and Mother continued to pour his efforts into destroying him. Father loved Mother for that, loved that he was so passionate and reckless. Standing out there in the rain for his foolishness, “Come inside, our son will not favor if you get ill.” 

“Our son?!” Mother cried, his laugh was filled with mirth, “what in the world tells you we will have a son! Lan Wangji, tell your beloved, are you secretly a mind reader?”

It wasn’t that Father was a mind reader, per say, it was just he really wished to have a son rather than a daughter. Even if they took the gamble and got a daughter, he’d be thrilled to the moon and back, but Mother birthing a boy meant an heir. An heir meant Bobo didn’t have to worry about getting married when he was already stressed beyond belief, an heir meant Grand Uncle stopped his hatred for Mother, and an heir was a good thing. Also Father didn’t have to research too hard about girls, because he was more equipped to take care of someone who was just like him. 

Father didn’t know how to take this, didn’t know how Mother could use his humor to hide his deepest scars. Though Mother's laugh was beautiful, one full of boyish charms and enticing as a plate of delicious smelling food, it also held a brittle past. Father never wanted Mother to put on his mask like he did with everyone else, he wanted to be the only person Mother trusted with his problems. It was obvious that even with all the love they shared, one they built on understanding and lust, there were just tiny cracks in the foundation. Mother could have his secrets, Father didn’t, couldn’t , push, it was against his better judgement to force Mother to spill his darkest secrets. 

Father pulled Mother out from the rain, easily discarding his robe to put the fabric over Mother’s wet hair that laid limply around his face. He began rubbing the silk over Mother’s long hair, trying to quickly dry him off. “Please,” A pair of lovely, garnet puppy eyes was like an arrow to Father’s knee. “Come dance in the rain with your Wei Ying, just this once, humor your beloved for just one day.” Mother was sodden, drenched head to toe with rain. His face scrunched up with the droplets that mercilessly drowned his features, suddenly he leaned close to whisper, “I know you're scared about the baby…What could happen to me..." Mother stopped him stepping right into Father’s space. With the robe over his face, Mother looked coyish, like a young child who stole their parent’s robe, he lifted a hand and pressed into Father’s cheek, his fingertips were chilled like ice. Eagerly, Father pressed the hand closer to his cheeks, trying to warm the ice that ran through Mother’s core. “I’m scared too,” Mother finally spoke, stepping so close to Father so they were chest to chest, the baby bump causing a small space to push between them. 

Father felt like the warmth of family, his other hand moving down Mother’s back, resting on his lower half, just above the raise of his behind, “You don’t need to be harboring these feelings alone,” Father professed, pressing a kiss to Mother’s terrifyingly cold forehead and then resting his chin on top of his head. Looking over Mother he could see the shaking of trees in the cold shower, the ripples it created in the pond, even a pair of bunnies that hid under a bush, rubbing their noses together to keep warm. Mother was in his hold, cheek pressed in his hand while the other around his impossibly thin waist, nobody had Mother like this, nobody held him in such a way or even put a child in his stomach. If Mother was to move on from Father, to realize he was too protective, or too broken. Father knew his world would forever be shattered, broken in so many pieces that the vase would never be able to be put back together. Sizhui wanted to cry at that thought, because that was exactly what happened. “We are together, a team, right?” 

Father sounded so unsure of himself, like he was waiting for Mother to rip him apart. To walk back into the Jingshi and turn a cold shoulder. Tell him that he went too far, that he pushed a boundary, but instead Mother pulled away so slightly that he could look up at Father. Softly, he soothed a wet hand on a wrinkle in Father’s robe with a slight tsk from the fabric being out of place. His long fingers resting on Father’s chest, fingernails curling into the hollow of his collarbone. “We haven’t been acting like a team, huh?” there was a hurt chuckle, a tear mixing with the leftover water on his face that pulled at every string of Father’s heart, “you love me, right?” it was a plea, “tell me you love me, tell me that you aren’t just doing this all, because you feel like you're obligated. Please , beloved, I am breaking on the inside.” 

“Never an obligation,” Father's words were thick with emotion, “will never be an obligation, I will always love A-Ying.” Nobody got to call Mother that, a name that Mother had allowed Father to call him after telling the story of his parents. If Mother got the word husband , Father got A-Ying . 

The look on Mother’s face was so heartfelt, one that struck him with a beautiful smile filled with a row of shining teeth and eyes that scrunched up into crescent moons, “If I ask to leave, to help those in need, will you let me?” Father wanted to say no, wanted to throw his hands in the air and be pissed, because he could never say yes to that. Mother's smile fell just a little, the corner of his lips relaxing, “why are you so fickle?” it was teasing and yet had a pinching bite, “don’t you trust me enough to know that if I leave, I will come back?” 

It was a long walk in a direction that Father never wanted to move in. He knew in his head that Mother would always come back and yet his brain continued to pester him with the image of Mother walking away and never looking back. It was cruel to rely on his self-doubt and yet he still allowed them to have their vicious way with him, “If harm came your way I could never forgive myself,” Father's hand clenched ever so slightly at the collar of Mother’s robe, grounding himself in the situation as if he needed to know Mother was real and not a god among mortals, “but keeping you here is not what I ever want. I am selfish in asking you to stay locked away in the Jingshi. If I truly love you I would set you free, but why is that I do love you and I just simply cannot let you go. ” 

“My Lan Zhan ,” Mother smiled, his hand coming up to cup Father’s cheek, similar in the way he had done just earlier, “my beloved, my sunshine, my soulmate , never doubt my love for you. Me going away, means that I don’t love you any less. I want our baby to know where his Mother came from too.” 

"Our son..” Lan Zhan whispered cheekily, to which Mother responded with a playful gaze. Mother was the first to initiate the kiss between them, rising to his toes to press a careful, hesitant kiss to Father’s lips, as if he was just dipping his toes in to test the water. He touched their lips again to the plush flesh, tilting his head to side when Father met him again moving their lips together. Father’s hand carded through Mother’s wet hair, feeling the silky strands between the pads of his fingers to bring him even closer. With every breath he took through his nose he could smell the addicting scent of lotus that spurred him on.

Mother’s hand fell from Father’s cheek to his neck, thumb dipping into the hollow of his throat and just rubbing up and down as they shared their love. To Father, kissing Mother was the best feeling in the world. It was living his best dreams in real life, to know each other so deeply, all his anger and confusion could fall away for just seconds as he relished in their passion. The robe on Mother’s head fell, tumbling off his shoulder, just brushing Father’s hand that was selfishly groping Mother’s backside. An embarrassing realization to Sizhui that he might actually be subjected to parents doing something incredibly inappropriate, but Mother pulled away before anything more scarring could occur. Father pressed his forehead into Mother’s, locking eyes with his sparkling garnet orbs filled with adoration. “We will make a decision,” Father whispered, “one that will ruin my heart, but we will do it together, because we should rely on each other.” 

“Yes,” Mother agreed, pressing one last chaste kiss, before he pulled Father out from the porch in a sudden outburst of strength.  It was a sudden cool shock, but Father relished in the breath of air that filled his lungs. “Grant your Wei Ying some mischief, come scream in the rain with me! Nobody can even hear us, the rain is so loud!” Mother giggled, his hair began soaking up the rain, dripping down his face, but Father thought he looked so beautiful. A rogue in the night, a man who was just so beautiful and smart he couldn’t be tamed by society. 

Stepping backwards, but not letting go of their interlocked hands, Mother lifted his head to the sky and let out a long yell. His fingers squeezing Father’s as he braced himself towards the ground. And with no further look towards The Rules, Father joined him. Their angry yelling melding together to create a painting of deep reds and luxurious purples. Anger was a fickle thing for Father, all his emotions in one body that was too small to handle everything, and yet at the moment he felt as if every worry was being thrusted from his body. Like the pavilion, it was sturdy with a good roof that kept him shielded from the rain, but it was still standing out in the downpour, getting itself wet for the sake of the person under it. Sometimes Father felt like he was drowning in rain, but he could find a pavilion even in the blindness of the storm and that was Mother. 

It felt so free, a feeling of breaking rules and letting out a side that was usually hidden away from the eyes of the public. Father let himself scream and cry to the sky and didn’t expect anything in return for his sorrows. He was still angry, a knot in his chest that was a yarn ball full of issues and self doubt, but looking down he saw a knitter among all the weavers. Mother knew how to quell Father’s anger, the type that didn’t need to be kept away. However, they were still going to fight, still going to pick fun at each other and throw tantrums, because that’s what couples did best. They were both two stubborn individuals, so they couldn’t just throw away their issues at the drop of the hat, Father knew the minute when they headed under the overhang of the porch. 

Still their hands refused to separate, Father intertwined fingers squeezed as a reminder that they were still together in the moment. “How about…” Mother drawled out, dragging a wet strand of hair behind his ear, “you go out and get us some water and I’ll get the bath ready so we both don’t get sick? Eh?"  Mother smirked burying his now shaking shoulders into Father’s chest, his lips just the lightest shade of blue. His teeth began to chatter yet, he still smiled. 

“See...this is what happens, when you don’t listen to me.” Father muttered. Mother’s face became pinched in slight irritation, until he widened his eyes playfully. Mother stepped back and began walking back to the Jingshi, turning around just before he climbed the stairs. 

“The only thing that will happen if you don’t get water, is a very grumpy and cold wife!” Wei Ying declared, his eyes still pinched.   

“Aiyah...” Father cringed slightly under his breath, obviously not wanting Mother to get sick. He was particularly whiny, even under the smallest of colds and it would be bad for their son. Father’s own guilt trip made him pick up his soaked robes and head to the pond, dragging a bucket behind him.

Slowly the time between getting the water was like ink diffusing on parchment, time just speeding up from Father getting the water at the edge of the pond and then pouring it into the large basin in the Jingshi. Mother had created a few talismans to heat up the water as they waited sitting on the ground beside each other. Sizhui saw the comb that Father had used to brush his own hair as a child on Mother’s long wavy hair. They didn’t speak, almost too afraid to shrivel the moment of peace, Father shutting his mind off to count every stroke that he brushed. When he was finished, Father brought up a hand to claw through Mother’s hair, testing for any knots, before he learned over and pressed an icy kiss to Mother’s neck. 

“You’re so cold,” Mother whispered, resting his hand on the side of Father’s head to force him to stay in the crook of his neck, “come now,” The two of them discarded their robes. Sizhui was glad that his Father had thought ahead and completely redacted their genitals from all his memories, or probably more likely the memories he was sharing with his son. The water was hot, prickling Father’s legs with the sudden change of temperature, but even when it hurt it was grounding. Father’s head felt like it was clouds, watching himself sway with dizziness of being in a state of panic for weeks, but now his conscious felt crystal clear. 

Sitting fully in the bath, Mother took a seat on top of Father, resting his head heavily on the broader man’s shoulder. Subconsciously, Father reached around and hugged Mother closer to him, a hand rubbing up and down in the water over Mother’s raised stomach. Sizhui was no bigger than the size of ripe peach, but to Father he was more profound. He was their son, one built together in their love and he’d wait the days until he could hold him in his arms. Mother saw the actions, turning his nose under Father’s ear and pressed a gentle kiss. 

Sitting in the tub, Father could finally get his air back into his shriveled lungs, a sense of peace that hadn’t been seen in these past days of war. Though there were mountains, spilling their issues into the one main pool, Father was able to have his pavilion and look out upon the issues. Sure, he drowned in the pool all the same, but it was rising to the surface when there was no more air left. 

Mother with his fiery eyes; his intelligence, his beauty, his compassion, his empathy. Looking down at Mother in the wooden tub, Father squeezed him a little tighter. All that Mother kept hidden from the public were all the things Father obsessed over. 

Sizhui could feel himself being pulled away from the memory, yet he felt cheated, he wanted to stay more than anything. He felt as if he could stay there the rest of his life and be content. But there was something more to this and as much as Sizhui fought to dig his heels into the ground to stay, the walls became like watercolor and dripped away. Soon the floor became muddled as well as the willow trees and pond, his home disappearing, only his parents left. Just as the corner of the tub began to melt away, Sizhui moved to step forward as if it could keep him there a moment longer. 

“...Lan Zhan…” His mother’s bell voice sounded relaxed...maybe even slightly lazy. Fading away into an echo as the memory became nearly nothing, Sizhui could see the shimmer in his father’s eyes as he twirled his wife’s hair around his finger. 

“ ...I love you… ” With a sudden pull on his lapel and a blink of his eye, it was dark once more. 

❀ Love and Sorrow ❀

Sizhui was being pulled from the memory, feeling the haze from the humidity of the bath let up against his skin and instead was lifted into a biting, icy feeling. Waking with a loud breath, Sizhui found himself able to breath, but now instead of rain he was laying in a thick blanket of snow. Shaking his icy hands, he quickly stood up feeling his body filled with grievances. His bare feet scrunched in the snow, his toes squeezing the clouds, but he couldn’t feel the bite of frostbite kicking in. Though he felt so cold, it was also accompanied by passion, drive, thirst. Sizhui walked through the snow, pulling at his pants legs that dragged in the ice and gazed up at the shady fir trees that were dusted with a cover of flakes. 

As a child the snow in Cloud Recess had always been Sizhui’s favorite, every new season it never ceased to amaze him how the gentle flakes fell to cover the stones and willow branches. Soft and light snow was what Sizhui loved the most, it would crown his head of jet black hair and tickle his nose. If five year old Sizhui could have bottled the first snow of Gusu, he would have long had a collection to shame anyone else that dared tried. For him it was healing, the summers even in Gusu were brutally humid and uncomfortable, the autumn brought relief but more rain than anything that would just leave a mess of fog and puddles in its wake. Snow was different and for Sizhui it was more than just frozen rain. 

When the summer months brought their never ending monsoon rains, Sizhui knew that father would not be able to get up from bed. The humid air made his back seize with cramps and his joints tight, Lan Zhan would barely be able to sit up without getting exhausted. It was on those hot summer days, that Sizhui found himself skipping many lessons, and spending hours locked in the Jingshi, practicing Guqin, painting quietly or simply just holding father’s hand. Making sure the injured man had anything and everything he could possibly want. 

Lan Zhan never needed anything extravagant, his own mind felt guilty enough that Sizhui had become so attached to him...so used to seeing his pain. He knew it was more than abnormal that the young child knew about wound care to the extent that he did. Sizhui at four years old knew the difference between pain that needed a doctor and the pain that just needed a hand to hold. At five, he knew how to change bloody bandages and by six, he was caring for Lan Zhan without the help of any aid or nurse. He even demanded he do it by himself, having perfected his Father's care, at that point he knew no one could do it better than him. 

For both him and his father, winter meant no more pain. Even in his youth, Sizhui knew that the cold made father feel better, in the winter is when father could take a few steps and even when Lan Zhan would have a particularly bad day, Sizhui had the capability to wrap his bandages with layers of snow that would sooth the inflamed skin. His small fingers experts at tucking the bandages tightly but comfortable. There was a clear visual relief that came to Lan Zhan when the temperatures began to drop and if Lan Zhan wasn't in pain, maybe even comfortable, Sizhui was over the moon. 

The winter of Sizhui’s seventh year, was the season that father began to walk again, and to the better of Xichen’s judgement, Sizhui never left Lan Zhan’s side. It was a painful and slow process, the man gripping firm onto the arm of his brother, while his son quietly counted his steps. Any amount of steps were seen as progress and by the end of that season when the flowers began to bloom again. Lan Zhan could walk nearly the whole Jingshi by himself without having to stop. That is until the rain began...and the snow said it’s last goodbye. The rain brought pain and with his pain came regression, Lan Zhan once more confided to his bed. 

Sizhui refused to let this happen, finally father had the strength to paint with him, walk with him, play Guqin again and seeing him helpless was not an option once Sizhui could see how far he had come. The little Lan was so wracked with guilt that he wanted nothing more than to bring the snowflakes to his father. If Sizhui could bring snow, then father could be better again. But where was the coldest place in Gusu even in the horrid summer? The cold pond. Surely it was cold enough there that Sizhui could find snow! 

Knowing what he needed to do, Sizhui slipped from his sheets one summer night and journeyed his way through the deep forest that would bring him to the cold pond. The entire time his mind filled with the image of his father’s smiling face the moment Sizhui could give him snow. What Sizhui hadn’t considered was the journey although within the boundaries of Gusu, was long, and it was dawn by the time he’d reach the babbling brook of the cold pond. The sun didn't even have to rise for father to notice his lack of presence in the Jingshi...triggering probably a heart attack that he wouldn't admit too and a determination to find his son that his body would not agree with. 

Sizhui would not learn till much later in his life, that the moment his bobo had learned of his escapade, he would send every disciple out in search of him. Scouring every inch of Gusu in the early hours was not easy, and Xichen found himself heading towards the cold pond since the bunny field was already on the way. 

The only thing that Sizhui needed help with was crossing the actual pond itself so he could take the snow off the top of the rocks that towered above the glassy water. Xichen had promised him that he would take him to the pond to learn how to swim, because he was finally old enough. Being his mother’s child though, made Sizhui fearless, and therefore partially clueless at the true dangers of the freezing water. Crossing the pond was not an issue the first few steps, besides his small feet freezing. “This is easy! No big deal! I can just walk to the other side!” Sizhui thought to himself as he gripped his glass jar against his chest. He didn't notice the water getting deeper till it was actually at his waist, his hanfu floating all around him. It was getting harder to hold the jar now...much harder and worried that it would fill with water, Sizhui tried to tuck it into his outer robe, not realizing the slip of his feet until it was too late and his eyes met the dawn of the morning. His head was under the water within seconds and he fought to find his footing, but the current had pulled him deeper, yet his arms held tight to the glass jar. 

The image of his father’s relieved smiling face, soon became that of pure sadness at the fact that Sizhui had failed in his mission...breaking the surface for a gasp of air, it was only then that the picture of Bobo’s face became crystal clear and more real than anything Sizhui had been seeing under the water.

Xichen dashed as fast as he could down the stairs to the waters edge when he came upon the top landing that led down to the cold pond, damning all Lan rules as his seven year old nephew venture deeper. He threw himself into the shallow, stumbling over his own balance in the moment Sizhui’s head was swept under. Xichen, being nearly 6’2 was able to stand without the water coming as far as his upper chest. Within seconds, Sizhui was in his arms pressed tightly, still clutching his glass jar. Although heavily confused, Xichen knew better than to scold his nephew immediately, so as soon as they got to the shore, Xichen held his crying, coughing nephew and patted his back till all the water was expelled. Sizhui sobbed as he buried his face in his uncle’s neck feeling nothing but fear. 

“Why Sizhui...Why would you do this… Shh...talk to Bobo..it's alright now..” Xichen cooed, sitting on the stairs and keeping Sizhui in his lap. The little boy pulled away and found himself choking over his tears as his fingers shook, gripping the jar to show his uncle. 

“B-Baba needs snow! B-Baba n-needs snow for his back! I wanted to bring him snow!” Sizhui sobbed harder as he pointed to the rocks covered in the soft, precious white flakes. Xichen felt his heart break as he just pulled his nephew close once more and without another word carried him all the way back to the Jingshi. 

It wasn’t until they’d past the bunny fields that Sizhui had stopped crying and Xichen could finally speak softly, his voice like a breeze itself. “A-Yuan...you have your mother’s heart…You’ll do anything to make sure that those you love are healthy and happy. Even if it means harming yourself...My dear nephew, as much as you want to help your father, you are still too little for some things and that is okay. It is okay to ask for help sometimes.” With the Jingshi in sight, Xichen knew that at this point his nephew just needed his Baba, but he silently hoped walking the stairs onto the veranda that his nephew would be okay. 

The clan leader’s heart assured the moment he opened the door and found Lan Zhan pacing back and forth slowly, each step shaken and on the verge of giving out. Lan Zhan was never the type to easily allow himself to fall or give in, yet the moment he saw Sizhui’s small soaked form over his brother’s shoulder he reached out and fell to the ground with his son gripped tight to his chest. Pain be damned, Hanguang-Jun clutched his son and kissed his forehead. 

Sizhui would have no long lasting effects of his near drowning, but it was a memory that he never forgot, because for the first time in his life, snow brought pain. 

Now this was the second time, cold enveloped Sizhui, thrown with force out of his father’s memories into what he could only assume to be snow, he felt nearly assaulted as the ice crystals dug into his skin. They cut at his pale hands and cheeks, and he sputtered after inhaling a mouthful. This snow felt like it had been frozen over a hundred times, so when Sizhui’s body broke it’s surface its sharp edges were unmerciful.  The wind was blinding, as Sizhui tried to find his footing and stand. If he wasn't careful surely he would be blown away, he reached out hoping to grab hold of anything, yet there was nothing. 

“Father!” He cried, into the darkness that was ahead of him, through his short blinks he could see that wherever he was, it was certainly not a vision any longer, a long path with no destination ahead, but what seemed to be a staircase. Not a tall never ending staircase like the ones that led into Gusu, these were short like the Jingshi’s...or exactly like the Jingshi’s. Four short steps into what seemed to be nothing, yet everything inside screamed for him to walk closer. “Baba! Where are you?! ” 

All around the path was lined with tall bamboo gates, painfully similar to the walls that secluded the Jingshi from sight. Sizhui could feel his voice beginning to strain and his body being pulled in all different directions as if he was becoming a part of the wind itself. There was less than a lantern’s amount of light to guide his steps and with every movement, Sizhui could feel his feet crunching, literally breaking ground like it was a thin sheet of ice over deep, chilling water. 

There he was reliving another terrible memory, it was as if he stepped into another body, finding his hands morphing into one of a skilled guqin player and heart growing more distant. Sizhui felt like a puppet as he lost control of his own body and was now standing in his Father’s skin. His father’s control made his limbs heavier than normal,  his calves felt like boulders as Sizhui was forced to step onto the first platform. 

Not to mention the blizzard currently assaulting his face, four steps shouldn't be that hard! The determination that screamed in Father’s skull, similar to his scream during the rain shower ebbed away almost instantly. The moment his foot made contact with the snow covered step, as his breath was ripped away from him. For a moment he thought he was being thrown into another memory, until he realized that his surroundings were not melting away as they had done before. Sizhui still felt terribly cold, his hands were ghosts to wrap around his shoulders, but knew it did nothing as the snow enveloped him in a tornado-like cloud that took away his focus. With every blink he saw beyond his Father’s past surroundings, a watercolor mixture of mulled reds and blacks. 

The whole land was filled with rock fixtures that hung in a dangerous fashion, except all around was molten lava that bubbled like a boiling pot. The snow that he saw was gone, but even with the dancing flames around Father’s bloodied and ratted robes, he still felt so empty. As if he just hit rock bottom…  In order to keep some sort of hold over whatever his father was trying to communicate Sizhui reached his apparition palm up to his head and clenched tightly, feeling his own hair and yet the feet below him were solid on the rock ground. The want to scream at the throbbing pain was on the tip of his tongue and even when he whimpered in pain he found it fell to deaf ears. These memories already happened, his presence not needed, all there was left to do is watch and just suffer. Yet through all pain that gripped his body and tried to pull him under, he kept his eyes open to watch with baited breath as the image began to clear. 

Through the whistling wind and howling blizzard as if his ears were stuffed with fluff, voices were echoing, screams of war, Sizhui had known all too well, but never to this degree. It was almost terrifying to hear the symphony of shattered bones and gurgles of last breaths. There was a duet of swords coming together and breaking apart, even to the point that he could hear the dull clatter of their once strong hands letting the swords drop. There was so much going on around Father, as if he was drowning in noises, a benevolent knight that stood amongst the chaos, he had a difficult time trying to stay focused on the scenery and it took every bit of strength he had to silence the noise. Staring at the silent image now, it was clear behind his eyelids that the scene was meant to be dark, it did not look like any familiar place to Sizhui, just a horizon of fire mountains, with a blackened sky, ash drifting in the air like falling apple blossoms. Even though Father’s stance was firm on the stair he was standing on, beneath him Sizhui could feel instability and in a way that the ice began to creep up his thighs like it was trying to poison him. All he wished was to jump forward towards the second step, to shield himself from such an intense memory, but found Father was unmovable. The air was so thin in both the blizzard and image it was as if his mind and body could not decide where to be. 

“Wei Ying...Come Back.”

‘Wei Ying…? Mama? ’ The vision was closing in with every passing second, the scenery, the background, all turning into darkness as if someone scribbled with ink swirls to block out everything else. Just what was in front of him under his feet was clear. He could hear Father’s heavy breathing pulsing in his eardrums. Counting...every breath another second that passed. 

“Wei Ying! Come back!”

It wasn’t until Sizhui actually felt as his Father pull his head up to gaze at the image before him did he want nothing more than to truly be dead. There he stood at the base of the rock ledge, the same one that hung over rivers of fire and heat. Sizhui knew then why he was light on his feet. 

At the edge of the ledge, was mother. Dressed in black and red, his hair wind blown and his face… broken . His body wracked with laughter and sobs, Sizhui couldn't make out, but everything inside Father said to jump forward, grab his mother and pull him away from that edge. 

“Mother! Stop!” Sizhui screamed into the blizzard thinking he could change the outcome but was in fact just reliving the inevitable. He watched Mother’s foot purposefully stepped back further till it was no longer on the ground. His arms stretched wide, completely sacrificial. He felt Father’s body jump forward closing the distance as his Mother began to fall, and with a thud. The image disappeared quickly, nothing but darkness, and yet Sizhui felt his hand as if it was being gripped with the strength of someone in the last minutes of their lucid life. His hand felt wet and warm, but again there was no image to tell him what was going on in this part of the memory. It was as if Lan Zhan himself chose to forget it and therefore couldn't give the exact image to Sizhui. Only sounds and feelings.. .horrific feelings. 

“ Lan Zhan… Let me go… ” 

“ Jiang Wanyin! Stop it… ”  

“ Wei Wuxian...Go to Hell! ” Jiujiu…? Sizhui could recognize the pain filled voice. 

Then a loss...so profound, sudden, painful and burning that Sizhui felt as if he would vomit blood. 

“...Wei Ying!”  Within seconds it was over and Father’s foot ascended up the next steps.

Sizhui was physically panting to try to bring fresh air to himself, except this time as he inhaled the air was so crisp it just made him choke up a cough. He was shaking, his shoulders thrumming with the beat of every breath. Father’s hand was placed over his heart, as if he was holding in the blood of the beating organ. Feelings of lost, profound grief, anger, passed through him as a wintry breeze wracking a shiver down his entire spine and making his toes curl in the ice.

Sizhui just wanted to go home, he wanted to hide in his Father’s embrace and feel the hands he was looking down at curl into his shoulders. This didn’t feel like home, there was a constant thrum in his chest as if he was ready to step into danger, yet didn’t know when it was going to hit. At this moment Sizhui’s two feet became planted on the second step and the next memory played painfully vividly. 

Father’s heart was searching, he was searching for anything and everything, but the hope he had was almost nonexistent. If he wasn’t supposed to be searching for something physical, then Sizhui would name it as closure for a loss. Around Father’s body was a fog so thick that even the step right in front of him felt as if it disappeared from existence and then Father began walking. Father was physically walking forward and yet trapped in fog. During the rainstorm, Sizhui had felt a sense in his heart that was guiding him forward, a pavilion ready to shelter him away and yet with every step Father took there was no sense of guiding. It was with brash steps and a mind full of sorrow that he took steps forward recklessly, tripping over sticks, dirt, and rocks before letting himself fall at the edge of water. 

When Father finally released his palms from his chest, Sizhui could now see that in the hand’s wake was a large physical hole. It was as if someone had stolen Father’s circular piece right where his heart was supposed to be. Sizhui knew Mother was the one who created this emptiness feeling in Father, even if he truly didn’t mean it. He was a thief in a sense, a thief that stole Father’s heart and died with it in his hand. The guiding the feeling that Father had felt in their relationship was gone. 

Then abruptly, Father had stopped walking, looking up in confusion, metaphorically finally being shielded in his own pavilion, though physically his arms were now full with a baby, slowly his body hunched forward at the edge of what was clearly the back hills of Gusu, near the water where Sizhui learned to swim. The hole in Father’s chest was getting bigger, as if it was consuming his body in one black hole filling itself with emptiness, and yet the baby in Father’s arms was shining like the sun, a healing balm to the gaping space. 

A voice that didn't have the capacity to be intrusive, yet only felt this way because Sizhui had been so focused on the silent images invaded the Lan heir’s mind. The voice of his bobo, sounded concerned, yet soft and gentle. Sizhui was waiting to have his bobo’s face fill his focus, and yet the silent image of his fathers arms, curled around this bundle of a child, never faltered. Only as the presence of a looming shadow kneeled carefully behind father. 

“Where have you been...it has been days! Uncle is out of his mind. Come we must return.”

Bobo’s voice was soft, gentle, but to Father it grated his ears and he tried to shield the baby further away from the shadows of his brother. A part of father knew he need not shield the child from someone whose trust in him never broke. But at the same moment, the world was against him, anyone at any moment could turn...even the closest of family. That part within Lan Zhan that whispered reassurance was the only reason why he decided to speak in the presence of Xichen. He knew his brother was just as surprised at his current state as he was, so he made moves to explain.

Yet the only words that made sense, were words that were clearly illogical. In the eyes or ears of any Lan, an effect of the heart on your words, was weakness. Lan Zhan could admit that in that moment though he felt scared, pressured and shocked, above all he felt weak. 

“Wei Ying, never left me brother. He’s still here...look.” 

The baby in Father’s arm became like a shining spotlight of moonlight, it casted away shadows and the color of Bobo’s body bursted to life with his concerned face and splashes of blue exploded behind his eyelids. The fog was cut away like a sword cut and the light that was emitting from the baby fused forward into Father’s chest, filling the physical hole. The warmth filling Father was like a glass of warm tea passing itself through ice cold fingers. The sound of the baby’s coo’s subtle and clear, broke whatever tension was left over. 

“Wangji, this child?” Bobo’s voice was as clear as the Cold Pond, his whole figure shielding Father’s body from snow that was falling onto them, but nobody had seemed to notice. There was a thrumming warmth, like a campfire had been set up right on Father’s chest as Bobo leaned a little further to move the robe covering the baby’s face away to see him better. There was no missing the Lan gold eyes, they were inner gentry traits, no one just had gold eyes without being an heir of Gusu. 

“My son. Wei Ying’s son. Our son! ” Father further confirmed the dawning horror fact in Sizhui’s brain that he was staring down at himself, just as an infant. Sizhui was… really small. He had big eyes, it almost seemed like they were bulging out from his head as his mouth was making a type of smacking noise. Sizhui never in his life had seen a starving infant, and yet right now here he was staring at one… more importantly himself. 

Bobo was speaking, but his words never reached Father, his whole focus was just staring at Sizhui, but in baby form. The sadness that wafted off Father like smog out of a chimney was dissipating with every breath of air as he just breathed in and out, finding mediation in the face of his son.

“You must answer to Uncle, or he will force you to answer.” 

Crack! Like the sound of a mirror breaking, a part of the sky seemed to dislodge, shattering to the floor. Sizhui expertly jumped out of the way, watching as shards scattered across the dirt floor. Nobody had moved, so it must have been a hallucination in Father’s brain. His whole world crumbling to his feet at his Brother’s words. The first crack in the sky was like the catalyst to the shattering landscape of the backhills. With every crash of glass, Father crumpled further in on himself, shielding baby-Sizhui. Bobo had turned back into a haunting shadow, as the whole landscape became just total blackness, nothing in sight but Father and baby-Sizhui.

“Huan-gege... I will answer if I must, but I will not have my son pay for me,” Father’s words were gentle, carefully picked from the dictionary of his brain, as if he spoke the wrong words it would all bite him in the end. Father stood up from his crouched position, hands quivering as he passed Baby-Sizhui into Shadow Bobo’s arms. “If I may ask, please will you protect this child, if I no longer can. If I can not claim him, then publicly make him your heir.” 

Sizhui felt in his chest the sense of surety he had when he was inn. As if death was his only option and there was no ifs or buts. Father had those feelings, it must have been why they were standing in total darkness and Bobo was just a blob of blackness. He lost all will to live. 

“Wangji, you speak as if you are leaving this world.” Bobo’s words were distorted, as if he was saying the characters muffled by a pillow. Except, Father could hear every word. The hole that grew in his chest was consuming him and just like the sky, a piece of Father’s cheek shattered like a porcelain doll. Looking down Father held the piece in his hand, watching as he began to crumble away until there was nothing left of himself. 

Yet, when he spoke he still felt there in the situation, just not in his mind, “For him,” Bobo was melting, the inky black of shadow was glooping off like thick honey, splattering onto the ground as Father’s voice consumed them, “ I will accept death, knowing in exchange he will receive life. ” Father breathed easily as nauturally as the world intended of him.

The goop that fell from Xichen’s shadow slapped against the ground, consuming the baby until they were just one large mass and disappeared into the floor as well. Sizhui’s eyes flew open, not even remembering that he closed them as he felt Father take a step upwards. Glancing backwards, Sizhui watched as black ooze was trickling from the edge of Father’s robes, spilling down the steps they previously were on. The emptiness was following them, but it hadn’t consumed fully on the steps, so they had time. Father's steps were lazy, swaying from side to side as if he was drunk, or simply just being reckless. The stairs in front of them disappeared easily as they did the first time and the familiar hallway that led to the Elegance hall came into sight. 

The Elegance room was a place that Sizhui had only seen a handful of times, it was the place where Shū gōng had taught him the lessons that Zewu-Jun couldn't, or more so, shū gōng would not allow him to teach. He had always been a strict teacher of Sizhui. As a child; Sizhui remembers not understanding why Lan Qiren was a man quick to anger in what seemed to be only Sizhui’s presence. There had been a time where a very young, naive and sparkly eyed Sizhui had been approached by Lan Qiren at the water’s edge of the pond outside the Jingshi. They stared at each other for a while, as if Qiren was looking straight through the young boy. He didn't find anything that he thought would be there. In fact when Qiren saw Sizhui’s golden eyes, that hadn't left him from his infancy, he never looked at Sizhui the same way. 

They had lessons, Sizhui and his Great Uncle everyday. The lessons had always been strict, even for a young boy and he had never known why. Bobo had told him that the things Great Uncle was teaching him were supposed to prepare him for when he succeeded, but in actuality the venom he spoke towards Sizhui for low marks was nothing more than spite. With Wei Wuxian being his Mom, of course Lan Qiren was going to have a bone to pick with him, using his blood against him. But even in his youth, Sizhui knew that unless he was being sent there for a lesson, any other reason to go to the Elegant room, meant one thing. 

Punishment. 

The Elegant room served many purposes, to not only entertain guests when they arrived for tea, or to hold group class events. However, when the doors shut, and the most senior disciples lined the borders of the pathway. Public humiliation was teeming to take place. There was an irony that only now Sizhui was realizing about The Elegant Room. Shū gōng although he would never publicly admit it, was certainly less than the type to be described as elegant. The term usually followed a list of descriptions that included strict, loyal and somehow they managed to squeeze elegance at the end. However being the nephew of Zewu-Jun and more so the son of Hanguang-Jun, Sizhui knew what it meant to be elegant. 

Lan Qiren by all means, was not and he was living up to his title in this moment. 

Sizhui, unlike all the other memories, found himself walking beside his Father’s body, but still he could feel his Father’s helplessness; it was practically in the air. Every so often he could feel a hint of hopefulness, but the closer and closer they got to the Elegance room, that spark began to fade until completely vanquished. Bobo was nearby, striding right next to father as if he too was walking to accept punishment. Sizhui’s infant form had been returned to his father’s arms, now wrapped even more, in what seemed to be bobo’s most outer robe. The greys, blues and silver patterns folded over multiple times nearly covered all of Sizhui’s small form. He knew that father couldn't take his gaze off of what was in his arms, because as much as Sizhui wanted to see everything else that was going on around him, his vision was focused on only his own infant face. As if father was trying to burn the image into his mind before he returned to reality. 

Baby Yuan had finally seemed to find rest, and was asleep with his fists curled around his gentle oval of a face. Sizhui had been surprised at how much he looked like his father as an infant and grew into a near spitting image of his mother by his young adult years. His father’s gentle brow and long eyelashes adorned his face like precious jewels, while his cupid’s bow curled perfectly into a tiny pout in his sleep state. Every so often he made a smacking noise with his mouth, still hungry.

With every step forward, Sizhui could see the black ooze trailed from his robe on the stairs where he walked. It was like a snail trail of helplessness, thoughts consumed with black that it was literally sweating off Father. Everytime his foot touched the ground, Father could see his vision tunneling in on the door of the Elegance room, it was like a spotlight, readying itself for the action to proceed like a stage play. Puppets on a string, dancing to the song of war. 

The doors to the Elegance room thrusted open in an uncharacteristic loud slam. Swarming the two Jades of Lan were a group of older disciples, with Shū gōng standing in the doorway, there was a strip of black ooze leaking from one of his nostrils, watching as Father was grasped at his shoulder by not one, but three disciples. He wasn’t even putting up a fight, but the look in the young shidis’ faces were like watching a rabid dog, ready to jump away if the teeth snapped at them. At the drop of Father's knees onto the solid dark hardwood, Infant Sizhui awoke with a shutter and began to whimper. There was a feeling as if he was giving up finally, full and utter acceptance at the moment, while everything else melted around him, the only thing that remained was Bobo and Shū gōng. 

“What are you doing-?! Release him!” Bobo’s voice, if it wasn't condemning before, it certainly was now. A whole new attitude that Sizhui had never even imagined bobo to have within him appeared and fury became woven between each word spoken. The shidis made no move and if anything the grip on Father’s shoulders seized tighter, to become uncomfortable at this point, and if he hadn't been holding his precious son, Father’s body would have been completely genuflected towards Shū gōng. Father felt weak, being forced to bow so slowly and yet so helplessly. There was a puddle under his knees, filling with the watery black sludge of his depression. It stained the bottom of his shoes and looked as if it was climbing up the white robes. Bobo collapsed to the floor, hands reaching out towards Baby-Sizhui. “Please, didi, give him to me, it’s alright.” he tried to reason, Father’s grip was shaking as if still unsure of whether to hand his son over, even if it was to his own brother. However, once the baby was in his hold, Xichen tried his best to throw disappointed looks to the brain-washed disciples, but found they were immovable. Scrambling backwards with the baby held against his chest, Bobo, with the most unlikely display of clan leader fashion, pulled himself up with gangly legs without the use of his hands to fully protect the bundle.

“Xichen. Stay out of this.” Shū gōng’s voice, echoed as if it were an anvil hitting sharp metal. The heat of anger radiated off of Bobo and filled not only the air around him but all around his feet. Yet Father did not move. Pride wasn't keeping him there either, it was his Father, Grandfather, Great Grandmother, and any Lan that came before him cementing him to his spot. “Bring him to me.” The three loyal Shidi’s that at this point Sizhui had determined these were Shū gōng’s specially picked disciples made only to serve him. While the Lan’s preached that everyone was to follow the same rules, and practically strive to be replicas of one another, everyone knew that there were exceptions to everything. These Shidi’s were exceptions, any one would be able to tell that just from a glance that these young men were literally raised and trained only under Shū gōng’s eyes to create the perfect Lan. 

Hearing their master’s command, the shidi’s picked him up by his shoulders, quite literally dragging him to close the distance between the veranda and the Elegance room. Father still made no moves to respond as he was thrown to the ground in front of Lan Qiren, who held himself almost too straight, he looked uncomfortable, but ever so condemning. Bobo had rushed behind Father and kept a firm hand on his back. There was a comforting transition of energy on the spot where Bobo had placed his hand. The hesitation that once existed within Father that questioned everyone’s intentions, disappeared in Bobo’s gentle touch. Sizhui had always felt the same way in Bobo’s presence, there truly was never a moment in his life where Sizhui ever felt betrayed by Bobo, or that he couldn't go to him. Xichen had a special place in Sizhui’s heart. 

“Wangji...do you have anything to say for yourself!?” Qiren thundered, causing everyone but the shidi’s to flinch. Father remained silent and the Elegance Room began to bleed away, it's details no longer recognizable. “You are the example above everyone else! The young disciples look up to you!” With every emphasis of his words, Qiren came closer, and the seniors still kept their grip firm. “Look at me!” Qiren’s voice made Father’s bones rattle and the grand master reached down to grab at the chin of Father and forced his gaze. Yet as soon as the gaze was pressured, Shū gōng’s attention was brought to the bundle that he had assumed was just a mess of blankets to soothe Wangji's skin. Seeing the baby however made Shū gōng stumble severely and he let go of father’s jaw. 

Infant Sizhui was still staring wide eyed at the world around him, and Father’s hand paid no mind to his aching jaw, but instead used his index finger to trace the outline of his son’s face. Father’s porcelain finger traced the babies lips, not moments later the infant latched on thinking it was going to be food. One would think the baby instantly would let go when he realized it was in fact not his mother’s chest. But only light suckling noises filled the space of the Elegance Room.

“This...this child? Wangji! What is this!” Now was the moment...Xichen looked up and met his uncle's horrified gaze. Bobo stood and walked forward, his voice reserved. Inside, Father could feel his whole body screaming to stop Bobo from going to Shū gōng, but the disciples at either side of him put all their spiritual energy to holding him securely. Father may have been one of the strongest cultivators in all the clans, yet he seemed to be holding back from really hurting anyone. 

Xichen moved the robe from A-Yuan’s face, Shū gōng raised a quizzical eyebrow up at Bobo, not even letting himself make an assumption before he knew the truth. The reason grated on Sizhui’s nerves, because here his Great Uncle was being a rule abiding Lan-- Rule 38: do not make assumption about others,  “This is the son of Wei Ying.” Bobo said softly, not really offering the baby to their Uncle, but also not making any move to stop him from touching the top of Baby-Sizhui’s cheek. 

“No!” Father cried, now actually fighting the disciples at either point of his shoulder. They were hurting him. The splotches that would appear later from their harsh grip were going to be a mixture of colors, purples, yellows, green, all the colors of harm. Uncle turned to him, Bobo pulling Baby-Sizhui closer to his chest, “That’s my son!” Wangji said with the assurity of one saying: ‘The sky was blue.’ 

There was a fury that erupted like a wildfire in Uncle’s eyes, he took a deep breath, one filled with more words than the one he was ready to spout, “You have no proof!” Qiren turned abruptly to Father, his eyes were leaking blackness and the steady strip that was coming from his one nostril moved to both of them. All of his orifices were running black and it was terrifying. Nobody noticed the leaking ink, something told Sizhui that this type of dripping wasn’t actually going on in the current time when this memory was taken, but instead something his Father had imagined. It was hard to understand why everyone in this scene was slowly leaking with ooze, but when Sizhui found his feet moving he was able to ghost around the upright figures. Bobo in the last memory was melting away, but in this one the ooze seemed to just be trailing under his robe, leaving a type of stream that was following him. The blackness was like desperation that Sizhui could see and feel, but to Xichen it had been completely invisible.

“Uncle... the eyes are telling enough.” Bobo took a soft, sighing breath, raising one finger to Baby Sizhui to press it lightly to his forehead. What was left behind was a black fingerprint, marking him like the way Jin’s had their bindi. They may have worn those for opening their third-eye and social status, but for Sizhui the black fingerprint was like a shackle. Sizhui was simply born with trauma and tragedy from birth. 

From Bobo’s gesture, Great Uncle’s gaze settled on the baby’s face, right at Sizhui’s own golden orbs. The black goo was dripping on the floor messily as Shū gōng’s face went through every stage of grief known to man. With nothing else he could fathom not even to turn and try to talk Father out of this mess, his eyebrows settled firmly at the man’s face. The tone Sizhui thought Great Uncle Qiren would use would be that of a scolding father, the same one when Sizhui would be late for his heir lessons, or if he got a bad mark on an essay. No… these words were scathing- devastated even. "This is why you left for days…?” There was a pause or hesitation, Shū gōng’s hand was tightening in a fist at his side, “This is why you killed thirty-three of your elders Wangji..? For the Yiling Patriarch-” He let out a sputter as he gestured widely at Baby-Sizhui, practically at a loss of words of what for what to even call him, “and a… A… A demon spawn?!”   

“..and I would do it again.” Father was so quick to speak that Sizhui almost fell over whipping his head around to see him. It was almost a sneer, the type Father uses exclusively to grate nerves about a disciple during cultivation conferences in Sizhui’s or Bobo’s ear. 

“What?!” The blatant disrespect, the tone, it was as if Father was trying to crack the thinning ice Great Uncle already had him standing on. “Prostate yourself, look me in the eyes and say that again!”

The command sent the disciples to let go of Father’s shoulders, pushing him in the empty space. Sizhui found himself moving forward, to grasp at Father but his feet seemed to have been weighed down. Looking at the ground to find a shallow pool of black ooze had accumulated itself on the floor. He couldn’t see who was producing what liquid, but Father didn’t kneel in the water, not even a kotow as he walked up to Shū gōng and said with gritted teeth, “I. Would. Do. it. Again.” 

Chaos erupted, Father seemed to stand without a care in the world, letting the disciples jump him like a sporadic restless corpse. “Shameless!” Great Uncle cried, shaking his finger in Father’s face, he looked ready to bite the wrinkly digit off, “How dare you bring such a creature into Cloud Recess!” With a dramatic hand wave in the direction of Bobo and Baby-Sizhui he went on with the fury of a thousand Gods, “Your actions don’t even need to speak for themselves! Just your presence is shameful-- Give me that child!” Father's solid jade face cracked vividly as his gaze turned to Bobo. 

Xichen took a step backwards, his feet sloshing in the inky black water that rested just above his ankle. “Uncle please! Not the child! He has done nothing wrong...” He spoke in a rush, pressing Baby-Sizhui closer to his chest in a protective squeeze. This action however made the infant screech with a cry, Baby-Sizhui’s fist shaking in the air as he beat onto his Bobo’s chest. His fearless Uncle, the one who cared for him whenever Baba couldn’t, looked as if his heart cracked in two. Slowly, he blinked and two streams of blackness rolled down Xichen’s face, as if finally he was showing the true emotions of sadness. “Uncle,” his voice was strained, bouncing Baby-Sizhui in a confused and yet comforting gesture, “please it’s all didi has, please- oh Gods please just let him have this. I’ve done everything-” 

Great Uncle stopped his furious walking, his hands flexing out of the fist to rest at the side of his robe. “A-Huan,” he said softly, he took a step forward and Xichen took one step back, turning to the side as if to hide the bundle from their Uncle, “Xichen!” he said this time, a little louder as if Shū gōng was mad that he used the Jade’s milk name . “This child is… innocent - however! Wangji; he will bear the guilt of your actions long after you’re gone, if I have anything to say about it!”

The threat hung in the air like a guillotine ready to fall from it’s height and slice the prisoner’s neck, “My son will not live to regret this life!” Father's head lowered slightly, but he didn’t stop looking at Great Uncle. Sizhui had never seen Father this angry and it was honestly the scariest thing in the world. The black ink swirling their feet was filling quicker, now it was up to their hips. Pressing a hand to the top of the water, Sizhui’s hand went through, but didn’t come up wet. It wasn’t tangible, but it was visible. “My actions were all taken in my son’s name! In his mother’s name!” Great Uncle took a step backwards, face struck in horror, “The elders deserved it for killing the love of my life!” 

The statement at best was terrifying, Father looking through his lashes and nose scrunched in rage. If he had the vein Uncle Jiang had, it would surely be showing with how tightly he was holding his jaw. Shū gōng closed his eyes, not wanting to even look at Father as he collected a long breath that sent the baby hairs at the base of Sizhui’s neck curling. “ Wangji,” his tone was soft, yet biting, “how you disappoint me. You're just like your father.” Father flinched, face lifting up like Jin Ling does when he wants to appear taller than his peers. He was surely taller than anyone in the room, but the action looked simply to hide the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Your Father never felt the pain of those he hurt and lived the rest of his days trying to understand it but couldn’t. He became weak because of it!” Great Uncle slashed his sleeve through the water, the black ink splattering across like a stepping stone. The ooze was up to their chest now. “I vowed that you will never be anything like your joke of a father the day I got you!” 

Father yelled, “Do not speak of my father that way!” easily cutting off what Qiren was going to say, but the man was getting increasingly louder as he finished his words over Father’s:

“...and because of that I will ensure you live never to forget what you have done! ”

“Uncle please--” Xichen let out a sob, as Great Uncle grasped at Father’s face holding him at the chin. If Sizhui wouldn’t have known better, it looked as if Uncle was getting ready to slap him. Bobo picked up the pace, grabbing at his Uncle’s shoulder with one hand as he kept Sizhui in the other, or so he assumed, because the water was up to their shoulders, “please take mercy on him, he’s lost so much. Uncle you’ve cared for us like sons! Please don’t let your anger control you!” 

Ah… Anger, Sizhui grimaced, an old friend that does pretty bad things. Uncle looked very tired as he looked back at Xichen and closed his eyes slowly. “A-Huan,” he said louder, for the older man to hear, “A-Zhan,” he turned to Father.

“Do not call me that.” Father snapped, the water around him was vibrating with how bad he was shaking, “you do not get to use the name Wei Ying used to call me in adoration. Don’t pretend like your're my father. ”

The three blood related Lans just stared at each other, Father’s fingers rose from the water to grasp at his head as if the words in his brain were consuming him. Great Uncle closed his eyes again, pushing Xichen back slightly “Grab him.” He ordered the disciples and like a wounded animal, Father started to fight. 

With an uppercut, Father easily took out the first guy to his left, but the disciple on his right grasped him by the shoulder, easily pulling him backwards. There was a slight struggle of power, the water sloshing loudly, it was about up to their chins at this point and Sizhui was struggling to stay above the surface. Even if the inky water wasn’t tangible- it still took all the air out of his lungs when it reached up at his face. Father was easily bobbing over the surface, it was obvious that he was finally detained, but he was struggling to look over Great Uncle’s shoulder.  

“Xiōngzhǎng Huan-Ge... please!!” Father's voice was pleading, but with every slosh of the inky water that pushed over his face- it muted the words. Sizhui let out a yelp as his head plummeted under the water, the noise beneath the surface was only that of a baby crying . He was struggling to stay afloat, inhaling the blackness that burned his lungs and seared like molten lava. Breaking the surface of the water again he was just able to hear Father’s last words as he pulled himself under- “ Watch over my son!”

Like an undertow, Sizhui was pulled underwater as well. His hands flailing at the surface, feet kicking so hard his thighs began burning. The inky blackness was consuming him, filling his whole body with a sense of dread and disappointment. His mouth broke the surface, taking just a baby breath of air, before he was tucked back under and the water rushed in, it was sour, foul tasting. The motivation he had to fight was starting to drain as with every push of his legs and pull upwards he found himself not breaking the water. His vision was failing him, cheeks burning as if he was crying until suddenly he was met with a useless kind of bliss. His legs stopped kicking and his lungs felt numb, with a final gulp of the nauseating water...the world became white. 

The air in Sizhui’s lungs slammed in his chest as he appeared back at the steps. Father leaned over in his hand he began to cough up the black ooze that had drowned them previously. The representation of the grief was now in Father’s body and it was hurting him. He could feel his face burning and Sizhui fingers curled to itch at his crawling skin, but Father made no move to step up.

“What is black and what is white!” 

Father’s disembodied voice was so loud it shook the trees, blanketing them with more snow as he made his way up the impossible steps. His toes grabbed purchase, trying their best to help him while his hands gripped the railing, it was as if the stairs were telling him to go back. He wouldn’t, couldn’t , go back. Father was allowing him to see these memories and he wouldn’t waste away in the snow. It was cold, ruthless , and yet he pushed with a passionate drive. 

He felt as if he was failing with every slip of his heel and he had to grab tightly at the handrail to keep him from falling backwards. The stairs were only four steps high, but it felt as if he was moving mountains with every step he climbed. 

With deft hands grasping at the handrail, Sizhui in Father’s conscious willed the body to the top of the steps, breathing in the cold air as he was met with a break that from the bottom of the stairs looked as if the perfect exit, but all he could see were more icy stairs that climbed up their way up to a top of a mountain. His feet were knocked from under him as a wave of sadness filled his heart. How could someone get to the top of this icy hill without killing themselves halfway! 

Like kicking a man while he was down, Sizhui back began to bloom in pain and then with a sudden ‘thwack’ as if all the air was knocked out of his lungs, that sent him spiraling down the steps. Right when his flank was ready to kiss the floor, Sizhui’s eyes opened up to a memory. 

Sizhui could feel Father kneeling in the snow- now inside his body he erupted with a muddle of emotions that banged at his head and thrummed with a migraine. His body though incredibly cold, he could feel Father’s robes soaked through to bite at his knees. Father’s figure was immovable, not even a sway in his spine as he didn’t move. Eyes focusing on his hands that rested in his lap. “Lan Wangji, are you still going to sit there and pretend you haven’t done anything wrong?” Great Uncle Qiren’s voice was booming, shaking with anger as his feet were stomping so loud it was audible from the snow, but Father refused to meet the man’s face. “You attacked the elders!” He screamed, “you turned your back for what?! A fling with that troublemaker and his-” 

“Yuan,” Father’s voice was icy, just like the snow he was kneeling on, “my son’s name is Yuan!” Anger filled his chest and was bubbling with every step. Father wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to throw his hands in the air and just finally give up . He was slipping backwards, with Mother now dead. All this grief and sorrow was making Father sick with emotions. Some would say snow is peaceful, but to Father it was bitter, sneering , a salt in his already bone deep wounds. His fault lines were shaking and splitting open and he was falling down his steps. 

“A bastard is what he is!” Grand Master cried, lifting a hand and Sizhui was met with the blooming of a stinging pain. He felt the taste of the whip that was used to discipline his Father crack with an almighty fire that burned his skin like an out of control arson. 

Sizhui had known only of stories that detailed the horrors of the discipline whip. Every clan had their own concept of one that stood for the highest form of punishment- aside from public execution. Whoever was whipped, was meant to live to never forget their wrongdoings. Sizhui could count on both hands how many times someone of the Lan clan had been whipped, thousands that had come before him had been beaten with the discipline rods...but the bullwhip… less than ten, including his father. 

The Lan’s discipline whip, was solid black, the handle made of the jade that once hung from the belt of Lan An, the founder of Gusu Lan and Sizhui’s ancestor. The braided leather of the actual whip came from the original binding of Lan An’s diaries, the pages perfectly preserved in the library after the covers were cut and attached to the handle. The whip in its entirety was a symbol of everything Lan An built, those that were whipped, were beaten until Lan An’s energy was satisfied. 

“A-Zhan, if your parents could see you now! They’d cringe! That minx trapped you in a relationship and you still went to his protection! He has strayed you from your good path! ”  

Sizhui’s thoughts broke away for just long enough to think of what his life could have been had his mother not been the one to give him life. There had been so many moments where both his Bobo and Baba had told him of how much he was like his Mother. Trying to put those pieces together over the years had been a mess of confusion to truly get an idea of whether his mother was a chaotic firecracker or one who cared so immensely it was almost reckless, or worse...both. 

The whip stung again, licking up the back of Father’s shoulder and cracked like a lightning. All the air in Sizhui’s lungs was ripped from him and yet he still found himself breathing in the crisp air, “what is black and what is white!” Father snarled, his whole body thrusting forwards from the strike of the whip, “who has the right to judge and who is to blame! I love them! ” 

CRACK!

The whip was like a razor, one with furious teeth that took Father’s flesh and ripped it from his body. Everything was on fire, his mouth filling with coppery blood as every cut sent Father spiraling over and over again for every time he was subjected to the torture. Finally, bliss was received when the thirty-third whip connected in the gore of Father’s back and that was the moment strong, mountain of Father collapsed in the snow. 

Around Father’s body there was a pool of black ooze instead of blood. Sizhui let out a cry of pain with every slam the whip metaphorically ripped his skin apart, but he knew deep down that this wasn’t his skin, it was Father’s. The whip burned their skin like a wildfire and the black ooze was flicking off of the whip with every strike. Everytime the bullwhip broke the air, the world around them was getting darker and dimmer, squeezing them in emptiness for every lick. When the final strike nailed them, Sizhui had felt like a whole year had passed, because even though there was no more direct assault, the wounds gaped and seared with an almighty wrath. It wasn’t until Great Uncle’s boots squished in the snow as he walked over and leaned into Father’s hazy peripheral vision and began to speak, “Is the pain worth it? Wangji you have always been admirable, but do you realize, what you have done is not even in defense of a pureblooded Lan” he stopped suddenly as if he couldn’t think of what to say next, but his following sentence was like a snake that sneered venomously, “you made all this fuss over one bastard child?”

“Sizh--Siz...” Father's voice was a broken echo, completely unintelligible... one that shook every building in the area but didn’t seem to be noticed by those in the memory. Great Uncle backed up from Father, throwing his sleeves back with his usual uptight anger and stormed off. 

When everyone began to leave, Father closed his eyes and let the cold of the snow chill his hot cheeks that spilled with tears. He couldn’t move, his whole body willing him to stay in one position from the stinging of every laceration, but nothing could quench the fire that Father was feeling. Like in the rain, Father let out a loud scream, one full of his sorrow, anger, loss, every failure and bad luck he suffered. 

Snow began to fall and with Great Uncle having no intentions of Father receiving medical care, the young man laid there unmoving as the snow filled his wounds, creating a slush of blood and mutilated skin. Sizhui had been a close friend of his Father’s whip scars, having cared for them most of his childhood. He knew which ones were the deepest and which ones always broke open. The ones that needed constant medicinal care, and the ones that were like butterfly skin, so delicate that even a stray wind made them flare. Sizhui felt father's short struggling breaths, and a split second of helplessness. The kind of helplessness that begged for attention, begged for help from anything, anyone. 

‘Help...please. I have a son to live for… I can not leave him as well!’

A stumble of steps, or rather a mess of steps clattered against the wood in which Father laid on. Grasping tight to the hand, Sizhui knew it was Bobo. There was a mess of concern written across his brow, and still he held tight onto the bundle in his arms, only this time, the infant had been changed into a classic long white folded cloth, he swam in the mess of fabric. Those robes Sizhui had seen in his adult life when the clan welcomed a new life, they were the ones that the babies wore only for the first week, because they always outgrew them by then. Infant Sizhui had however, after being upon the world for nearly a month, barely fit into them. Around his body Bobo had wrapped a thick embroidered light blue Lan blanket, that pleated over his arms and fell like water all around him. Certainly the infant was warm and fed at this point, now sleeping. 

“Wangji!” 

“X-Xiōngzhǎng… Y-Yuan…?” Father’s face was riddled with pain, and confusion, barely keeping his eyes open.

“He’s alright, Wangji...he’s here, we need to go!” Bobo, looked entirely distressed, searching over his shoulder and unable to focus on his didi in front of him. For good reason, it didn't matter that Xichen had long been the clan leader of Gusu Lan, that changed nothing when it came to interpersonal punishment, if Great Uncle or any of his special disciples found Xichen helping Wangji, he would certainly be next to be whipped. 

“S-S..Siz..” Father mumbled over a broken breath, his neck twisted and strained to be lifted to gaze at the bundle in Bobo’s arms. He hadn't even lifted his head more than a few centimeters, before a choked gasp broke his focus and his head met the ground once more. 

“What is it Wangji?!” If he hadn't been panicking before, Bobo was definitely panicking now. So much he even fully knelt to the ground his body nearly bent entirely over the bundle of blankets that was Sizhui’s body, only the infant's gentle face visible. 

Though his agony and torment were unbearable, a determination rose within Father to meet the tiniest amount of space that existed between his face and that of the face of his son. He turned his head and brought his fingers inches high enough to brush the edges of Sizhui’s blankets. Relief filled his chest, and it scared Sizhui, because it was not the relief that meant everything was going to be okay...it was the relief that came at the end of the story. When the characters had nothing left to give… 

The soft feather of Yuan’s jet black hair, blew in the wind, his eyelashes catching beautiful unique snowflakes. 

“S-Sizhui... X-Xiōngzhǎng… His name is Lan Sizhui..” he told Bobo, his fingertips falling from the blankets to the frozen cherry wood and leaving him in a sudden wake of bliss. Sizhui meant to recollect, he had known that when Father taught him how to write his name character. A name filled with the yearning for uncomprehensible losses, and the memories that they left behind. 

Sizhui's eyes opened up to a lack of pain in his back, but here he was where he had started. Body laid out under the apple blossoms, stripped of everything as he was just told the story of his origin. The people who fought for him , the emotions, the watercolor of missing memories and trauma that unraveled like one loose thread to a whole entire tassel. Sizhui finally let his eyes fall shut and allowed himself to cry, letting the tears rain down his cheeks, hiding in the crook of his nose, tasting the saltiness on his lips. He was right back where he started and now looking upon the field he could see melting snow in the sunlight. At the end of day, gazing from the field he laid at, he was at the top of the mountain . It’s icy stairs that were so hard for him to climb up were not achieved by himself, they were climbed by his Father. Every turmoil he had felt, for every icy step he slipped on, for every need to scream with nobody to accompany him with, Father had climbed those stairs so Sizhui could sit at the top of them.  

Father wasn’t like Uncle Jiang who could tell Sizhui endless stories of Mother, because Father's brain was confusing and endless . A whole circle to explain his shortcomings, but in no way was Sizhui not thankful for what his Father had done for him . He had sat at the top of this hill all his life and never wondered how he got up so high, nor did his Father ever let him look over the side of the mountain and wonder what it was like to transverse such difficult obstacles. Under the tree materialized Father’s white Guqin on a low table, the same beautiful wood with the engraving of Wangji that told everyone the spiritual instrument’s name. 

Sizhui crawled across the apple blossoms and through wet snow to touch the strings of the instrument to feel the breath of his own spiritual energy thrum from the strings. It played a familiar lullaby, one filled with a journey that spoke more numbers than any song should ever. Sizhui closed his eyes and finally let his head lay on top of the table the guqin rested on, feeling the vibrations of the instrument begin lulling him to sleep. Though this time he wasn’t ready to die yet, he was ready to wake up and give his Father the biggest thank you in the world. 

___❀___

Pain.  

Pain was the first thing that Sizhui could feel when he woke up. Instantly, he knew he was alive and even if he was in excruciating pain, it felt really nice to be alive. In the dream land he had been perfectly bliss from any of injuries, but in real life his side was pulsing with a dull ache. His lips were dry from breathing through his mouth and his nostrils were clogged with blood, it was unpleasant, yet so human. As he became familiar with the movement of his fingers and toes his ears were picking up a distant song coming closer and closer to him. He couldn’t open his eyes, scrunching them to try and get the crust to fall away. 

“Sizhui...come back, I am right here...Don’t be scared.”

“Lan Zhan! He’s waking up!” 

The humming voice was familiar and after laying there for a few seconds he was able to pick up the notes of the lullaby Father had usually played for him in his childhood, not to mention the first song he learned how to play. Now he instantly recognized it to be the same one that was played on the guqin at the end of his dreams. A damp towel was being pressed to his forehead, before it gently moved down to begin removing the crust on his eyes. It was such a gentle and cool touch, that it practically coaxed Sizhui out of his unconsciousness. It was enough for his fluttering eyelids to open up and be met with the harsh sunlight that made him groan in discomfort. 

“Shhh..” A familiar voice whispered beside him, the wet towel patting the side of his cheek, a slight laugh carried the melody of the voice “you survive getting stabbed, qi deviation and the first thing you complain about is the sunlight,” Momma clicked his tongue, not removing the towel from his feverish brow “silly child...” 

Sizhui wanted to chuckle, but found his chest blooming in pain from just the slight shake of diaphragm. So instead he opened his eyes again and willed the sun to not burn his retinas. There he was met with the face of his Mother, one that now since he had seen the memories of his Father’s youth, it was like the face of Mo Xuanyu that gazing down at him had morphed into the high cheekbones and straight nose of his Mother’s real face. It was strange, but Sizhui thought that since his Father gave him his memories, some of them stuck in his brain enough to morph the stranger’s face. After seeing mothers face in memories of such intense detail, Sizhui would not have been surprised if he started seeing his Mother’s face everywhere now. In a few blinks his vision would go back to just seeing Mo Xuanyu as it always had…

But even when the sun cleared, and his eyes were no longer burning from the blurriness of his surroundings, Mo Xuanyu's face never returned to what Sizhui was used to...Mother was in front of him, in perfect detail. His dark, inky hair was spilling out of a messy bun collected at the top of his head, as if he just got out of bed...or never gone to bed for that matter. His robes weren’t the black silks, but what looked to be borrowed from one of Father’s collection of white robes. It made Sizhui question how long he had been unconscious...he had to have assumed multiple days and nights, for Mother to have changed his hanfu... Mother looked good in white, it was something that he wanted to familiarize, of Mother sticking around in their clan, or more importantly their home. 

However, even though it felt so real, Sizhui found himself wondering if this was all a dream. His first dreams of his Mother were the figure leaning over looking at his sleeping body, his chest and limbs not being able to move in the least bit. Back then he wanted nothing more than to be able to touch his mother’s skin and feel his gentle hold. A fear began to develop within his chest as it scared him to think that this whole situation could have been a fluke, so he reached up a hand. Or at least tried, inside his head was screaming at him for the simplest of movement. The most edge of his fingertips brushed the hollow of Mother’s cheekbone, just barely being able to extend his arm before sore muscles began to screech in pain. Just as his arm began to fall back down to his side and his frustration began to boil, he realized the difference now to his dreams. His palm hadn't even made contact with the white sheet before it was caught quickly and held. Sizhui was astonished as Mother brought his hand back upon his cheek and leaned into his palm. To make it even more surreal Mother covered Sizhui’s hand with his own and brushed gently with the pads of his fingers. 

“M-Mama...” Sizhui whispered, already feeling tears prick at his eyes, an overwhelming feeling bursting in his chest like someone was squeezing so tightly became painfully present. “M-Mama? No it can’t be? I must be--” He had to be in heaven, the preview of his Father’s memories must have been a prequel to what was to be offered in the afterlife. It was the trail he had to endure if it meant that he was to experience utter perfect bliss in the warm light that was the one thing he had wished for all his life. It was too good to be true, Mother was too real to be true…

“No baobei,” Mother turned his head into Sizhui’s hand, pressing a warm kiss to the faded scar from when he was a baby on the inside of his wrist, “in the afterlife you would not have me. I am with you now... and i’m not going anywhere. We are together at last....” Together . Two people connected to find each other again. Their lives intertwined like braids of a horsetail. Sizhui’s eyes had released that dam that held back all his tears and they began to spill down his cheeks. Seeing this of course, his Mother reached out and a gentle hand began to wipe away the streaks with the pad of his thumb.. “Do not cry my beloved, if you cry-- I’ll start crying too.” 

Sizhui didn’t want Mama to start crying, but he just couldn’t stop the endless tears spilling down his cheekbones. They ran off like rain on the top of the roof, dripping messily on the bedsheets of his daybed and yet Sizhui couldn’t care less. Through a blurry image he could see the beautiful picture of his Mother and know he was finally safe. Everything was exactly the same, from his clear warm eyes, the sharp cheekbones, and surprisingly a tiny lightened freckle beneath his lip. A warm feeling filled his chest, because for the first time he didn’t have to search and question why he was born or who his Mother was in the wake of his death, no Mother was just as alive as Sizhui was. 

“M-Mama-!” he finally wailed, reaching up his other hand to grasp at the only thing he could grab, which was one of the long tresses of Mother’s hair. It made him think he was acting like a baby, yet he was in a lot of pain and had a right to be a baby. Mother had taken no issue with Sizhui pulling on the tresses of the hair that fell down his back, in fact if you were to ask Wei Ying, it was the one thing that made this just as real for him. He’d let Sizhui pull on his hair all day if it meant he could stay right there in his arms. 

The door to the Jingshi opened, the wood scraping in a familiar tone of his childhood. Mother laughed his own tears pooling as he turned his head in the direction of the door. He took Sizhui’s hand from his cheek and intertwined their fingers, “Lan Zhan...” Mother’s lips were quirked, possibly even quivering with tears, “look who has finally decided to wake up...” 

“Baba,” Sizhui called out with a shaking, hoarse voice. It was like the best dream in the world to see his Father’s face appear right next to Mother’s. Solidifying the fact that he wasn't actually dreaming and the two most important people in his life were finally together. From a distance Father gave him a warm smile, one he only kept for the closest people he loved. Sizhui felt himself scrambling to keep his focus on his Father, not even realizing the simple act of holding up his own body weight without his Mother’s shoulder was exhausting. 

“A-Yuan...You have seen your father your entire life, do not strain yourself over his presence.” Sizhui felt his mother lower his body back to the bed just as a different, slightly bigger hand brushed Sizhui’s cheek, pushing a strand of hair out of his face and behind his ear. Father’s fingers were long calloused from a lifetime of guqin playing, the ridges a solemn comfort. 

“Baba...thank you…” Sizhui couldn’t think of anything else to say. Father smiled leaning down and silently kissed his eyelashes, a habit of his from Sizhui’s infant days. The hours of pacing back and forth trying to get Sizhui to calm himself, would always end with a kiss to his lashes.  

So much had happened between them that ‘thank you’ didn’t seem like enough to say. He was reminded of his childhood once more when Bobo and Father would always tell him, ‘when you feel like there is so much to say and yet there are no words to describe it, let the air speak for itself.’  There was so much that Father allowed him to see, private moments in his life that he cherished. 

When one would give their memory to another it was something profound, because like a watercolor painting, those memories would bleed from the person and disappear quicker. Mother turned to Father with a confused look, Father must have not told him what he had done. Instead the Lan-born man just leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Mother’s head, holding it there for a beat longer than he should have, “A-Yuan,” Father soothed pulling away from Mother’s strewn hair, “there is no need for thanks or apologies, it was my choice.” 

“But they are your memories!” Sizhui tried, not missing the way Mother’s red rimmed eyes lit up frantically as he had finally realized what had gone down.

“I refuse to accept this tone...A-Yuan, as my son you are just as entitled to those memories as I was privileged to live them. I was willing to give them, because I knew if you came back to us...there would only be more memories to make.” Father said in a blunt, no-nonsense tone, “Come, let Mother help you sit up, I’ve brought you food.” Though to most people, the way Father’s voice seemed almost cold, but to Sizhui he knew it meant more than just being mean. Father didn’t need thank yous, because Mother was sitting right next to them, his memories had their time to be important, but now they were just distant past. Mother was there to make new memories, together as a family.  

Mother wrenched a hand under Sizhui’s back to start to drag him in a more comfortable position, it felt like running a mile when his whole body was being propped up to the back of the daybed. Sizhui's stomach was alite with pain, with the young heir's shirt open. his curious hand moved the bandage upwards to stare at the stitches that stuck out like a sewn up doll. It was rather unpleasant to look at. Sizhui covered the bandage with his hand, feeling as if there was a pulse under his palm. “Now, now,” Mother tutted, pulling Sizhui’s hand away from peeking under the dressing and pulled his shirt tightly over his chest, “you’re just like me, if you fuss with your wounds they’ll never heal!” he scolded, even if the tone was harsh Sizhui basked in being reprimanded. 

When Father came back with a tray of food, Mother clambered into bed with Sizhui, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. Sizhui laid his head on Mother’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he took in the smells of blooming lotuses and cinnamon sticks. In the dreams, the smells were so intense it was as if every step he took was with Mother right by his side. Father sat down at the foot of the bed, taking a hand to rub Sizhui’s knee in comfort, before he set the tray on top of his lap. “It smells good,” Sizhui’s mouth vomited instantly, as a good son would always compliment his Father’s cooking, he stared quickly feeling a rumble in the deepest bit of injured stomach at the floating bits of ribs. 

“Lan Zhan,” When Sizhui looked up at his Mother’s voice he saw tears in the man’s silver eyes. He shook his head at the concerned looks, wrapping an arm around Sizhui’s shoulder to tenderly touch the side of the boy’s head so they could bump skulls. “Who taught you how to make lotus root and pork soup?” 

Father hummed, stirring the spoon around the liquid, before he scooped up enough and brought it to Sizhui’s lips. He closed his mouth around the spoon, humming in delight at the burst of earthy flavor of lotus and strong, salty flavor of the pork. “Yanli-jie had taught me,” Father’s voice was a shy murmur as he scooped up more of the liquid and presented it to his son, “when you were injured after the last battle at the Sunshot campaign. I planned to make it for you, but you said when you got pregnant that it tasted bad.” 

Mother looked flabbergasted, eyes bubbling with even more tears as he brought Sizhui’s head closer to his and reached up to grab Father’s hand holding the spoon. The soup that was supposed to be fed to Sizhui was diverted so Mother could eagerly take his own share, “I’m not pregnant anymore!” he joked when he got the exasperated look of his son and husband, “it tastes really good dear, your Wei Ying demands you make us more!”   

“Mama,” Sizhui whined, his grip frail on the arm around his shoulder, “I’m the injured one,” he could feel an infectious smile pulling on his lips, as Mother lightly bumped their heads again. 

“Ah, but our Lan Zhan takes good care of us, regardless of our health. My baby boy is so strong now, I know my Lan Zhan did a good job when I was gone,” Mother’s eyes were distant, but his hand was comforting in Sizhui’s hair as he played with the strands of his loose bun. 

“Not gone anymore.” Father smirked 

Wei Ying looked up from his long gaze down at his son in the crook of his arm, and smiled at his husband. The man responded equally with a small smile and brought himself closer to brush his fingers through not only Wei Ying’s hair, but then to trace the side of his son’s cheek, brushing his thumb under his long and very tired eyes. Lan Zhan knew the pain of Qi deviation and memory transfer would keep Sizhui bed ridden for a while, and the best thing for the heir was to sleep at this moment. Just by rubbing the pad of his thumb under the boys eyes, he watched as Sizhui fought sleep. 

It was very much like when he was a baby, Xichen would spend hours walking back and forth, just waiting for the baby to fall asleep, but every minute he fought it. Seeing this Wei Ying felt at peace and rested his hand on top of Lan Zhan’s wrist, looking down at Sizhui. 

“Yes... Together once more.” Sizhui’s chest felt warm as his parents' shared cultivation naturally flowed into his chest and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard another voice, quiet and reserved. 

“Sizhui…? Lan Furen, Hanguang Jun...may I come in?” The voice was not unfamiliar and Sizhui instantly felt the urge to sit up in his bed, to get up and run into the voice’s arms. He felt beyond frustrated that he could barely strain his neck to meet the owner of the voice, as not only his weakness was overwhelming but his father was blocking his view. Through his feverish gaze he could see Jingyi standing in the archway of the Jingshi, his hands folded patiently in front of him and his feet turned inward like a cautious child. 

"J-Jingyi…” 

“Lan Jingyi.”  

Both Sizhui strained to speak loud enough at the same moment his fathers commanding tone filled the small space. Wei Wuxian took note of Jingyi’s presence pulling his gaze to the boy and back to his husband, whose posture was very similar to that of a protective wolf. Sizhui’s fingers brushed ever so slightly against his father’s sleeve and, noticing the butterfly touch of his son, Lan Zhan’s head whipped back to focus on him. 

“B-Baba...it’s alright he can come in.” Sizhui whispered reassuringly, trying his best to smile with little success. Lan Wangji being both a father and a teacher at this moment felt like he had enough authority to order Jingyi to leave and not come back. It is not that he was angry with the young disciple for any specific reason, it was just Jingyi had always made Lan Wangji...curious. His behavior was curious, his mannerisms too, and Wangji will still admit to this day that he did not believe in Xichen’s choice to make Jingyi the second in command to Sizhui. The only thing Lan Zhan needed Jingyi for, was to be a playmate to his son, and that's it, anything more and Lan Zhan immediately became protective. 

“Lan Jingyi...Sizhui needs his rest, this is not a good ti-” Wei Ying suddenly cleared his throat, purposefully loudly, as to grab his husband's attention. “Lan Zhan, perhaps just for a moment.” Having recognized a little of himself in Jingyi, Wei Wuxian wouldn’t alienate the young boy from Sizhui. Wei Wuxian looked down at his son, who looked relieved and still so tired. “But, only for a moment. You need your rest, A-Yuan...Lan Zhan we will return in just a moment.” 

Wei Ying excused himself from Sizhui’s side, being ever so gentle as to lay him back flat against the bed, a mound of pillows to support his back and neck. Sizhui flinched a few times as to be expected, but after assuring he was comfortable, Wei Ying guided his fingers over his husband's hand and relaxed his gaze, pulling him away from the bed's edge. “We will be just outside the door, Sizhui…” He whispered, pressing a kiss to his warmed forehead. 

“T-Thank you, Mama.” Yuan smiled. 

The door to the Jingshi shut gently, one that made Sizhui want to flinch, just because it still felt so loud in his head. Father and Mother were gone, he turned to Jingyi without a word and was waiting for the younger boy to jump into his arms. Yet, the moment just hadn’t come. Jingyi was skirting the side of the bedroom, hand pressed to the cabinet as if it was his lifeline. “Jingyi?” Sizhui asked gently, his voice feeling raw, scratching against his throat.

Jingyi visibly cringed, his whole happy exterior plummeting to a look of absolute horror, “I thought I was gonna lose you; you stopped breathing and I started panicking and I-  Zewu-Jun was there and I told him everything about the disciples that had hurt you and you made me promise not to! But I did anyway! And you were bleeding and I couldn’t do anything and--” There were tears running the track of Jingyi’s cheeks as he cut off his ramblings with a really loud inhale of breath. 

Sizhui's heart was bleeding, but at the same time he was very fond of the boy, of course Jingyi would blame himself for the doings that weren’t even his fault, “J-Jingyi stop. Come here…” he trailed off slightly, raising a weak hand to motion the younger boy to bed. 

Jingyi rushed forward and knelt at his bedside, bowing his head into the fabric of the mattress so he wouldn’t be forced to stare in those guilted eyes. Sizhui fondly stroked the top of his lover’s head, a smile quirking on his lips. He knew those feelings of regret that were probably coursing through Jingyi’s body as he watched the rise and fall of his shoulders hitch with every sob. “I made a vow long ago to protect you! Protect you with my own life! And look what happened!”

Sizhui stopped him and held his palm feeling heavier on Jingyi’s head until his fingertips skirted down to under his chin, gently rising the boy’s face. Jingyi wanted to fight the gentle touch, but found himself leaning into the palm. Though the bones of Sizhui’s spine creaked in pain, he still bent down to press a chaste kiss to the side of Jingyi’s lip. “I don’t blame you,” Sizhui whispered, keeping their words between them if his overprotective Father was listening in, “I have never blamed you for anything, I-” he choked on a slightly jilted breath, coughing slightly that had Jingyi rising back to his feet and pushing Sizhui to lay back into the bed. 

“Look what happened though, I just brought you pain,” Jingyi’s eyes pricked with more tears as he hastily grabbed a rag draped over the bucket, dipping it in the water and remembering to wring it like Lan Furen taught him. With every movement, he could feel Sizhui’s golden eyes following him like a hawk, “I’m sorry… I should have gone with you to the infirmary. I will do better.” In a mechanical fashion, Jingyi bowed his head. Completely textbook, as if Bobo was standing behind him correcting every action. Jingyi had been trained from a young age just as Sizhui had been. Jingyi was to act, walk, talk in a certain way that was befitting of a second hand and it was Bobo who taught him how, or rather ingrained it into a part of Jingyi. Truly Sizhui hated it, but knew that if it brought Jingyi comfort to act like he had been taught, then it was okay in Sizhui’s mind. 

“Oh Jingyi,” Sizhui smiled toothily, patting the part in Jingyi’s hair that was exposed to him, “you have no need to get better, you’re still the best retainer in the world-” Jingyi lifted his head at that, look quizzical, “Don’t worry, I haven't forgotten you’re my boyfriend as well, the best one I’ve had...” 

“The only one you’ll have.” 

“That is solely your choice.” Sizhui smirked, rubbing his chest. 

“Sizhui…” Jingyi whined, drawing out the end character in his name before he threw himself in the other’s arms. He kept his body weight on the upper part of Sizhui’s chest, but he still found himself careless in actions. The other didn’t care very much, eager to squeeze Jingyi with all the spiritual energy Sizhui had been saving up.

They sat there for what felt like years, squeezing the life out of each other, until Sizhui could feel himself growing restless in the sheets. His legs ached to walk around, toes wiggling around in the blanket as he wrangled himself from Jingyi’s suffocating grip to throw his bare legs over the side of the bed. “Hey, hey, hey!” Jingyi cried, stopping Sizhui at the shoulders before his feet could touch the floor, “you can’t go walking around yet! You just woke up!” 

Cue Sizhui utilizing his Mother’s signature puppy eyes, one full of sparkling irises brimming with tears as he looked at Jingyi through his eyelashes, “but my legs want to walk,” he pouted childishly, drawing shapes into the silk bed sheet, “we won’t go far! Plus Father will never see us, I promise!” he held up three fingers, lying through his teeth. Father was totally going to see them, he was inevitable to avoid. 

Jingyi however, looked to be weighing the options in his brain, head tilting each way as if he was talking to the angel and devil on his shoulder, “are you sure we won’t see him?” he asked quietly.

Sizhui nodded firm, totally going with the bit as Jingyi let out a sigh, helping his boyfriend up from the cot. 

___❀___

Wei Ying shut the door softly as he could, feeling his fingers curl around the lightweight wood of the sliding panel. His whole body was telling him to throw that door back open and rush towards his son. Through the transparent sheet on the door he could just see the glimpses of Jingyi, tucked in the back corner and wished his lucky star, the one who brought him back to life, that he’d protect his boy. Finally, it was like someone had brought a pickaxe to his dam, the tears began flooding from Wei Ying’s eyes. In almost surprise, he brought the heel of his palm to his under eye, looking at the wetness at the base of his knuckle. Wei Ying wasn’t sure why he was crying; happiness, worry, sadness? All of it was a jumbled mess of his silly emotions. 

With a surprised gasp, Wei Ying found a pair of big hands that swiped under his armpits to place their palms on his chest. Those careful hands were quite deceiving, because the push that the palms initiated had him spiraling into the chest of their owner that was rough and brought a giggle to Wei Ying's weary sobbing. “Husband,” Wei Ying cooed, reaching his own hands up to circle Lan Zhan’s neck, resting his intertwined hands at his nape, “don’t be so rough with your Wei Ying,” he pouted for good measure, “I am much more fragile now.” 

Lan Zhan hummed in his noncommittal way that brought another breath of chuckles out of Wei Ying's chest, feeling his husband pressed a dry kiss to the base of his jaw. Lan Zhan pulled back from the soft kiss on Wei Ying’s pulse, almost like he was making sure the other was alive and it wasn’t his imagination, before just resting his forehead on his beloved’s cheek, relishing in the lotus bud scent. “ A-Ying ,” Wangji smiled, actually smiling, full of teeth and gum that made Wei Ying weak to the knees. 

“No!” Wei Ying cried, releasing his long fingers to cup Lan Zhan’s cheeks, feeling the taught skin of his muscles that produced the blinding sun grin, “no! We must hide your precious smile!” With no further direction, Wei Ying leaned in, smiling into the kiss of teeth. Lan Zhan hummed, passed it through their lips, bringing another burst of warmth from each other. There was a campfire building itself in Wei Ying’s gut, it was as if he was a teenager again, sharing kisses with his crush behind a tree. Well, his crush was his husband, so his analogy was a little counterintuitive, but nonetheless he felt like a kid again.

“Come,” Lan Zhan spoke into his lips, Wei Ying wishing that he was meaning more in a dirtier sense than a command, “I wish to show you something.” 

The rough hands around Wei Ying’s chest slid upwards until Lan Zhan could place his palms over the one’s holding his cheeks. The Jaded Lan intertwined their fingers, before he pulled him away from the Jingshi porch. In his blood, Wangji wanted to keep close so if Sizhui deviated again he would be there in minutes time, but a part of him knew Jingyi would run like a chicken with it’s head cut off if that would happen and half of Cloud Recess would be alerted. Wei Ying easily fell into his steps, he was smaller in his new body so when he bumped Lan Zhan with his shoulder it hit him at his upper arm. It was so fond, it made his cheeks hurt from smiling more. 

Lan Zhan didn’t care what body Wei Ying was in, he would always be his soulmate. Though he did enjoy his most beloved wife’s handsome features, now illuminated as if it were a dream. To anyone else who saw Wei Ying currently, it would be no more than Mo Xuanyu. But... because of not only the past fourteen years, Sizhui’s constant dreaming and subsequently his Qi Deviation. Both Lan Zhan and Sizhui could no longer see Mo Xuanyu. Wei Ying’s face was a real and present as it had been for Lan Zhan fourteen years ago, nothing had changed. Hanguang-Jun was never one that needed to pinch himself to be assured, but as soon as Mo Xuanyu had removed his mask in The Treasure Room, the only face that existed was Wei Ying’s. In that moment Lan Zhan nearly punched himself in the face trying to assure himself that his eyes were not playing tricks nor were they dreaming. Standing now in front of him days later and just the two of them with no other prying eyes, Wei Ying was still real, just a little shorter and with now stunning, sharp silver eyes. 

“Jingyi and A-Yuan, huh,” Wei Ying eyes were lit up like special jewels, Lan Zhan though could feel his heart pattered around his chest, “they remind me of us, don’t you see it too?” 

“No,” He lied easily, finding his nose scrunching. The idea of giving up his precious son made him sick to the stomach. Lan Zhan knew there would be a part in his life that he’d have to hand his son over to another, seeing Sizhui wearing white with accents of red and with his heart on his sleeve, all of it was a little too much to think about. Wei Ying didn’t seem really bothered by his answer, his wife leaning in with his cat-like movements and pinching at Lan Zhan’s cheeks, having a hard time getting his forefinger and thumb on any flesh at how tight his cheekbones were. “Too soon,” his ears were starting to heat up, turning away from the other. 

“Mmhmm,” Wei Ying drawled out, bumping his nose on Lan Zhan’s shoulder like an affectionate cat. Wei Ying didn’t know where he was walking, in all honesty Lan Zhan could be leading him to a secluded part to smash his brains in, but Wei Ying would still be happy. He was so happy he could feel his chest swelling as he practically danced on the leaf ridden ground. Above them the trees were finally starting to lose their leaves, the mixture of auburn foliage littered the ground creating therapeutic crunches of fall. It would be soon that the sky would begin to cloud up and the rain would turn to ice- Wei Ying was excited to see a true snowfall in Gusu. 

It was around the end of November that he had left Cloud Recess to live with the Wens and January was when Sizhui was born in a rather hot climate, missing out on all the fun that was brought with the powdery coldness. The cloud air brought a type of harsh circulation that would tickle the lungs when inhaled too deeply, it brought a shiver to Wei Ying’s shoulders that Lan Zhan quickly shook their hands out of the intertwine to pull him close. “Where are we going,” Wei Ying asked, burrowing his cold nose into the hot flesh of Lan Zhan’s neck. 

“Nearly there,” He whispered, pressing a harsh kiss to the crown of Wei Ying’s head, feeling the glossy strands of hair tickle his lip and curl around his nose. There was a melancholy type of feeling that was overcoming his soul, having walked this path many times before. It was only right that they’d take it. Lan Zhan could close his eyes and still find himself to the same clearing, staring at the same stone, feeling the same dark pit of sadness that swirled in his core. Subconsciously, he drew Wei Ying closer to him as they got near, knowing it from the log in the middle of the path and the pathway of moss that squished under the sole of his boot. 

Then it was just two boys, standing without word in a cold clearing, faced with a small headstone. Tears were already dripping down Lan Zhan’s eyes, one that he held in, but felt them fall as his pupils were met with the gold nameplate. 

Wei Wuxian it read. An oval piece without a fancy frame, but the hand carved name. Wei Ying stood there, what felt like years passing as he took his first step forward, until he was taking many steps forward. He fell to his knees in front of the stone, brushing his fingers at the base where there was a piling of incense ash and then picked up the gold dish, testing the weight in his hand before setting it back down. “Lan Zhan?” he turned back, seeing his husband hadn’t moved yet, still standing at the threshold of the clearing, tears streaming down his face. 

Wei Ying rose from his spot to run to the other, Lan Zhan instantly opened up his arms to catch his wife and squeeze him with all his might. Wei Ying’s legs easily wrapped around his waist, holding on for dear life as he hid his cold face again in Lan Zhan’s neck. He felt so safe in the flesh, it was home. Wei Ying wished he had hugged Lan Zhan goodbye, wished he would have felt the man’s pulse under his breath as he could feel those strong arms wrap around his back and rest at his waist. There were times when Wei Ying felt like the worst of the worst, times that he felt like he was ugly for the way Sizhui had changed his body and Lan Zhan would come and hug him back into the real world. 

Now, he was doing that same thing, hugging him even when he felt unlovable. Wei Ying had teased Lan Zhan if he had burned paper money for him when they were in Yi City. At the time Lan Zhan had looked far off into the distance, his nose scrunching up in a way that Wei Ying knew that he was getting a headache. So he didn’t ask again, not wanting to encroach on something so hidden, and yet his answer was right in front of him. “You gave me a grave?” Wei Ying asked, his voice out of breath as he pulled away with a quivering lip. The tears were now steadily streaming down Lan Zhan’s cheeks, Wei Ying shaking his head as he brought his thumb out, feeling steady enough in his husband’s arms, to wipe them away. “Silly husband, I’m right here.” 

“It’s hard to process,” Lan Zhan closed his eyes, cheeks already flushed with emotions, “sometimes I think it’s just a dream and Da-ge will come and wake me up. Everything just a memory.” 

“Silly husband,” Wei Ying repeated, pinching Lan Zhan now a little harder by using his nails. The broad man flinched slightly, his eyes watery as he glared miminuscly, “See! Your Wei Ying pinched you and you didn’t wake up! It’s not just a memory, nor a dream. I am here.” 

“Hanguang-Jun!” Jingy's voice cried from the end of the path, Wei Ying shooting up like a rabbit to look over Lan Zhan’s shoulder. There, just two tiny figures, Sizhui lifted his arm to wave. He hobbled on his feet as if he were a newborn fawn, but with his own determination continued walking forward. He was being mostly held up by Jingyi who looked exasperated.  

“A-Yuan! You are meant to be in bed! Your wounds are still fresh!” Wei Ying wondered aloud, pushing himself off of Lan Zhan. Wei Ying moved quickly forward nearly kicking up a cloud of dust to get to Sizhui before he stumbled or fell completely. 

“Lan Jingyi...” Lan Zhan asked, quick to catch up, his long legs striding easily to stand beside Wei Ying who in a moment had his arm around Sizhui’s waist, the boy sacrificing most of his weight onto his Mother’s shoulder. Lan Zhan put on the sternest look he could fathom, not to Sizhui, but to Jingyi. 

If the Jingyi was a dog, his tail would be tucked between his legs as he deflated under the harsh glare. “Hanguang-Jun…” he muttered, eyebrows knitting together, “Sizhui just wanted some fresh air.” 

“Baba, really, it was my idea…” Sizhui said breathlessly, failing to reassure his father. “However, I will admit now, I more or less... regret this choice.” Sizhui struggled to maintain a steady hold on his breath and reached out to hold Jingyi’s hand. “But don’t blame him for listening to his master.” The young Lan heir felt like garbage saying those words out loud, but accepted that by saying those, it would relax his father just in the slightest bit. 

“Hm...” Lan Zhan muttered, taking a big hand to clasp it around Jingyi’s boney shoulder, “Jingyi...let’s chat,” he said in a way that there was no way of getting out of this shovel talk. 

A hand clasped at Lan Wangji’s bicep, his gold irises skirting across to make eye contact with a smiling Wei Ying and an exhausted Sizhui. “Go easy on the kid,” Wei Ying reminded gently, “We’ll meet you guys back at the Jingshi so I can get this rascal,” he added a slight stink-eye to Sizhui, “to bed.” 

“Please, Lan Furen, please ” Jingyi practically had tears in his eyes

“Do I hear something,” Wei Ying asked with the wave of his hand, winking up at Lan Zhan before slinging an arm under Sizhui to hoist him a little off his feet. Even though he knew his husband was going to be a little bit more harsher than his attempt at a shovel talk. He knew even from the simple moments he shared with Jingyi that the boisterous boy definitely needed a firmer conversation to guide him... if he was planning to pursue Hanguang-Jun’s most beloved son. Looking at Sizhui, he could see a similar look of mirth in his eyes, truly Wei Ying’s son. 

They walked, or more Wei Ying did most of the walking and Sizhui dragged behind. To ensure that his wife and son did not hear their conversation, Lan Zhan quickly urged Jingyi to walk ahead of him. Jingyi began sprinting as if Lan Zhan had a whip and was cracking it at the base of his heels. The Second Jade of Lan maintained his normal pace, as if he knew that he could catch up without even trying. He smiled lightly as he passed Wei Ying and Sizhui. Their laugh was almost identical in pitch and tone as the two men disappeared around a corner. 

“Don’t worry A-Yuan...your Father won’t do more than break his legs...yet.” Wei Ying grinned, “You really like that Jingyi boy, huh.”

Sizhui could feel his cheeks growing hot, “Mama,” he whined, tugging gently at the man’s bell sleeve, “stop teasing me!” 

“I have spent years not being able to tease you,” Wei Ying let out a musical laugh, he’d spent a long time thirsting for this type of familial love. Maybe it was because his parents left him so young and his adopted family wasn’t exactly the most welcoming. Wei Ying’s whole childhood was spent practically creating notes on how he’d want to treat his own child so he could be better than the adults around him. Madam Yu made a pretty common player in his how-to guide. Sizhui had turned to him with eyes full of stars and Lan Zhan’s nose and everything just felt so right . 

The warmth in Wei Ying’s chest was ready to explode as his eyes pricked with tears. His son in turned had enveloped him in a hug almost immediately, Sizhui’s small head nuzzling itself in Wei Ying’s sternum and cultivator trained arms squeezing tightly around his middle. “It’s okay, mama,” Sizhui’s own voice was starting to quiver, his fingers grabbing purchase on the back of the borrowed white hanfu. The words that he prepared to say sat on his tongue, the words Sizhui had always told an empty grave and never to his Mother’s sharp silver eyes, “I love you, Mama.” 

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, Wei Ying’s hands that were not yet wrapped around his son pulled him further in his chest. The floral scent of lotus buds just blooming and the looming of ash surrounded Sizhui’s senses and he couldn’t find another place to be. Hugging Mother was like a balm on his gaping wounds, the ones he couldn’t see. The trauma of growing up being the most hated child of the cultivation world was so easily forgotten with a warm palm pressed to the back of his skull pulling him in the junction of Mother’s swan neck to salve his tears. Sizhui knew that even when he grew old, much too old to cry in his Mother’s neck that he’d continue to do it, because the feeling it gave him was like the warmest of teas Father could never make. 

This wasn’t to say Father was bad at hugging, he was more selective of his affections. Where Sizhui could just rest his cheek on the man’s shoulder and let his tears fall without being judged, Mother hugged like he was trying to suck all the sadness from the marrow of his bones. “My baobei, my sweetest son, the most precious treasure of my life, not a day passed that I regretted leaving you in this life. Know that decision was the hardest to make and not a day went past that I didn’t blame myself for everything you have suffered.” 

“It’s not your fault,” the words were muffled into Mother’s shoulder, but Sizhui knew it got across to him, because Mother's whole body wracked with another sob. “Please don’t cry Momma, please stop I-” Sizhui pulled away in a panic, his shaking deft hands trying to push away the wetness on Mother’s freckled cheeks, “Baba, he gave me his memories...not once ever in my life have I ever thought you have hurt me.” he was rambling, trying to make Mama’s eyes light up with his stars. Sizhui didn't even notice that Wei Ying began to rub the tiny scar from his infancy on the inside of his wrist, gazing longingly as if there were still unspoken words about the orgin of said scar. Watching at how his Mother stroked longingly the slightly darken skin, his lip quivering, Sizhui could only assume that once more Mother was blaming himself... for something, what it was-- Sizhui wouldn't ask. “Even when I was too young to understand, I knew none of it was truly your fault.” 

“Baobei...” Mother's smile was warm, but bubbles of salty tears skated over his lips, “those memories… I am unsure of the ones your Father allowed for you to see, but he has never been one to withhold the past.” From the heartbroken look written all over Sizhui’s face, Wei Ying bit his lip trying not to allow his brain to make assumptions of what Lan Zhan actually did reveal.

“I have so many questions,” Sizhui sniffed, using the sleeve of his sleep robe to rub at his nose. 

It was only then that Wei Ying could finally see the dark circles marring his son’s porcelain skin. Leaning forward, he brought a thumb to stroke the circles under his eyes, a sad smile filtering across his lips. “I’ll answer all your questions when you're better,” Sizhui whined childishly, even if he was tired he still wanted answers, “now now,” Wei Ying tutted, tapping him on the tip of his nose, “if you start whining I might never say a thing! Who knew the child of the righteous Hanguang-Jun could be so puerile!” 

“I am my Mother’s son as well!” Sizhui grinned, eagerly pulling back into a warm hug. He wanted forever to be in his Mother’s arms, to take the feeling and trap it in a jar. Though, Sizhui also wanted to poke holes in the top of the jar, to let the feeling slip through the cracks so he could come back for more. A one time hug would never suffice. 

The two walked most of the way, Sizhui needing a quick break in the middle to catch his breath, before they were able to reach the Jingshi. “Hello?” Wei Ying called, sliding the door open to reveal an empty house, he turned back to Sizhui, “don’t worry, there is no blood. Surely your dearest Father couldn’t kill Jingyi that easy!” 

Sizhui barked with laughter at such a morbid thing to say, “Jingyi is skilled in the art of stealth knife fighting, if you saw him on the street you’d never see him coming,” the stealth knife fighting was a new skill that Sizhui hadn’t even known Jingyi had known. It wasn’t until they were in the inn that Jin Ling had snuck up on them that he saw Jingyi really go into action. Fingers deftly balancing a blade between knuckles, his eyes keen. It was extremely attractive. 

A hot blush bloomed on Sizhui’s face as he saw Mother raise his eyebrow as if he could read his mind. How embarrassing if he could! “If he’s so good, then I don’t want you to go anywhere without him at your side.” 

With a rustle of sheets and a few whimpers of pain, Sizhui sat heavily on his bed. “Mama, Jingyi isn’t my bodyguard!” It took a few moments of stopping and slowing down and not moving at all, to give Sizhui as painless of a transition as possible. Wei Ying silently was thinking that this was what Sizhui needed to understand as a consequence to his actions. 

“And?” Mother cried, pulling Sizhui’s shoe off his foot, “your Father protects me wherever I go! Shouldn’t Jingyi be taking notes! ” Sizhui was ready to contradict that sentence, a need in his chest told him to correct his Mom that Jingyi wasn’t just his watchdog, when the sliding door slammed open and there was the man they were talking about, Jingyi, who was panting like an old dog. “Oh my gods,” Mother stood up from the bed, pushing Sizhui back down on the mattress with a tough palm, “Jingyi!” He scolded, “what are you doing-?!” 

“Jin Ling is in Cloud Recess.” Jingyi stated, not even caring that he cut off someone as powerful as Lan Furen. 

No one moved, Mother gave Jingyi a slight nod, his hands going behind his back and Sizhui watched as Mother’s nails dug into the meaty flesh of his own palm. Mother moved across the room like a ghost, his robe trailing behind him as he stopped at the sword stand and picked Bichen up by her hilt. The metal flickered with frozen spiritual energy bursting like snowflakes in the air. Sizhui was surprised, but also he wasn’t. Mother had dual cultivated with Father hundreds of times, they shared very similar cores as well as Bichen recognizing both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian as her owners ( The sword would always recognize the anguish of either Wei Ying or Lan Wangji as they were the same person to the sword spirit. )  “If that boy comes near this Jingshi,” Mother eyes flamed dangerously, knuckles white as he gripped the sheath, “he may find more mercy in Hanguang-Jun, than in me.” Mother rubbed at his middle finger, as if there used to be a ring that sat upon the digit, but was there no more.

Jingyi bowed from the hips, whole body making a vertical drop, “Yes, Lan Furen! I will inform Hanguang-Jun of your words.” 

“However, Sizhui,” Mother turned back around, his tight figure drooping slightly at his son, “As much as I wish to have this be my decision, It must be yours..” 

It was a big decision, Sizhui fingertips just barely brushing his hanfu from his stomach to meet with the pale cream of the gauze. In his heart he wanted to see Jin Ling, to demand why he had turned his blade the minute his Mother was revealed, but hadn’t he warned Sizhui beforehand? He had made it apparent that Mother was his most hated enemy so why in the Gods’ names was he even here. It tasted foul in his mouth as he recovered his stomach, “I don’t wish to see him,” He said plainly, Jingyi scuffled around at the door, before shutting it with more force than necessary.

Mother came back to Sizhui’s side, setting Bichen vertically on one of the posts and then took a seat on the edge of the bed. Guiding Sizhui now down to lay completely flat, his hair fanned out against the pillow. He began carding through Sizhui’s locks, moving his fringe around in a fussing manner. “Mama?” Sizhui asked quietly, nibbling on his lip, “do you think I should forgive Jin Ling?”

Fingering out a slight knot, Mother’s face hadn’t moved in any indication of his feelings. He let out a soft hum, one similar to the one’s Father made when he wasn’t really sure what to say, “As I said before, dear,” Sizhui looked away, not wanting to meet Mother’s sword-colored gaze, “it isn’t my decision to make. It is up to you…” 

“-What if I don’t forgive him,” Sizhui filled in immediately when the air grew cold with no words. Honestly, the silence was grating his nerves, he wished Father would hurry back and begin to play for him, it was truly the only thing that recentered his mind. “I thought family was supposed to be there for each other and what he did to me… what he was going to do to you! ” 

“I won’t lie,” Mother’s eyes turned to the door, as if he was waiting for the inevitable, “Jin Ling has done many grievances towards you--  your Father wasn’t light on what happened before I was reincarnated. The names he called you make me as your Mother is disappointed to even call him my nephew. His Mother, my sister, would have a stroke if she knew what he had done, if-” Mother lips clamped shut as if he was stopping himself from saying what’s next, but instead he went on in a softer tone, “if Jiang Cheng would have known. I’m sure his execution punishment would be similar to Madam Yu.” 

“Jiujiu knew,” Sizhui closed his eyes, cutting himself off from even seeing Mother’s face, “he knew and he never did anything to stop Jin Ling. In Father’s memories, I heard Jiujiu’s voice… he killed you didn’t he?”  

The room had to drop in temperature, the silence that followed that statement was eerily quiet. Sizhui felt as if he just made the worst mistake in the world revealing that he knew that information. Opening his eyes, he saw Mother’s lips formed into a gape, his eyes wide, “A-Yuan…” shaking himself out of the state of shock.

“Mama..please, I promise to ask nothing else of you..” Sizhui had stopped blinking, the silence was deafening. But, Mother took a strand of his son’s hair and tucked it behind his ear. 

“Baby. We’ll talk about this at another date. My death…” a pregnant pause, “my death is a hard subject and I don’t blame those involved, but I know that they have guilt and they have grieved me. Years of grieving will never heal someone, even if that person comes back.” Wei Ying whispered. 

Sizhui eyes pricked as he reached his slacked hand to grasp at Mother’s, squeezing his knuckles, “I’m sorry, please forget I asked.” he whispered.

Mother’s eyes got strangely vacant as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Sizhui’s brow, “There should be no sorrys or thank yous between us. There was a time when a close friend of mine and an aunt to you had said those same words to me. Jin Ling should count his blessings that you have such a kind heart, as well as your Father…” Mother trailed off with a slight glint of a tear as pulled the blanket over Sizhui’s body and tucked him into bed, “it’s time to rest though, you’ve been active long enough. I will be just in the other room waiting for your father to come back.” 

Mother went to stand, but Sizhui grasped his arm, pulling him back down on the bed, “will you be here when I wake up? How will I know that this is not a dream.”

Leaning forward in Sizhui’s space, he was calmed by the scent of lotuses as Mother pressed the palm of his hand to his son’s sternum, right over his heart. “When you find doubt, follow your heart and you will find me. Every moment of your life that you called for me, I heard you, and every moment of your life to come, that you call for me... I will hear you and come running.” Mother pressed one last kiss to his son’s cheek, brushing his nose briefly at the soft flesh as he felt those soft eyelashes tickle his cheek. “Until this moment I truly didn’t know myself-- who I was or what I was meant for --but now it is just as it was the day you were born and the day that I left you. My life is meant for you and your father, nothing else. A-Yuan my darling son, I hope now your dreams are free of me, because we are not meant to dream of things that are true and of this world.” 

Wei Ying sat for as long as he needed before he saw Sizhui finally succumb to his slumber. His face exactly as it was fourteen years ago in the dusk light of the Subdue Palace. Sizhui’s head slowly lolled to the side and his breathing became steady. Brushing a hand over his beloved baby’s cheek, Wei Ying frowned slightly as his fingerprint passed over the deep bruising under his eyes. “ For how long have you suffered…? ” He rubbed his hand against his forehead and picked up Bichen, he felt the blade thrum in his palm as he moved to the mirror that hung right beside the sliding door. At this moment he truly looked like a Lan, it was almost laughable, he even somehow acquired the Lan Furen title by only stepping one foot into Cloud Recess. In his youth, Jiang Cheng had been so angry that his brother was moving on from him, finding love and spreading his wings that he told Wei Ying to change clans. With Bichen in his palm, feeling her spiritual cognition, he couldn’t call himself a true disciple of the Jiang clan, maybe at one point he was, but that time had long passed. 

Looking through the mirror to Sizhui’s form, counting the rise and fall of his chest, it brought a warm smile to Wei Ying’s guilt stricken face. Soon he would reveal everything to his son. He had wished everyday in the Burial Mounds to have a chance to be a Mother and a Wife and now it was his time, his prayers finally answered. In due time, Jin Ling may be forgiven or forgotten, but whatever choices Sizhui made were not for Wei Ying to influence. The boys could finally have their moment or Sizhui would see Jin Ling every Clan Meeting and pretend they didn’t know each other, the options were for them to make. 

For now, Sizhui was in no condition to make any decisions, he was weak and with a threat lingering in the air, Wei Ying was never one to stand down. He was the Yiling Patriarch for heaven's sake! So let Jin Ling try him and they’d see what a protective Mother could do to those who hurt their children. Sliding open the Jingshi door, Wei Ying shut it with the care of a crane before he unsheathed Bichen and stomped down the porch with a red glint in his eyes, black resentful energy trailing his path like a dog to his heels. The Yiling Patriarch was first a protective mother before he was the grandmaster of evil cultivation.

As he made his way to the Elegance Hall he was reminded of the true meaning of that room from his days learning at Cloud Recess. It had always been the place where guests were greeted first. Wei Ying had minisculel memories of acting the role of Lan Furen in a past life, entertaining those that arrived. But he also remembers resting on the pads of his knees, in the back multiple times, watching as either Xichen or Wangji executed a punishment. He in those moments always served as an image of submission to The Lan Clan. No matter how much he may have disagreed with all 4000 rules that bound The Lan Clan, he would always defend Lan Zhan in what he believed and stood for. 

Oh how the tables would soon turn however, the closer Wei Wuxian got to the entrance way of The Elegance Room, he couldn't help but smirk distantly at the thought of no longer kneeling in back on a plush cushion. No... this time it would be no one but Hanguang-Jun and Lan Furen enforcing and subsequently administering the punishment that so naturally followed the moment anyone broke any Lan rules. 

Jin Ling had broken the largest and most unspoken rule of them all. 

Rule number 4001: Do not harm the heir to Gusu-Lan. 

Wei Ying threw open the Elegance Hall doors, not caring that the lightweight wood of the sliding door cracked. ‘Sue me Lan Qiren….’ His eyes locked with his unruly nephew and well…. 

‘ May the gods have mercy on Jin Ling,’ 

FIN.