Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Lan Zhan was ten, her uncle brought a pleasant woman into the Cloud Recesses to teach her embroidery. Lan Zhan was not someone who throws up a fuss, but that night, she laid awake and pondered the implications of these lessons that her brother did not have to attend.

She knew the role of women in the Cloud Recesses, and in GuSu at large. Sure, up until now, she had been given the same training as her brother, but it seems that at this point, their uncle now expects her to take up the skills expected of her gender and social status. Embroidery. Painting. Music. The guqin, perhaps, or maybe the zither, though Uncle may think that a bit crass. Women were expected to be subservient, deferential, weaker. Lan Zhan frowned, staring up from her pillow. She knew she wanted to be none of those things. She could perhaps petition to learn some of the skills that are not traditionally feminine, but permitted to women in a martial household — medicine, perhaps, or a martial art form based around dance or music.

But Lan Zhan was also not someone who did things by half, through compromise or concessions. She knew only to be one thing: true to herself and what she considered to be right. She squared her shoulders. In that case, there was only one petition to make. Properly tucking in her blanket from the mess of her previous tossing and turning, she closed her eyes to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next morning, she asked for an audience with her uncle, which he granted after morning lessons.

“What is it, Zhan’er?” Despite the many rules, Uncle has always been fond of her, which was why he did not stop her from joining in the afternoon sword practices with the other students, nor the morning reading and calligraphy.

She bowed, as deeply as she was able. Then, because she shared her uncle’s fondness for rules, begins her petition with one. “Our rules dictate that one must not be deceptive,” she said. At Uncle’s nod, she continued, “Uncle, if I were to present myself as a maiden who embroiders and curtsies, it would be a deception — to how I am, and what I wish to be.”

Uncle raised an eyebrow. “And what do you wish to be, Zhan’er?’

She swallowed, and looked her Uncle in the eye, drawing herself up to speak the truth that she feels. “I wish to be a skilled fighter, on par with my brother. I wish to carry forward the Lan family traditions and make the Lan name be further known as people who help right the wrongs of the world.”

Her uncle hummed, eyes growing distant. “And if those traditions say that you should learn embroidery and medicine and guqin?"

“Our family rules are many, but they are fair and honorable.” She wanted to soften her voice so that she did not sound like she was lecturing her *Uncle* in the rules, but she had always spoken directly and never bothered with niceties, and did not know how to do so. “The rules prescribe decorum, not embroidery, kindness, not medicine, education, not guqin.” She knew these rules down to her very bones, and believed in them as deeply.

Uncle seemed taken aback, and then grew thoughtful. Taking a slow sip of his tea, he mentioned softly, “You know, our family was once lead by a very powerful woman, Lan Yi.”

Lan Zhan nodded. This was covered in her studies, though Lan Yi, after twenty years as the head of the school, disappeared suddenly. She had never heard her uncle mention her, until now.

“When people saw her, they thought the Lan family weak, to let a woman lead us. They challenged her at every turn.” Uncle put down his teacup, and looked at her with more gentleness than she’d expected. “Is that what you wish for, Zhan’er?”

Lan Zhan pondered this, then answered truthfully. “I do not know, Uncle.” She had always pictured her brother leading the Lan school after Uncle. Nor did she want to be challenged for simply being female.

“So what *do* you know?” Uncle quirked his lips.

“I wish to be treated like my brother, to continue my studies, to not be forced to pursue skills or to present myself in a certain way simply because of the expectations of my gender or my station.” Lan Zhan spoke as simply as she could. “I wish to live being truthful to myself.”

“Without artifice,” Uncle hummed, and stroked his beard. “Well, Zhan’er, your spine has always been made of steel, and you’re right — of all of our rules, we value the one against deception the most. Towards others, and towards our self.” He drummed his fingers for a moment on the table, before finally saying, “Very well, you may dress in whatever clothes you feel comfortable, and pursue lessons as you wish. I will not assign you any lessons that I would not assign your brother.” He looked at her sharply. “But you must abide by *all* of the Lan family rules, including the one about deception. If anyone asks, you must answer truthfully about who you are.”

Lan Zhan bowed deeply, grateful. “Thank you, Uncle.”

———

True to his word, Lan Zhan never had to take another embroidery lesson, and when Uncle proposed guqin lessons, it was offered to everyone in the inner family. In general, Lan Zhan did as she wanted — she practiced swordsmanship, archery, and the Lan family magic charms. She did her studies of poetry and calligraphy. She found that the guqin came to her naturally, and painting significantly less so. She dressed in men’s clothes because they were more comfortable for her tasks, and had no interest in the rouge and decorative trifles that the serving maids seem to like. The first time she started bleeding down there, she’d panicked, but the next day she visited a renowned herbalist in GuSu. He gave her a prescription that prevented any further bleeding, as long as she took the correct herbal tea every month.

The Lan family was known for its love for privacy, and the servants who stayed were trusted to be discreet. The outer disciples come and go — usually some local gentry’s son with some fantasy about martial arts. They generally leave within three years, either satisfied in what little they’ve learned, or frustrated by the strict rules and endless drills. They never bothered looking at her closely, merely “the younger lordling.” The first time one of them addressed her as “sir,” her brother had cast a startled glance her way, but had then shrugged upon seeing her indifference.

Indifference was what it was — it didn’t matter to her how she was addressed, as long as she was able to pursue her interests, abide by the family rules, and be herself. She worked hard to excel, and if being “sir” gave her proper recognition of her skills and position in the household, then that was what it was.

———

And then Uncle decided to open the Cloud Recesses to the major families for summer instruction. The Cloud Recesses have been closed to most outside visitors since her parents’ passing. It would also be the first time many of the prominent families would see her in person.

After some consideration, she decided that binding her chest was not a deception. Firstly, there was not much of a difference, merely smoothing out some lines and allowing her to fit better into the robes. It would also allow her to take her proper place in the hall, without causing an unnecessary stir. The questions and confusion would undermine her position as a host, and make everyone uncomfortable, most of all herself. The bindings enabled her to act more true to herself and her station, and thus: not a deception. She adjusted her headband in the mirror and nodded to herself: if any of the young lords and ladies ask, or even look about ready to ask, she would answer truthfully.

And then, seemingly overnight, there were far more people wandering around their quiet halls than she’d ever experienced, poking into every corner, bringing in wine and songbirds and even venturing into the streams in the back mountains.

Lan Zhan was honestly surprised that no one asked. Everyone greeted her as the second son of the Lan family. Even Wei Wuxian, with his infuriatingly perceptive yet wild and unbridled ways, flirted with her the way Meng Yao flirted with her brother — with camaraderie, not courtesy, with familiarity, not endearments, with respect, not entitlement.

It was as it should be. Lan Zhan did not lie, least of all to herself. She was 含光君, one of the Twin Jades of the Lan family. She commanded the respect of the martial world through her actions, not through false titles or pretty words. And the world saw her as such.

The problem, though, was that she had fallen for incomprehensible Wei Wuxian and had no idea what to do about it. There was nothing in the family rules, and though she knew she was not deceiving herself nor the world at large, she wondered if she was deceiving Wei Wuxian.

——

She came close to telling him, a few times. The first was when her brother decided to meddle by sending Wei Wuxian to the cold springs. But due to some combination of luck and Wei Wuxian’s foolhardiness, the topic never came up. And if Lan Yi was surprised at how quickly she picked up the Chord Assassination technique, the ancestor didn’t say anything.

When Wei Wuxian offered to carry her in the mountain trails, she’d almost relented, ground down more than she’d like to admit by the long walk, the days of worry for her family. But they were in enemy territory. Inappropriate.

And then there was the disrobing stunt, which, well, turned out to be merely a stunt. And finally, in the quiet of the cave, guarding the feverish Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan finally had time to think.

First: Wei Wuxian. Would she mind if Wei Wuxian found out that she wasn’t precisely a man? If he tried to be more protective or lecherous, she would simply silence him and ignore him in the future. If he stopped flirting with her, it simply meant that he was in love with a deception, an untruthful version of herself. In either case, she would continue to be herself, and effusive though Wei Wuxian was, she knew that he could keep confidences about things that mattered.

What she didn’t want at this juncture, was the Conversation. She hated having to explain herself, the why’s and the how’s. It’s what she loved about her family — they have rules, and they have trust, and those answer most questions before they even had to be asked. Yunmeng people were different, though, with their brashness and their family rules being only 2 measly sentences. They had to talk through every situation, figure out right and wrong and *feelings* at every juncture. Lan Zhan sighed. Very well. She’ll have the Conversation with Wei Wuxian when it was next appropriate time to do so.

The bigger issue, however, were the people who were not Wei Wuxian. She had seen Wei Wuxian with Wen Qing and Wen Ning, and knew that he did not judge by reputation or family, but rather by deeds and intent. The most he would do would be to stop flirting, or perhaps be a bit more patronizing. But there were so many other men out there who would be far worse. Wen Chao would leer, and then attempt worse. Jiang Cheng would be confused, and then make demands. Jin Zixuan would be a courteous gentleman, and seek to protect her though she was the stronger fighter.

And those were merely the people most likely to next enter the cave.

On day 5, Wei Wuxian was still unconscious, though his fever had abated. Lan Zhan had gotten thin enough from the hunger that her bindings have come loose, so, stealing a quick look at Wei Wuxian, she ducked behind one of the ubiquitous rocky outcroppings in this accursed cavern to strip down and re-bind.

Binding, while mildly uncomfortable and somewhat inconvenient during the summer instruction in the Cloud Recesses, was now extremely impractical and would become only more so as she will be trying to rebuild her family and encountering the Wens at every turn. She has been lucky thus far, relying on her natural aloofness, but all it would take was another 15 minutes in proximity with Wen Chao.

She palmed her breasts. They hadn’t ever been useful, and she didn’t foresee them ever being so, given that she wanted a life of swords and travel. And if she were to bear a child, she could always hire a nurse, much as her uncle did for her and her brother. Removing them *would* make traveling and fighting much easier in a world full of Wen Chaos and Jin Zixuans, each quick to leap to their own conclusions.

Was it deceptive, however? Was it being untrue and unfilial to the body that was given her by her parents? She would ask her uncle or her brother, but neither were here. Just her, an unconscious Wei Wuxian, and the family rules. There were the rules about decorum and filial piety, of course. But ultimately, her breasts were deceptive. They were untrue to who she was and how she wanted to be treated. She did not want men to look at her with lust or adulation. She simply wanted to be herself: Lan Zhan, without artifice.

She rebound herself, and when rescue ultimately came, made her excuses and left before she could be questioned too closely.

On the way back to GuSu, she made a quiet stop at a surgeon well known for his skill and discretion, and removed the need to use bindings ever again. Now, she was ready to meet the world beyond the Cloud Recesses as truly herself.

Chapter Text

When she found out that Wei Wuxian was captured by Wen Chao and thrown into the Burial Mounds, she simply nodded. The Lan family had rules about proper mourning. Deference must be given first to Wei Wuxian’s immediate family members, whereas she was merely an acquaintance. A compatriot, perhaps. (Wei Wuxian had called her zhiji, “one who knows my soul”, in the mountain trails when he offered to carry her, but Lan Zhan dismissed it — she had not expressed reciprocation, and Jiang Cheng was obviously not aware.) It would be inappropriate to cry or to sit vigil for a compatriot, so Lan Zhan did not.

Likewise, she did not embrace Wei Wuxian upon his return. She stood at a courteous distance and felt her heart blossom in joy and relief that Wei Wuxian was alive. The Lan family only had rules for appropriate expression of emotions, and not for the emotion itself.

The joy quickly turned to concern as she observed the many changes to Wei Wuxian. Would it be appropriate for a compatriot to ask after him? Perhaps only in the guise of battle-readiness. After some thought, Lan Zhan approached Wei Wuxian appropriately — a conversation about the direction of his latest cultivation practices — and received the expected rebuff. There was so much that Lan Zhan wanted to say to Wei Wuxian: why does his gaze grow wistful whenever he looks at Jiang Cheng? Why does he cling to his flute like a lifeline? Why do his smiles and swagger hold so much pain? But in the company of the major and minor sect leaders, nothing would be appropriate.

For the first time, Lan Zhan felt constrained by the Lan family rules.

So she went to her brother. Who else would understand and respect the rules as much as she did? And the conversation was enlightening. The minor rules were merely guides for living in a stable, unchanging world. Her world had changed when the Wen sect attacked the Cloud Recesses. It continued to change. And in a changing world, it was the foundational Lan rules that became even more important: take others as they truly are. See past the artifice of society and ritual to the core underneath.

She was, after all, Lan Wangji. It was not enough to be without artifice, she also needed to see and treat others thus.

So she bent a few of the minor rules. First, she challenged Wei Wuxian to a duel without giving proper warning, and the fight ended brutally quickly, her suspicions confirmed: he had no core of energy to speak of.. She had sustained his core of energy for five days in the caverns, had sensed it in every one of their friendly jousts, and its absence was glaring.

“Where is your sword?” She demanded. Wei Ying smiled, and Lan Zhan felt that smile echo in her heart. It was the smile of someone who was mourning the loss of a loved one, helpless and forlorn. She had seen that face in the mirror after her parents passed. (It would probably still show on her face now, were it not for the fact that three years was the proper period of mourning.) So she bent another rule and invited Wei Ying to sit on a rooftop, away from curious ears.

“Did Wen Chao command Wen Zhuliu to take your Golden Core?” She had feared as much when she heard that Wen Chao had taken him.

For once, Wei Ying was silent. Lan Zhan was beginning to understand Wei Ying’s silences — it’s where he hid everything important to him. It’s where he tucked away his grief, and the parts of him that he’s chosen to give up. Lan Zhan did not speak of her mother, either.

So she asked a different question. “You said that I was your zhiji once. Was that in jest?”

Wei Ying looked at her, and cracked a small, genuine smile, the first she’d seen on his face since his return. “Lan gege, you know I never jest.”

“Hn.” The Lan family rules were silent on proper behavior with a zhiji — the story of the zither player and the man who understood the player’s inner thoughts simply from his music did not come with prescriptions for propriety. It was assumed that if you were zhiji, you did not need rules or propriety. Perhaps it was like when Confucius achieved true self-knowledge — he could act to his own desires without violating propriety.

Lan Zhan knew the power of silence. And it appeared, under all of Wei Ying’s loquacious demeanor, he did, too.

So Lan Zhan decided to speak one of hers.

“Not Lan gege.”

Wei Ying blinked. “Fine. You are Lan Zhan, Second prince of the Lan family, 含光君, and a stubborn taciturn mule of a man who is also amazingly handsome and kind.”

She snorted. “Not a man. Only sometimes stubborn.”

Wei Ying’s eyes widened slightly, but then laughed, a happy, uncomplicated laugh. “Hah! So you agree that you’re handsome and kind!”

Lan Zhan blinked as she felt a flutter in her heart. Wei Ying had accepted this knowledge of her so easily. It was one thing to be considered a zhiji, but another to find one herself.

Wei Ying, meanwhile, had sprawled all across the roof tiles in his usual disregard for propriety, a frown on his face. “So, did you tell me that because you want me to treat you differently?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You know, maybe you want me to stop flirting, or maybe you want ribbons or hairpins…” Wei Ying must have gotten very good at reading her carefully impassive face, because he quickly backpedaled.
“No? Gotcha.”

Lan Zhan felt the fluttering turn into a radiating warmth. She had spent her life expressing only the proper emotions, and yet Wei Ying was able to see all that laid underneath. “I told you because, as my zhiji, you should know.”

“Oh!” Wei Ying’s eyes widen again, then curl into a smile. “So… you don’t mind the flirting?”

She tipped her head slightly, and it was enough. Wei Ying threw his arms around her, which only made her chuckle silently as she held still, sitting upright as proper.

After a moment, Wei Ying sighed. “I suppose you want me to share my deep dark secrets with you, huh.”

“Not a trade.” Wei Ying was entitled to his secrets. It was enough, to sit here and know each other through their silences. “I had planned on telling you next I saw you.” This made Wei Ying nuzzle her neck area, which felt surprising pleasant.

“So… what about other people? Do you want me to refer to you as him or her?” Wei Ying chuckled at his own joke, and Lan Zhan hid a small smile — the two pronouns sounded the same.

Even so, she gave the question careful consideration.

Was she still a woman, except in her own mind? In terms of actions and behavior, she did not act in a way that is particular to a woman, nor a man: she was merely herself. That said, her actions are seen as that of a man, and she preferred the way she currently interacts with the world. In terms of marriage, she lacked any of the womanly charms that a husband would expect, had no desire to learn, and had recently flattened the more womanly contours of her chest. There were, of course, aspects of life that she had not experienced that she may wish to experience as a woman. But outside of those hypothetical exceptions, was she, in terms of actions and appearance, not a man?

But Lan Zhan also knew the gulf of difference between external expressions and internal thoughts. Inside her mind, she was simply Zhan — not him, nor her. But to the world, Zhan was a man, which Zhan was fine with.

“I am fine as I am,” was what Lan Zhan finally said.

Wei Ying nodded. Releasing Lan Zhan gently, he kicked back, more relaxed and open than Lan Zhan had seen him since the summer in the Cloud Recesses. “Doesn’t this remind you of when we first met? Hanging out on the roof and talking?”

“Fighting.” Lan Zhan hid a smile.

“Yeah yeah.” Wei Ying laughed. “What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of Heaven’s Smile right now.”

By the time they left the rooftop, Lan Zhan had Wei Ying’s acknowledgement that he was in a thorny bind and willing to accept help from Zhan. Even better, Lan Zhan had found a true zhiji. Zhan’s heart felt clear as a mountain lake: with a zhiji such as Wei Wuxian, Zhan could do as their hearts desired without violating propriety.