Work Text:
A Strong Hug
Lan Huan knows he is supposed to be in bed. It is past curfew, and he suppresses several yawns while he follows the path towards mother’s house, hoping no one will catch him.
It is not like he wants to break the rules but he has to look out after A-Zhan. Mother said so, during their last visit.
“Are you and A-Zhan getting along well, A-Huan?”
“Of course, Muqin. We study together every day and I always look out for A-Zhan!”
“I’m happy to hear you are taking good care of your little brother.”
He has no choice; he needs to search for A-Zhan. It is winter and cold, snowflakes are drifting through the night; the ground is scrunching under his feet.
Lan Huan likes snow, but not tonight. Not when A-Zhan is out there, without his cloak, which Lan Huan is carrying with him.
He finds A-Zhan where he thought he would – in front their mother’s house, kneeling on the ground, surrounded by snow.
He kneels down close to A-Zhan. The snowfall is getting heavier.
“A-Zhan,” he whispers. “It is cold. We have to go inside.
A-Zhan resolutely shakes his head. “I am waiting to be let in to visit mother.” When Lan Huan takes his shoulder he leans away.
“We cannot go in,” Lan Huan whispers, because if he speaks louder his voice will break. Uncle explained it to him.
Mother is not in there anymore and she will never come back.
A-Zhan does not yet fully understand the concept of death – or he pretends not to, at least. Lan Huan is never quite sure if A-Zhan does genuinely not know things or if he is just stubborn.
He is a prodigy after all, or so their tutors say. He is so smart and hard-working, always insisting to practice the qin a little more, to learn another character.
Maybe he knows what dead means and simply refuses to admit it.
“A-Zhan, please. You cannot stay outside all night. Come with me. Night has fallen. You will get punished if you stay here.
“I was a good student,” A-Zhan insists. “I learned well and I made no mistakes the entire month. I am allowed to see mother.”
Lan Huan feels his eyes sting. He does not know if he fully understand what death is (though, at this point, he begins doubting that even the adults know everything about death), but he does understand what the closed door and the dark windows mean.
It is dark inside, and empty. No fire will warm them in there.
He reaches for A-Zhan’s hand and finds it ice-cold.
“Please come in,” he pleads again, wondering if he might have to call for uncle. But he does not want A-Zhan to get punished. A-Zhan takes all punishment way too hard.
“Lan Huan? Lan Zhan? What are you doing here?”
He flinches, though A-Zhan does not move, keeping his eyes fixed on the closed door up the stairs to the house.
“Shufu!” Lan Huan calls, his breath forming clouds in the night air. “We were just-”
“Stop shouting,” uncle scolds, but it lacks conviction. “Why are you outside? Lan Zhan. Get up.”
A-Zhan pulls his hand out of Lan Huan’s grip and tightens it on his robes. “I am waiting to see mother,” he explains. “Today is the day we are allowed to visit her.”
The day is already over, Lan Huan thinks.
Uncle sighs, a strange sound. He does not usually sigh. Lan Huan feels something in his belly clench.
“You cannot go in. Get up.”
He gets to his knees with them and takes the cloak out of Lan Huan’s arm to drape it over A-Zhan’s small shoulders. Is there a shiver in his hands? But uncle’s cultivation is high, he can protect himself from the cold!
With the thick cloak, A-Zhan looks tiny.
“Why can I not go to see mother?” he asks, looking at uncle. “I made no mistakes and I learned more characters than I had to.”
“It is not your fault,” uncle assures him. “Your mother is no longer here. She cannot invite you in anymore.”
A-Zhan bites his lower lip, eyebrows twitching. He is always trying to control himself, but it seems to be hard for him now.
“Come. The furnace in your room is warm and there is tea. Get up.”
Finally, A-Zhan allows himself to get coaxed into standing up. His legs are shaking. They must hurt, no matter how well A-Zhan can kneel, much longer than Lan Huan can, actually.
Now, A-Zhan stumbles a few times on the way back, while still refusing to let Lan Huan or uncle help him.
He pretends to be unbothered, but he scoots closer to the furnace once they are inside.
“It is prohibited to eat or drink after curfew,” A-Zhan murmurs when uncle hands him a cup of tea. They are in uncle’s house now, where they are rarely allowed.
“You already broke curfew. It does not matter tonight. Drink.”
Lan Huan holds his own hands close to the heat of the coals, more for comfort than for actual warmth.
Because it is even more prohibited to waste food than to eat or drink after the evening meal, A-Zhan drinks his tea. His face is all closed up now, though Lan Huan can still see his pain, he can see his confusion over why his life has changed like this.
Grieving excessively is prohibited. Lan Huan does not fully understand what that means but he hopes silently crying in his bed, under the sheets, is not considered excessive.
Uncle’s house is spacious, but it does not feel empty despite being very clean and very orderly.
There are so many scrolls on the shelves, and the decorative pieces are elegant. Lan Huan likes being here, though he does not know why uncle has taken them with him.
Uncle looks down at the tea table. There is a still sealed bottle on it. Lan Huan cannot yet read the characters on the table.
It does not seem to be tea.
The bottle is red, the label white with a red sun on it – the symbol of the Wen Sect.
Is this a special drink from Qishan? There has been a delegation from there at Cloud Recesses today, to discuss some political matters.
Maybe they brought this as a gift?
Uncle shakes his head and opens the bottle to fill a very small cup.
Afterwards he closes the bottle again.
He empties the cup with one sip. His brows twitch.
Lan Huan figures the drink must be very bad, judging by the way uncle rests his forehead in his hand.
“Uncle? Are you well?” he asks.
Uncle raises his other hand, gesturing Lan Huan to remain silent.
A-Zhan finishes his own tea. His eyes are drooping. He must be very tired, and cold; he has pulled the cloak tighter around himself.
Hopefully he won’t get sick. Lan Huan remembers when A-Zhan had a fever six months ago. He looked so frail and helpless when he was in bed, slurring his words from exhaustion while insisting he must do his work.
He was so sick that he even cried when he could not visit mother that month.
Lan Huan yawns with his mouth pressed shut. He wants to sleep, but uncle is still not moving.
They cannot simply leave on their own, so they have no choice than to wait for uncle to move.
Finally, he does.
He raises his head and looks at A-Zhan, then at Lan Huan, brows knitted together but eyes strangely glassy.
Then he sighs heavily; it almost sounds like a sob.
“I am sorry,” he whispers, which makes even A-Zhan look up in shock.
No grown person, let alone an elder like uncle has ever apologized to them!
“Shufu?” Lan Huan asks, uncertain.
Uncle stands up and sits down again behind them, placing one hand on A-Zhan’s shoulder, the other on Lan Huan’s.
“You are good boys. You did nothing wrong.”
A-Zhan looks insecure, a little overwhelmed by uncle’s touch, but he does not squirm away.
Lan Huan’s eyes sting. Uncle’s hand is so big and heavy. He can almost feel its warmth through his clothes. It is a good kind of feeling. He does not want it to stop.
And it doesn’t. Instead, it becomes even warmer, even stronger, when uncle pulls them both closer, gently, until Lan Huan can feel uncle’s firm chest on his back.
A-Zhan breaths in, startled. When Lan Huan looks to the side he sees his little brother’s face half-buried in uncle’s outer robe.
Uncle holds them tight, without suffocating them, and Lan Huan’s confusion gives way to increasing comfort.
He blinks. A-Zhan has closed his eyes tight, lips quivering. He digs deeper into uncle’s outer robe, gripping the fabric with one hand.
After a while, uncle strengthens his grip and stands up and carries them both to the back room.
Lan Huan cannot remember ever having been in uncle’s bedroom.
“It is too cold outside to go out. You sleep here,” uncle tells them when he sits down on the bed, voice a lot softer than usual.
He stays like this for a long time, holding them.
A-Zhan falls asleep first. Lan Huan watches him a little longer, until he too cannot keep his eyes open anymore.
“Sleep,” he hears uncle say as if through a thick curtain.
Already more asleep than awake he feels being laid down on the bed, another, smaller body next to him, and someone places a blanket over them.
A hand remains on Lan Huan’s chest, warm and protective, until his senses fade into sleep for good.
30 years later
Lan Xichen is not quite sure where the liquor came from and how it ended up in uncle’s hands.
It is a small banquet for his birthday, according to the rules of Cloud Recesses, where lavish feasts are not allowed.
Whatever happened exactly – uncle is now staring down at his empty plate with glassy eyes, and Lan Xichen and Wangji are looking at each other with a mix of confusion and worry.
They both know how the other reacts to alcohol, but what about uncle?
Has he ever been drunk before?
Thankfully, aside from them, Sizhui, Jingyi and Wei Wuxian no one is around anymore, and Jingyi has fallen asleep at his table, chin resting on his hand.
Eventually, uncle gets up and straightens his robes.
“Shufu, are you feeling well?” Lan Xichen asks and gets up, followed by the others.
Sizhui gently tugs at Jingyi’s shoulders, waking him and causing him to stumble to his feet.
Uncle looks around and locks his gaze on Wei Wuxian, frowning. “You. Continue to behave!”
Wei Wuxian blinks, head tilted. He has not done anything out of line in a while. He and Wangji are often out with different groups of juniors, and sometimes he even gives classes at Cloud Recesses.
Lan Xichen grudgingly had to admit that Wei Wuxian has integrated himself well into the Lan Sect.
Uncle nods and strokes his beard. Huffing, he steps forward, beckoning everyone to come closer at the same time.
Then he reaches out to Lan Xichen, who has been sitting closest to him, and wraps his arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.
“It is a good thing you have left seclusion, Xichen,” uncle mumbles and pats his back.
Lan Xichen, frozen in place, hears Wei Wuxian suppressing a chuckle while Sizhui and Jingyi are whispering excitedly at each other.
When uncle lets go of Lan Xichen, he steps forward and, before Wangji can react, he too gets wrapped in uncle’s arms.
Now, Wei Wuxian cannot hold it in anymore, though he hides his laughter behind his sleeves.
Lan Xichen can hardly scold him for it.
Wangji blinks in astonishment and awkwardly places a hand on uncle’s elbow.
“Shufu. You are drunk.”
“Mn,” uncle grumbles and lets go.
Wei Wuxian is next and, with still shaking shoulders from laughter, reciprocates eventually, which makes uncle hug him even tighter.
“Ah, Lan-xiansheng, are you trying to squish me?”
“You be good to my nephew, understood? If he is happy, I am too.”
Lan Xichen and Wangji keep looking at each other, dumbfounded.
Yet also, there is something soft in Wangji’s eyes, something Lan Xichen feels bloom in his chest too.
When uncle lets go of Wei Wuxian and strides over to bury Sizhui and Jingyi in an embrace too, calling them the future of the sect and two prodigal disciples, making Sizhui sigh in surprise and Jingyi hugging him back with a sob.
“Xiongzhang,” Wangji mutters, stepping closer. “Do you remember that one evening, when we were young?”
Lan Xichen breathes out, frowning. “You mean when he took us into his rooms, after mother …?”
Wangji’s eyes flicker, but he nods steadily.
Lan Xichen tries to remember the events of that night. Uncle has never hugged them like this before. “Do you think he was … drunk? Back then? Like now?”
“Mn.”
A part of Lan Xichen cannot begrudge Wei Wuxian for laughing. It does seem quite amusing, thinking of uncle as a person wanting to hug everyone he cares about (in one way or another) and not considering it proper until alcohol makes him lose his inhibitions.
It also feels quite sad, considering how sincere uncle seems right now.
Will he remember tomorrow?
When Lan Xichen and Wangji woke up after that night in the past, uncle behaved like usual, commanding them to go wash and attend their lectures, never mentioning that evening again.
Eventually, Lan Xichen cannot hide a smile any longer.
Uncle seems happy.