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“I don’t trust him,” Wei Wuxian says gravely, smoothing his hand through Lan Sizhui’s hair in an absentminded motion. His ghostly mother doesn’t seem to realize what he is doing but Lan Sizhui loves the gesture all the same.
His calligraphy brush pausing in the air, Lan Sizhui’s lips quirk up. “He’s your nephew, mother.”
Wei Wuxian purses his lips in complete skepticism even as the petting continues full force with vengeance. Lan Sizhui chuckles and subtly leans into his mother’s touch.
Lan Sizhui enjoys these quiet moments with his mother when it is just the two of them, talking quietly between themselves. It’s great too when his father is with them, but his father’s eyes tend to get an oddly intense look in them, and it makes Lan Sizhui feel supremely uncomfortable like he is intruding on some sort of moment between his father and Wei Wuxian, and he can’t very well ask to be excused because he has to sit there and relay every single line between the two of them. As a teenager, he doesn’t want to call it unresolved sexual tension, but it kind of is unresolved sexual tension.
And the worst part is, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to understand the looks of adoration his father sends over to him. Lan Sizhui had asked once when he was a small child and to Lan Sizhui’s supreme confusion, it seems that Wei Wuxian is under the impression that they are just very good friends who are raising a child together in the same household.
To say that Lan Sizhui had to physically sit down and take a few moments to process this was an understatement.
“Well, of course, we have to raise you in the same house!” Wei Wuxian answers him when he had asked as a kid. “I can’t very well leave you, can I? Who will tell you funny stories about all the mischief we got up to when your uncle Jiang Cheng and I were guest disciples here? Who will tell you which sellers in Caiyi town to get your pornographic materials from? Who will tell you all the best places to hide your contraband alcohol?”
“I don’t have contraband alcohol!” Lan Sizhui whines in embarrassment.
“You’re right, that’s your father,” Wei Wuxian snickers, mischievous eyes looking slyly at his son. “I can’t believe that he decided to become fun after I died. We would have gotten along so much better if I knew he was smuggling Emperor’s Smile in his own room.”
“And that doesn’t strike you as really, really weird?” Lan Sizhui presses with a raise of his eyebrows. “Father started hiding your favored drink in his room every year on the day of your death.”
To his disbelief, Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows knit together and his hand comes up to cup his chin like he’s giving the idea some serious thought. And then he says the most horrific conclusion Wei Wuxian has ever come to:
“Nope.”
The line in the sand has to be drawn somewhere and Lan Sizhui feels like he’s getting close to his. For someone considered the genius of his generation, his mother could be really, really dumb. But far be it from a filial son like Lan Sizhui to get in the way of his parents’ weird mating dance of a relationship.
So… getting back to the matter at hand. Which is Wei Wuxian’s suspicions about Jin Ling’s recent visits to Gusu Lan territory. Lan Sizhui has also noticed the sudden uptick in his visits, but he chalks it up to their deepening friendship. He knows how lonely Jin Ling is at Koi Tower. His cousins bully him, his elders whisper about his ability to lead in the future behind his back, and he has no other age mates in his own sect.
“Oh, I love Jin Ling and will protect him with my dying breath,” Wei Wuxian replies passionately and then snickers at his own morbid joke. Lan Sizhui shakes his head affectionately. “But that little brat radiates suspicious intentions.”
Lan Sizhui raises a delicate brow at his mother’s wariness at his own family members. He had grown up with Wei Wuxian cooing over the fat chubby baby Jin Ling when they were on playdates together. It confuses him that Wei Wuxian feels such animosity over Jin Ling now as a teenager. Something going on here, but he doesn’t comprehend what it is.
“Jin Ling is perfectly polite with me,” Lan Sizhui gestures at the box of sweets from Koi Tower Jin Ling had just gifted him. The boy had taken his ban from Koi Tower as a personal affront and loudly complained about the indignity of it each time they met. And almost as if in apology, he would bring Lan Sizhui a box of delicious sweets made exclusively by the skilled artisans in the Koi Tower.
To be fair, they were very tasty and he always shared some with Lan Jingyi who agreed that they were pretty awesome… until he found out who they were from and all of a sudden, Lan Jingyi didn’t want them anymore. So everyone was just being weird, or they were being unfairly mean to Jin Ling.
Wei Wuxian scoffs.
“You have been blinded by your Lan Sect teachings,” Wei Wuxian shakes his head in dismay. “Truly, old man Lan is pulling the wool over your eyes. It is up to me to teach you the ways of world. I can’t count of these repressed old fogies to teach you anything useful.”
Lan Sizhui stares at Wei Wuxian blankly. Sometimes, he doesn’t understand his mother and he wonders if it’s because Wei Wuxian is dead and there’s something lost in translation. Dead people are weird like that sometimes, going on peculiar rambling tangents that Lan Sizhui didn’t really understand. He once met a fragment of a soul, a man with bandages over his eyes, who cracked lame jokes while Lan Sizhui was attending a festival with Jin Ling within the Jin sect borders.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lan Sizhui finally replies in bewilderment. “Jin Ling is a good friend. We’ve been best friends since we were children.”
“You must have inherited your naivete from Lan Zhan because I’m certainly not this dense,” Wei Wuxian proclaims, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Lan Sizhui wants to roll his eyes at that but because he is a filial son, he restrains himself.
“You know what?” Wei Wuxian finally decides, “I think I’m just going to let Lan Zhan explain this one to you. He really should be pulling more weight in raising you as the living parent in this situation. Besides, I can’t really grab onto the tangible objects I would need for this sort of lecture.”
Lan Sizhui blinks in confusion.
“… Why would you need objects to lecture me?”
A smile spreads across his mother’s face and Lan Sizhui grows pale, cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.
For the first time in a very long time, Lan Sizhui feels true fear.
--
“I don’t trust you,” a male with a pale face and an even paler forehead ribbon jolts him awake in the middle of the night. The other disciples sleep quietly despite the presence of a man standing in their midst which means it’s a visitor for Lan Sizhui.
Lan Sizhui grumbles at being rudely interrupted from his sleep and sits up, rubbing his tired eyes unhappily. He squints at the darkness and sees the outline of a man in Gusu Lan robes. It’s no one he recognizes, and he thought that he knew all the resident ghosts on the premises.
“Do I know you?” Lan Sizhui irritably hisses into the darkness.
“You are leading my sons astray,” the ghost continues on unperturbed, condemnation lining the fine features of his face. “And you’ve bewitched my wife.”
The ghost sounds particularly miffed about that last portion though Lan Sizhui has no inkling of stealing away anyone’s children and/or alleged wives. He has no use for anyone’s children and wives. He already has his hands full with his parents… wait.
“You must be Grandfather Lan then,” replies Lan Sizhui, drawing his blankets closer to his lap. He has a suspicion that this will take a while and he has no patience for it. “I’ve heard nothing about you.”
Which was quite true. Not even the ghosts around the Cloud Recesses made any mention of Qingheng Jun. The topic seemed to be avoided by both the dead and living. Even Grandmother Lan had remained tightlipped when asked about her husband. Lan Sizhui had just chalked it up to one of those weird things that ghosts just did like telling lame jokes or pining over their not-husband/not-domestic partner.
“I am no grandfather of yours,” the man hisses in indignation. “You are a stain on my family’s name.” Lan Sizhui covers his mouth to shield a yawn. He’s exhausted and in no mood to deal with an irritated ghost being self-righteous about their blood kin.
“I was wondering when I would get a visit from you,” Lan Sizhui says before squinting in the dark. He tilts his head with a thoughtful hum. “Father and Uncle Lan Xichen look nothing like you. How fortunate that they take after Grandmother Lan.”
The ghost turns an odd shade of gray which Lan Sizhui supposes is the ghostly version of blushing.
“Did you have any messages you wanted me to pass on or…?” Lan Sizhui trails off meaningfully.
“You’re a demon with the face of a child,” the previous Lan Sect Leader says poisonously, “Sooner or later, you will bring my family to ruin. You must be annihilated before you bring further shame on this sect.”
A hot fury burning like the fires of the sun rises in Lan Sizhui as his hands ball into tight fists.
He knows he is a demon, an abomination of demonic origins that should have been smothered to death when he was a child. He knows what he is and the choices he’s had to make, and he accepts what he’s allowed himself to become to realize his goals of bringing his mother back. But he would be damned if he let some pale specter of a man tell him what he can and cannot be.
“I don’t think you understand who you are talking to,” Lan Sizhui says menacingly, eyes sparking a bright silver. “If you think you know who I am then you would know clearly that I am not to be messed with.”
The shadows along the walls begin to grow longer and the pale moonlight outside their window is covered by the incoming darkness. To Lan Sizhui’s growing ire, the specter does not tremble at his show of brute force. If anything, the proud man tilts his head higher, staring down at Lan Sizhui as if he is nothing more than a speck of dirt on his shoe.
“And if you know what you are, you would know to stay away from this family for their safety,” the previous Sect Leader replies back with acidity. “You bring nothing but misery and destruction wherever you are.”
The last strand, the very last strand of prim and proper Gusu Lan decorum snaps inside of Lan Sizhui. Lan Sizhui has had enough with this man and his high and mighty attitude, and he now finds it appropriate to lay down a Yiling Patriarch smackdown.
“We are done here,” Lan Sizhui says shortly, eyes glowing an ungodly shade of silver. The room lights up with a flash before settling back into pitch darkness. The ghost of Qingheng Jun is gone leaving only blissful silence in his wake. Finally, Lan Sizhui sighs. He lies back down into his bed and draws the covers up.
In the bed next to him, Lan Jingyi shifts in his sleep. His friend turns toward him with bleary eyes and notices he is awake.
“Mrmph… Sizhui?”
“Yeah, Jingyi?”
“Why are you up so early?”
“Nothing, Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui replies back, settling back down to catch what remaining sleep he can before they have to wake up. “I just got a visit from the previous sect leader.”
“Oh cool.” At this point, Lan Jingyi isn’t even fazed in the slightest. “What did he want?”
“Nothing much,” Lan Sizhui’s voice has grown sleepy as he drifts back into slumber. “He called me a stain on the Gusu Lan sect and then I banished him back to the shadow realm. Go back to sleep, Jingyi.”
“Oh, I see.”
A beat of silence.
Lan Jingyi bolts up from his bed.
“You banished who to the what now?!”
--
“I don’t trust you,” Jin Zixuan gives him the stink eye.
Lan Sizhui rolls his eyes and continues going through his sword stances as if the interruption had never happened. What is with the dead and their lack of trust in the living… and more specifically their lack of trust in him? Didn’t they understand that he is communing with them out of the goodness of his heart? He could just as well ignore them and leave them to deal with their own petty shit by themselves.
“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t trust me either,” Lan Sizhui puts out there like a peace offering as he slowly lifts his foot and thrusts his sword forward. The platitude does not seem to placate the pale man in even paler yellow robes covered in silvery blood.
Jin Zixuan’s eyes narrow. “You’re just so… perfect.”
Lan Sizhui pauses at that.
“… Thank you?”
“Something is wrong with you,” Jin Zixuan proclaims. Lan Sizhui’s eye twitches minutely. He wants to get offended at that. He should be offended by that but instead he is mostly amused. Being told that he is abnormal by a ghost of all beings. Really, he has sunken to a new low.
“Well, I am talking to you,” Lan Sizhui smirks, “Surely there must be something wrong with me then.”
“Being a ghost medium is not an imperfection,” the ghost crosses his arm. “But I am concerned about your tendency to land yourself and anyone around you in imminent danger.”
“It is my most defining feature,” Lan Sizhui replies cheekily. “Dare I say, it is my most charming feature. I haven’t died yet so I would take that as a point in my favor.”
“Dying should be the bare minimum, not the bar we should aspire to,” Jin Zixuan comments dryly. “I should hope that you could do a lot better than not dying.”
The man proceeds to invade his personal space, sticking his face close to Lan Sizhui’s as if trying to puzzle him out through close contact. Lan Sizhui doesn’t even flinch and slashes his sword through the apparition as he continues his practice forms without pause. Jin Zixuan does not take any offense at being walked through like air, merely following him along as he advances to the training dummies.
“It’s your impertinence for sure,” Jin Zixuan finally decides, “Definitely inherited from that Wei Wuxian. I was hoping you would take more after Hanguang Jun.”
Lan Sizhui tilts his head at the ghost. “Is there a reason why you’re interrupting my sword practice? Other than to point out all my character flaws?”
“Just observing the person my son is interested in,” Jin Zixuan replies.
“Great, go bother them,” Lan Sizhui lunges forward and twirls with his sword. When he turns back to Jin Zixuan, the man has a look of complete bafflement on his face.
“Are you serious?”
“As the grave,” Lan Sizhui replies almost petulantly. He has had enough of people doubting him and his ability to keep himself alive. He has been orchestrating his mother’s resurrection and he would like to think that it made him just a bit more qualified than the average disciple when it came to eluding death.
“… I see you’ve inherited more than your cheek from Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan remarks with a delicately raised eyebrow.
“What is with you dead people and your cryptic statements?” Lan Sizhui sighs, “You would think by now I would have this ghost medium situation handled.”
“I think it’s less of a ghost medium personality trait and more of a Wei Wuxian trait,” Jin Zixuan shakes his head in apparent pity. “Tell my son that I am praying for him.”
“Sure, why not?” Lan Sizhui mumbles under his breath. “Not like I had more important things to do, like pretending to chop cryptic ghosts in half.”
Jin Zixuan says nothing more than that and watched him go through his exercises for a little longer.
“Take care of my son, will you?” Jin Zixuan asks in a quiet tone of voice, the first time Lan Sizhui has ever heard him be so serious. “He seems to like you for reasons I cannot fathom.”
Lan Sizhui pauses and lowers his sword.
“I will,” Lan Sizhui promises with solemn yet graceful smile. “You have my word that Jin Ling will never come to harm. In fact, I would rend to pieces anyone who dared and grind their spirits to dust so they would have no chance of reincarnation.”
Far from disturbing the father of his best friend, it seems to almost gladden the man who smiles broadly at his promise.
“Thank you, Young Master Lan,” Jin Zixuan bows and fades into the ether.
Standing on a ridge overlooking the training grounds, Lan Qiren strokes his beard as he watches his most prized disciple and nods approvingly.
“Lan Sizhui is truly a good respectful disciple of the Lan Sect,” he murmurs to no one. “He will go far in life.”
--
“For the record, I trust you,” Jiang Yanli smiles in a motherly manner.
“Finally!” Lan Sizhui throws his hands up into the air. His plate goes flying in the air and lands with an audible splash into the moat surrounding the banquet room. Lan Sizhui winces and hopes that it wasn’t a priceless family heirloom. Glancing nervously at Madam Yu who frowns distastefully at her precious china being tossed around like skipping stones, it might have well been. Lan Sizhui sends her a sheepish smile and resolves to fish it out of the moat once no one, ghostly or otherwise, is looking at him.
Jiang Yanli giggles quietly at his elation and doesn’t seem to mind that he just tossed a plate into the moat. He is on one of his weekly regularly scheduled dinners at Lotus Pier with Sect Leader Jiang. Ostensibly, they’re meant to discuss Lan Sizhui’s progress in cultivation, but it almost always devolves into Lan Sizhui bringing up a (completely true and completely humiliating) story from Jiang Cheng’s past and Jiang Cheng snapping that it is, of course, a completely bold-faced lie and his sister is tarnishing his name.
“You’re a good child, Sizhui,” Jiang Yanli smiles. “I’m sure everyone loves you in their hearts even if they cannot say it out loud. I know for a fact that A-Cheng loves you as his precious nephew.”
Lan Sizhui raises a delicate brow. He highly doubts it, but Jiang Yanli has not been known to lie. She has, however, been known to sugarcoat things in the name of sparing people’s feelings.
“Uncle Jiang Cheng calls me a primordial horror raised by the incarnation of chaos and given the face of a peerless Lan Sect heir in order to lull unwitting fools into my dastardly thrall,” Lan Sizhui answers in a dubious tone of voice.
“He means that you are a cute primordial horror raised by the incarnation of chaos and given the face of a peerless Lan Sect heir in order to lull unwitting fools into your dastardly thrall,” Jiang Yanli corrects sweetly while pinching his cheeks with affection.
“But I’m still the bane of his existence,” Lan Sizhui frowns. “To him, I’m some sort of monster demon child hybrid.”
He doesn’t intend for it to sound as sad as it does. His mouth feels a little numb as he draws it into a thin line. Staring at his hands in his lap, he tells himself that it’s okay if even his own family can’t even look him in the eyes some days.
Jiang Yanli makes a wounded noise in the back of her throat and moves to pull Lan Sizhui into her arms. Lan Sizhui peeks around and seeing no one watching them, allows himself to accept her embrace. It’s been a while since he has been hugged by someone who is not his mother. “You know that’s not true.”
A tight feeling grips Lan Sizhui’s chest, refusing to let go. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this and he doesn’t like it. Jiang Yanli runs a soothing hand across his back and all of a sudden, the words come pouring out his mouth.
“I’ve been called many things by many people,” Lan Sizhui murmurs, “Hellion, demon child, creepy.”
He stops short, feeling overwhelmed by his own words. He didn’t know he had these feelings caught in his heart but it’s true. He’s seen the look that the other disciples shoot him when they think he isn’t looking. He knows what others think of him even behind their fawning smiles. He knows that he deserves all of it because he has chosen this path. He would bear through it all, if it meant he obtained his wish at the end of it.
But it is hard sometimes, to be on a different path than his peers because of his ability and the decisions he’s made to save his family. The derision he gets from the Lan Sect elders or from leaders in other sects.
“They do not understand what a gift you are,” replies Jiang Yanli in a sympathetic tone. “Your ability is not something meant to be feared. It is something precious and meant to be cherished. It’s the reason why I can talk to A-Cheng.” And then her voice slides into something more conspiratorial, “Even if you seem to enjoy endlessly torturing my poor brother.”
The statement startles a laugh out of Lan Sizhui and he sits up from her embrace. Jiang Yanli laughs along with him.
“Point is, you are my A-Xian’s child,” Jiang Yanli says softly, patting Lan Sizhui’s hand in a soothing manner. “A-Xian has always been good with children and you are no exception. Your parents have raised you well.”
“You really think so?” Lan Sizhui asks in a tiny voice.
“I know so,” she replies with extreme confidence. “My nephew is a good child.”
A tight feeling envelopes Lan Sizhui’s throat and his eyes well up. It’s the first time he’s heard that from anyone.
“Thanks, Auntie Yanli,” Lan Sizhui says tightly, swallowing thickly. He brushes the back of his sleeves against his eyes.
“Come here,” Jiang Yanli pulls him back into her embrace. The touch was barely there, a gossamer touch. Lan Sizhui still feels it anyway, and he smiles at the feeling of being held by his dead aunt.
Jiang Cheng steps into the room and sees Lan Sizhui leaning against thin air with his eyes closed in peaceful serenity, defying every known law of gravity.
He takes it in for a moment, and then immediately turns around and walks right back out.