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Lan Sizhui had been looking forward to his return to Cloud Recesses for weeks. But he was even more excited when he came into the barn and saw Little Apple.
“Jingyi!” he called, spotting his friend inside the barn, feeding Little Apple apples. “Isn’t that Senior Wei’s donkey?” Sizhui approached Little Apple and scratched his knobby head between the ears.
“Yes,” said Jingyi. "He’s been back for a few weeks."
“Great! He’ll have stories.” One or two of them might even be true. And he loved it when Senior Wei was visiting. When Senior Wei was in Cloud Recesses, Lan Sizhui felt like he was in a family.
The thought made him feel a little guilty. Of course Hanguang Jun had been like a father, older brother, and teacher all rolled into one. He couldn’t complain about his upbringing; he was grateful to have a place and grateful to have been cared for. But in the last year, so many things had changed, and discovering Hanguang Jun had not just raised him but had saved his life had shifted his entire world. Add the return of Senior Wei, and Sizhui had started to feel like he was a different person entirely from what he had believed himself to be. Not necessarily in a bad way. It was all just...confusing.
The time he’d spent traveling with Senior Wen had both clarified and intensified those feelings. Add that to everything else they’d discovered along the way...
He shook his head, smiling at himself. Jingyi frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.” Sizhui patted Little Apple’s head one more time, then left the stable, heading for home.
#
“A-Yuan! Catch!”
If Sizhui’s reflexes hadn’t been as good as they were, the bag of eggs would have ended up on the ground in a muddle of shells and sticky yolk. As it was, he caught it one-handed with just enough give in the catch to keep them from breaking. Cultivator skills were good for things other than killing evil spirits.
The bag of eggs was followed by Wei Wuxian, dropping out of the tree in a flurry of black and red. “Did they break?”
“No.” Sizhui handed the bag back to him as proof.
“Good work,” Wei Wuxian said, and pulled Sizhui into a one-armed hug. “Welcome home.”
They continued up the hill, Jingyi entertaining Senior Wei with stories of recent night hunts while Sizhui just settled into the knowledge he was home again. That was fine with him. The ends of journeys always seemed to him to be something to be honored.
It wasn’t until Jingyi went his own way that Wei Wuxian asked, “Where’s Wen Ning?”
“I’ll tell you when we get home.” Sizhui didn’t want to explain everything twice and, more to the point, he wanted Senior Wei and Hanguang Jun to hear the story at the same time.
We Wuxian made a clucking sound. “Just like Hanguang Jun,” he chided. “’I’ll tell you later.’ ‘No need.’ ‘Hush, Wei Ying.’” He shook his head while Sizhui laughed at Wei Wuxian’s feigned hurt.
“And he would say, ‘Then why have you not learned patience?’”
“Lan Zhan asks me that every day.” He grinned to let Sizhui know he wasn’t really insulted.
“You’ll understand when I tell you,” Sizhui said, and Wei Wuxian accepted the explanation.
Hanguang Jun had set out three cups and was preparing tea when they arrived at the Jingshi. Somehow, he always knew when someone was coming, and the quiet ritual of his preparation struck Sizhui as particularly poignant this time. Maybe just because he had been gone so long.
Wei Wuxian put the eggs next to the fire and then came to sit at the low table. Sizhui waited for him to settle before he, too, took a seat. They both waited silently for Hanguang Jun to finish his ritual. It seemed rude to interrupt him. When he slid a cup across the table to Wei Wuxian, Sizhui said, “I have notes for you.” He drew a scroll out of his sleeve and passed it to Hanguang Jun. “First, though, I would like to answer Senior Wei’s question.”
“Where is Wen Ning, then?” Senior Wei asked.
“He stayed behind,” Sizhui said, “with his sister.”
#
She had been in a small town not far from Qishan, Sizhui told them, keeping herself to herself as much as she could. Usually she stayed away from town, in the mountains nearby, in a cave she’d equipped to accommodate her medical research. But there had been an issue with monsters in the town, so of course she’d come to do what she could to help. By coincidence, Wen Ning and Sizhui had also caught wind of the monsters.
“He plans to stay until we can escort them back?” Hanguang Jun asked.
“Yes. They’re both concerned about what reception she might face.” Sizhui looked at Wei Wuxian. He knew Senior Wei had had much more interaction with Wen Qing than Hanguang Jun ever had, and wondered at Senior Wei’s lack of response. But a glance explained it—he was fighting hard to hold back his emotions, his eyes red with the effort. Hanguang Jun, without looking at him, laid a hand on his knee. After a moment, Wei Wuxian let out a shaky breath and put his own hand over it.
“How did she...?”
Sizhui shook his head. “She told Senior Wen, I believe. She did not speak of this with me.”
Wei Wuxian nodded once and rubbed the back of one hand across his eyes. “It will be good to see her.” Then he rose and left the Jingshi.
Taken aback, Sizhui looked at Hanguang Jun, who only shook his head. He unrolled the scroll of notes Sizhui had given him. “Your calligraphy has improved,” he said, and began to read.
#
As far as Sizhui knew, Senior Wei didn't come back at all that night. Sizhui woke the next morning to an empty house, forced to fend for himself. He did his usual morning meditations, made tea, then went to see where everyone else had gone.
There was a place up the hill, in the shade of a copse of evergreen trees, where Hanguang Jun liked to meditate first thing in the morning. It was a bit late for his usual practice, but Sizhui went that way, anyway. It was as good a place to look as any.
Sure enough, he saw the white robes in the shadow of the trees as he headed up the slope. Hanguang Jun was not alone, though. Black attire contrasting sharply with the Lan Clan white, Wei Wuxian sat next to him, very close, his head on Hanguang Jun’s shoulder. As he came closer, Sizhui could hear them talking.
“You’ll come with us, of course,” Hanguang Jun said. “Unless you have other obligations?”
“No. I was only going back to the mountain.”
“What mountain?”
“Any mountain.”
Hanguang Jun smiled a little. “You spend so much time with the mountains. Should I call you Baoshen, like your grandmaster?”
Wei Wuxian tipped his head back to meet Hanguang Jun’s gaze. “No. You should call me Wei Ying.”
“Wei Ying,” Hanguang Jun said, his lips a hair’s breadth from Wei Wuxian’s. And then he kissed him.
Sizhui stopped walking. He stood there, flummoxed, as Hanguang Jun gently pressed his mouth to Wei Wuxian’s, exploring, enjoying. One hand moved to Wei Wuxian’s lap, then disappeared into the black folds of his robes. Wei Wuxian rolled toward him, reaching up to clasp his shoulder, his head cradled against Hanguan Jun’s chest while his body jerked.
Sizhui took a step backward, his face burning. He forced himself to look down, to the side—anywhere but directly at the two men he’d come to think of as his family. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe. And when, almost involuntarily, he looked back up, it was just in time to see them kiss again, slow and deep, and then Hanguang Jun drew Wei Wuxian’s head down into his lap.
This time Sizhui turned his back before he could see anything else. Fists clenched, he made his way back to the Jingshi. Obviously, more meditation was in order.
#
Meditation proved problematic, though, because how could he clear his mind to silence after that? Sizhui considered giving up the effort entirely, but instead he pushed the images away and let himself sit with his feelings.
He wasn’t upset or disgusted. When he managed to quiet his mind enough, he realized he wasn’t even surprised. It just...well, it wasn’t the kind of thing you really wanted to see anyone doing, much less your father figures. Then, on a deeper layer, he realized what he felt was guilt. What he had seen hadn’t been meant for him to see. In a way, he had sullied the moment, though only he knew that.
What should he do, then? Should he confess and apologize? The very thought of it made him queasy. No. He would self-reflect, and maybe tonight when everyone else was sleeping—hopefully—he would go kneel in front of the Lan Clan Rules for a few hours in penance. No one would question him even if they saw him, not even Hanguang Jun, who had taught him a long time ago that if he felt the need to impose self-correction, he was welcome to do so without unburdening himself. Sizhui had the feeling it was just because Hanguang Jun had a severe aversion to conversations of any sort, but it had come in useful from time to time.
Decision made, he settled his mind and opened his eyes just in time to hear a voice calling his name from the courtyard. It was Jingyi. He went out to meet his friend.
“Where are Senior Wei and Hanguang Jun?” Jingyi asked, as if he wasn’t interested in seeing Sizhui at all.
“Why?”
“Just wondering.” He peered around Sizhui as if he was trying to get a glimpse into the Jingshi. “Zewu Jun sent me to get you. He wants to talk to you about your excursions.”
Sizhui nodded. “I need to write a note.”
“So you do know where they are.”
“Why would I know where they are?” He didn’t want to have this conversation. He felt like Jingyi knew something he didn’t, or was fishing for something Sizhui didn’t understand.
“Because you live here?”
“They’re meditating.” Sizhui hoped that would at least get Jingyi to quit asking questions. He headed back inside to write a note. The faster he left to see Zewu Jun, the better.
Jingyi scoffed. “Right. Senior Wei has been gone for weeks and now they're just...meditating.” He paused. “Wait. You mean they’re me-di-ta-ting? Together?”
“Yes,” Sizhui said hastily, his face burning, and knew right away that it was the wrong answer. “No... I mean...” His fists clenched. He wasn’t even sure what Jingyi meant. “They’re...they’re not here.”
“Obviously. What is wrong with you, Sizhui?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” He suddenly couldn’t remember where he kept his writing brushes. His voice sounded too high, his face was burning and, strangely, he felt like he was about to cry.
“You are not.” Then, mercifully, Jingyi stopped. Not so mercifully, he frowned and considered Sizhui for a few seconds. “Lan Yuan,” he said then. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Everybody knows. How could you not know?”
“I don’t--”
“Wait. Of course. You haven’t even been here. You’ve been out all over adventuring with your Uncle Wen--”
“Senior Wen,” Sizhui corrected.
“--and you’ve missed it all.”
“Missed what?”
“Senior Wei was gone for weeks at a time, then he showed up and the two of them just--” He snapped his fingers. “--disappeared. I think it was three days before they came back. Then a week later they did it again.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
Just two hours ago, Sizhui would have said, “To hunt monsters.” But now...
Jingyi gave up on Sizhui answering him. “All I know is they came back happy.” He waggled his eyebrows—yet another gesture Sizhui didn’t understand. “Very. Happy.”
As if in response, a bright laugh rose from outside—Senior Wei. And yes, he did sound happy. Sizhui’s face went hot.
“Go,” he told Jingyi.
“Zewu Jun--”
“Just go.” Sizhui was at the limit of what he could bear. “Tell Zewu Jun I’ll be there right away.”
“Fine.” He couldn't tell if Jingyi was angry, but if he was, Sizhui would apologize later. Right now he just couldn't handle one more thing.
So, of course, from the courtyard he heard Jingyi say as he departed, “Good morning, Senior Wei. What’s that on your neck?”
“Mosquito bite,” Wei Wuxian replied, and came breezing in, smiling, Hanguang Jun, a bit more staid, not far behind.
Sizhui clenched his teeth. Don’t look at his neck. Don’t look at his neck.
He looked at his neck. There was a round, red mark just under his ear that looked nothing at all like a mosquito bite. It looked like a bite, yes, but from something with a much larger jaw. A jaw about the size of Hanguang Jun’s, in fact.
And now they were both looking at him like nothing at all was wrong, like nothing at all was different, and everything Sizhui had promised himself since he’d come back to the Jingshi scattered in a wave of unbearable guilt and embarrassment. Suddenly he was on his knees with his forehead on the floor saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me, please forgive me,” over and over while his ears burned and his head went light and his throat tried to close over even those simple words.
“A-Yuan. What’s wrong? Get up. You don’t need to do that.” This was Senior Wei’s voice, and Sizhui forced himself to peel his forehead from the floor just in time to see Hanguang Jun, frowning, give Wei Wuxian a careful shake of his head. He went to his knees next to Sizhui, a hand on his back.
“A-Yuan. Please get up. Whatever it is, we can talk about it.”
“No, no, no, I don’t want to talk about it, just give me a punishment and I’ll do it.” He still couldn’t look either of them in the face.
“If you think it’s appropriate,” Hanguang Jun said, “you may determine your own punishment.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, chiding. “How can you send him off to punish himself? He might not have done anything wrong.”
“If he doesn’t want--”
“I saw you,” Sizhui burst out, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
There was a dreadful silence. Sizhui squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to look at...well, anything.
“Saw me?” said Wei Wuxian. “Saw...us? What do you mean?”
“Meditating,” Sizhui squeaked out.
“Medi--” Senior Wei broke off. “Oh... Oh... Meditating.” He cleared his throat. Noting he didn't sound angry, Sizhui looked up in time to see Senior Wei self-consciously rubbing the mark on his neck. Hanguang Jun had taken on the thousand-yard stare he usually adopted when he was afraid he was about to get into a conversation he didn't want to have—which, to be fair, applied to almost any conversation—but there was something very twitchy about the corners of his mouth. Wei Wuxian just looked chagrined.
Then his gaze met Hanguang Jun’s, and he must have seen something there Sizhui didn’t, because his entire demeanor changed. Now he looked irritated, but not at Sizhui.
“Lan Zhan,” he said. “Did you not teach him these things?”
Hanguang Jun drew himself up with utmost dignity, staring over the top of Wei Wuxian’s head. “This he learned from the rabbits.”
“From the--” Senior Wei was indignant. “Hanguang Jun, did you really expect our son to learn from books on his wedding night like a virgin bride?”
Sizhui burst into tears and ran into the courtyard.
Dead silence followed him, and he didn’t dare look back to see if anyone was coming after him. He flung himself on a bench and stared at the ground, trying to get his emotions under control.
Our son. The words burned inside his brain along with everything else. He just couldn’t sort it all out. He put his hands over his face, trying hard to stop crying.
Finally there was a rustle behind him, and someone sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.
“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian said gently. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“Stop telling me you’re not crying you’ve got tears and snot everywhere.”
Sizhui laughed a little at that and dashed at his face with his sleeves. He was going to be a mess by the time he finally got to Zewu Jun. On the other side of the bench, Hanguang Jun took a seat and laid a hand on Sizhui’s knee.
“It’s not your fault,” Senior Wei said, drawing Sizhui a little closer. “We should have been more careful.”
Sizhui nodded. “I’m still sorry.” He sniffled. Hanguang Jun produced a handkerchief from one voluminous sleeve and handed it to him. Grateful, Sizhui wiped his face and nose, then tucked the cloth into his own sleeve. Then he looked at Senior Wei and asked, “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“'Our son.’”
Senior Wei didn’t answer right away, and Sizhui’s stomach twisted. Then he saw the tell-tale signs—Wei Wuxian’s eyes going red, water gathering along the lower lids. “Of course I did.”
“Now you’re crying,” Sizhui said.
“I’m not crying,” said Senior Wei, and Hanguang Jun handed him another handkerchief.
Sizhui took a slow breath. Not that long ago, he’d been an orphan. Now he had an uncle, an aunt he hadn’t had much time to get to know, and two fathers. It was a lot to take in, especially after the long, eventful journey with Senior Wen.
“Why was Jingyi here?” Hanguang Jun asked after giving Sizhui a few more minutes to collect himself.
“Zewu Jun wants to see me.” Shaking his head, he stood, tugging his robes back into order. “He’s going to be mad I made him wait.”
Hanguang Jun stood. “It’s all right. I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you.” He took another deep breath, then turned back around and grabbed Wei Wuxian in a tight hug. They stood that way for a long moment, then Sizhui slowly let go. He turned to Hanguang Jun, who had waited patiently, a soft near-smile on his face. He touched Sizhui’s shoulder gently, and they walked down the hill together.