Chapter Text
Days passed in a blur. The seasons changed, the world outside growing cold. Lan Xichen wouldn’t have noticed, save the disciple who began starting the fire in the hearth every morning. He couldn’t feel the difference. He was always cold.
Uncle visited, giving news about the sect and cultivation world. Despite his best efforts to pull Lan Xichen back into running the sect, he stayed numb to it all. Pointless. Like a good nephew, he listened to his uncle. Sat and had tea with him. Nodded and hummed in response.
When each visit was done, time melted away again. Lan Xichen stayed at the tea table, until sleep finally took him.
Wangji sat before him, telling Lan Xichen about the latest night hunt he and his husband had returned from. Strictly speaking, the only visits Xichen should have were sect related. Obstinately, Wangji continued to visit him at least once a month, behaving as though no such rule existed.
Similarly, Lan Xichen had brought A-Yuan to Wangji during his seclusion all those years ago.
Lan Xichen preferred Wangji’s visits to Uncle’s at least. In a reversal, Wangji spoke more. About night hunts and his husband. Xichen never had anything to say. The monster of jealousy always threatened to burst forth. Wangji had found happiness with his beloved, against all odds.
One day, when Lan Wangji finished explaining the night hunt, he paused. His hand twitched where it gripped his cup. His gaze held steady at the table. Lan Xichen left him to his thoughts. He would speak when he felt ready.
“Uncle will be unhappy when he visits,” Wangji eventually stated.
Lan Xichen lifted his cup to his lips. The tea had grown cold. It seemed his uncle was always unhappy these days. Unhappy with Lan Xichen.
“Wei Ying and I have adopted a child,” Wangji said, a small smile gracing his face.
Lan Xichen’s eyes widened and he set his cup down, “A child?”
Wangji nodded. “Her name is Lan Xiulan. We found her.”
“Oh,” he replied. “During the night hunt?”
Wangji nodded, “Her parents were killed. She has no other family. Wei Ying suggested we take her in.”
“How old is she?”
“Young. Around 4.”
Just like Sizhui, Lan Xichen noted. His brother and husband were the same, even after all these years. Kind and unable to abandon someone in need.
“Congratulations Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, meaning it. “You will raise her well.”
The tips of Wangji’s ears pinked slightly at the praise.
“May I bring her here?” he asked.
“Of course,” Lan Xichen answered and was surprised that he had something to look forward to.
The little girl who walked in wore a wrinkled children’s uniform and a crooked forehead ribbon. Her scraped hands fiddled with the ends of it absently. Her hair was up in what Xichen was sure started as a neat ponytail, but now hung loose and lopsided. Her eyes were wide and dark, taking in the room.
“Is that my new uncle?” she asked Wangji, pointing at Lan Xichen.
“It’s not polite to point at people,” Wangji corrected gently.
“Is that another rule?” she asked. At Wangji’s nod her lips pulled into an impressive pout. “Too many rules!”
“Hello, I’m your uncle Lan Xichen,” he greeted with a bow.
Wangji gave her a tap on her shoulder. Quickly and clumsily she put her hands together and bowed.
“My name is Xiulan. I’m 4 years old,” she said. When she straightened up she asked, “Are you fun like my Baba or boring like Father?”
Lan Xichen felt himself smile. A small, soft smile that felt fragile on his face. Wangji quickly moved to correct her, but he held up a hand.
“It’s fine,” he said and gestured to the table.
Their visit was short as Xiulan couldn’t sit still for long. As she answered Xichen’s questions, her hands wandered to the objects on the table. Yes, she liked the bunnies, but she wasn’t supposed to talk about them around Grand Uncle. Yes, her new dads were very nice, but sometimes weird. When Wangji started discussing sect matters, she let out a bored sigh and slumped against her father.
She was utterly charming and so much like Wei Wuxian she could almost be his child by blood. Lan Wangji cut their meeting short, when it became clear they were at the limits of Xiulan’s patience.
“Thank you for visiting me,” Xichen bowed. “I am happy to see you Xiulan, Wangji.”
He meant it.
Wangji and Xiulan bowed in return. As they left the room, she turned around and waved goodbye.
The next time Wangji visited, he handed over a piece of paper with a simple ink drawing.
“From Xiulan,” Wangji explained.
There were five blobby looking figures. Four were grouped together while one stood on the edge of the page. Helpfully, each figure was labeled in Wei Wuxian’s handwriting. Baba , Father, Me and Gege were clustered together, while the figure furthest was Uncle Xichen.
Lan Xichen pointed to the isolated figure, “She drew me?”
Wangji nodded. “The dots in the background are bunnies,” he added.
Xichen carefully set the picture on his desk. He would hang it up later, perhaps by his bed.
“Tell her I appreciate her gift and that she is very talented,” he instructed.
Wangji nodded.
“I’m surprised to be in a family portrait after only one meeting,” Xichen remarked.
“She asks about you,” Wangji explained. “She doesn't like that you can’t have visitors.”
“Does she want to see me again?” Xichen asked with surprise.
Wangji nodded. “She says you’re nicer than Grand Uncle.”
Warmth spread through Lan Xichen’s chest. Another smile broke through on his face.
“She can come with you, next time,” Xichen said. “I would like to see her again too.”
Very little of the rest of the visit was spent speaking of sect business. Xichen was regaled with tales of the trouble Xiulan had gotten into. She seemed to be adjusting well to her new home, despite chafing against all the new rules.
“She’s a lively girl,” Xichen noted.
“Yes,” Wangji replied, a soft smile on his face and no remorse for his daughter’s behavior.
Several weeks later, in the middle of the morning, a soft knock came from his door. Lan Xichen looked up in surprise. He wasn’t expecting visitors and it was too soon for lunch.
Slowly he stood up and smoothed out his robes before sliding open the door. No disciple or elder waited for him, but Xiulan, holding a bunny in her arms.
“Hello,” he greeted her politely.
“Hello,” she answered while struggling to keep a grip on the rabbit that wriggled against her hold.
She walked in, brushing past Xichen’s robes.
“Shut the door before Little Spot escapes!” she instructed.
Still surprised to see her, Xichen played along and slid the door closed. Xiulan loosened her grip and the rabbit jumped free and dashed away to a safe corner.
“Do your fathers know you’re here?” Xichen asked.
“Baba and Father are gone. Sizhui-gege says they have to go help people,” she said. As she spoke, she wandered through Xichen’s small abode, running her hands over whatever was in reach. “I miss them. It's boring.”
“Is that why you came to visit me?” Xichen asked.
Xiulan shrugged. “I think you’re boring like Father,” she crouched down on the floor searching for the bunny. “Baba says all the Lans are boring.”
A laugh bubbled out of him, weak but genuine. He didn’t know the last time he’d laughed.
“Gotcha!” she cried, grabbing hold of Little Spot. Holding the bunny out expectantly, she walked over to Xichen. “Here, hold Little Spot. Holding bunnies helps me feel less sad.”
Kneeling down, Xichen took the small creature in his arms.
“Thank you,” he adjusted his hold to be more comfortable for Little Spot, who seemed grateful to be out of a child’s hands.
“Father says you can’t leave,” Xiulan stated.
“That’s right. I’m in seclusion, which means I need to stay alone for a long time.”
“Why?”
“Because I need some time to think.”
“You’ve been thinking a long time,” Xiulan stated.
Xichen nodded, “I have a lot to think about.”
“Why?”
“I made a mistake,” Xichen answered, keeping his voice even.
“I make a lot of mistakes,” Xiulan replied, her face furrowed in concern. “Do I have to stay alone in my house?”
Xichen shook his head. “No, my mistake was very big and many people were hurt.”
“Did you say sorry?” Xiulan asked. “My Baba says it’s okay to make mistakes if you say sorry.”
Xichen nodded. “I’ll try that.”
“Baba says you’re sad,” Xiulan spoke up.
Xichen paused mid pet. A lump rose up in his throat. With a deep breath he centered himself again.
“Is that why you brought me Little Spot?” he asked.
Xiulan nodded.
Xichen’s eyes began to prickle. He blinked back the emotion rising in him. A little girl was pulling more feelings out of him than he’d experienced in months.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Father brings me to the bunnies when I’m sad about my old parents,” Xiulan admitted quietly.
“I’m sorry you miss your birth family,” Xichen consoled her. He’d forgotten the tragedy that brought her to them.
“It’s okay. Baba and Father are nice,” she replied. Then Xichen felt a warmth beside him. His niece pressed herself against him, head resting on his shoulder. “Hugs also make me feel better when I’m sad.”
A pang ripped through Xichen’s chest and he pulled her tight against him. The bunny wriggled away, avoiding the squish. Xichen pressed his face against her hair and breathed deeply. He’d forgotten what affectionate touch felt like.
He held Xiulan until she began to fidget. Xichen realized how long it had been since Xiulan had knocked at his door. He’d no idea how long it’d been that she’d slipped away. The teachers would be looking for her.
“We better get you back,” Xichen cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure they’re worried about you.”
Xiulan’s face scrunched up, “I don’t wanna! They’re boring!” Her lip began to tremble. “I miss my dads!”
Xichen took her hands in his. “I know you miss them, but they’ll come back soon,” Xichen assured her, giving her hands a squeeze. “Don’t you want them to come back and hear you’ve been a good girl?” he added.
Her pout screwed up more until she finally grunted, “Fine. But can Little Spot stay?”
That was a flagrant breach of the rules. Wangji’s herd of bunnies could be plausibly explained away as simply living in the meadow, belonging to no one. Lan Xichen couldn’t possibly keep one in his house and call it a wild animal.
He found he didn’t care. And Xiulan looked at him with pleading eyes.
Well. Only his uncle and Wangji would know.
“Yes, Little Spot can stay,” he agreed. “Come,” he said, standing up and offering a hand.
She ignored his hand and held out her arms to be picked up. He pulled her up and settled her on his hip. He hadn’t left this room in over a year. Anxiety bubbled in his chest, but no one would be around until midday meal, which was hours away.
Before he thought too much about it, he crossed the door’s threshold and called out to the nearest disciple.
Though gossip was forbidden, everyone had heard of Xiulan’s escapade and Lan Xichen’s brief appearance out of seclusion.
“I apologize for Xiulan’s behavior,” Wangji said with a deep bow.
Xichen waved his hand, “She wasn’t a bother. She probably worried her teachers more than she disturbed me.”
“She interrupted your seclusion.”
“She brought me a rabbit,” Xichen replied with a smile.
For a moment, Wangji’s brow furrowed. He looked to Little Spot who was seated next to Xichen, nibbling on some greens from his own meal. So far he’d been able to keep Little Spot a secret from Uncle. Most of the time, he just sat in Lan Xichen’s lap and napped, like a spoiled prince.
Xichen found having a small companion to be very beneficial to his mood. The routine of caring for Little Spot helped time pass at a normal pace. Lan Xichen felt a sense of fulfillment in knowing this little creature relied on his care.
Little Spot was also an excellent listener.
“I see,” Wangji replied, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise.
“Xiulan came by because she missed you and Young Master Wei,” Xichen explained. “I don’t mind at all that she visited. I enjoyed it.”
Wangji pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“She’s welcome to come back whenever she needs to.”
Wangji nodded in gratitude.
Lan Xichen knew the next time his brother went out on a night hunt.
A few months and several hand delivered drawings later, he heard screaming outside the Hanshi. Sword in hand, he hurried out to investigate. Down the pathway, a harried looking teacher carried a wailing child, Xiulan.
“I want my dads! I want Baba!” she cried, kicking and struggling.
Lan Xichen swiftly met them, not even noticing it was the farthest from the house since he went into seclusion.
“What happened?” he asked, holding his hands out to catch her if she knocked herself free.
With the realization her uncle was nearby, Xiulan stopped screaming but continued to sob. She twisted herself away from her teacher and leaned towards Lan Xichen. He pulled her into his arms and she instantly buried her face in his neck. Wet stickiness soaked into his collar. His hand ran up and down her back in soothing motions.
“I’m sorry Zewu-Jun,” the teacher began. “We don’t know what happened, but she won’t stop crying. Normally we’d take her to Young Master Wei or Lan Sizhui, but-”
“Hanguang-Jun and Young Master Wei are away?” He asked.
The teacher nodded, “And Lan Sizhui as well.”
“She will stay with me to calm down,” Lan Xichen stated. “I’ll have someone bring her back later.”
“Thank you Zewu-Jun,” her caretaker bowed, looking relieved.
Lan Xichen nodded to dismiss her and brought his attention back to Xiulan.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he soothed her. He hadn’t had to deal with an upset child since Wangji was little. However, his tantrums were silent with tears and snot streaming down his red, chubby face.
“Why don’t we go inside and check on Little Spot?” he suggested, hoping a distraction would calm her. “I’m sure he missed you.”
With a hiccup and a shuddering breath, Xiulan nodded. Lan Xichen carried her inside. Instinctively he bounced her gently as he walked, humming softly to soothe her.
“There now, we’re inside,” he said. Moving to a cushion, he kneeled down and adjusted his grip on her. “Let’s see where Little Spot has gone.”
Said creature sniffed the air curiously a few feet away. Usually he’d hop right over to Xichen’s lap, but he was more wary with visitors. By now, uncle had discovered Little Spot, but had done nothing but sigh. Xichen didn’t bother hiding him anymore.
“Do you want to give Little Spot a treat?” Xichen asked, remembering the melon he saved from breakfast. Wangji had warned him that too much fruit wasn’t good for rabbits, but he couldn’t help but spoil his little companion. This, of course, was completely unrelated to Little Spot growing a little softer around his middle.
With a loud sniffle, Xiulan pulled away from his chest and nodded. Tears and snot still streaked down her face, but that would have to wait.
Keeping Xiulan in his lap, he scooted closer to the plate of fruit. He picked up a small melon square and handed it to her. She grasped the whole chunk in her fist, squishing juice all over her palm. Well, they’d just have a thorough wash up later.
“Hold out your hand low, where he can reach. Be quiet and let him approach,” Lan Xichen instructed.
“I know,” she replied wetly. “Father taught me.”
He smiled and nodded. “Of course.”
The small child twisted around in his lap and held out the squashed fruit. Xichen clicked his tongue softly to catch Little Spot’s attention. Curious, but cautious, he hopped forward. Smelling the sweet treat, his ears perked straight up and he bounded over to them. As Little Spot’s snuffling nose tickled against her hand, Xiulan giggled. Seeking more snacks, the bunny climbed up their legs and squirmed his way onto Xiulan’s lap. She giggled and with exaggerated gentleness ran her hand down Little Spot’s back.
“I can pet soft. And be quiet!” she declared proudly. “Baba always scares them.”
Xichen hummed, “You’re doing a good job.” With no more trace of the meltdown, Xichen broached the subject. “Xiulan, why were you upset earlier?” he asked.
Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “I miss my dads.”
“It’s alright to miss your dads,” Xichen explained gently. “However it is not acceptable to kick and scream when you’re upset.”
“But A-Bo said my dads might get hurt, because they’re fighting ghosts,” she argued, voice cracking at the end.
Ah, Xichen realized the problem. Wrapping his arms tight around her, he pulled Xiulan to his chest. She pressed herself into his hold.
“Night hunts are dangerous, but your dads are very strong,” he assured her. “They’ll come back.”
“But my mom and first dad never came back,” she whispered.
“I’m sure they wanted to. Your dads also don’t want you to be alone anymore. They’ll do their best to come back to you.”
“Okay.”
Xichen had an idea. “If you’re ever lonely, you can come visit me, okay? Not during class, because class is important. But you can come otherwise okay?”
He felt her nod against him. “Okay, Uncle Xichen.”
“I don’t see the point of seclusion if you’re being visited by half the sect,” his uncle stated and took a sip of his tea.
Lan Xichen smiled softly. “Wangji and Xiulan hardly count as half the sect.”
Lan Qiren huffed.
“You shouldn’t indulge her. She causes enough trouble as it is thanks to Wei Wuxian,” he said.
“She misses her parents, Uncle,” Lan Xichen replied gently. “Should I have left her crying? Denied her comfort when I could give it?”
Lan Qiren pursed his lips and took an aggressive sip of tea, in the way that only he could. They drank in silence. Lan Xichen had won that disagreement.
“When are you planning on leaving seclusion?” Lan Qiren asked.
“Uncle,” Lan Xichen sighed. “I can’t leave yet. Please don’t ask me too.”
Lan Qiren huffed and drank the rest of his tea quietly. Then left without saying goodbye.
Lan Xichen stayed kneeling at the table until long after the tea went cold.
From then on Xichen made sure Xiulan’s teachers and caretakers knew she could see him, as long as it didn’t interfere with her education. Her visits came erratically. Sometimes he would have a small visitor for several days in a row and then not see her for a few weeks after. There were occasions she spent all day, while others only an hour.
Even more rarely, he was woken in the night by an apologetic disciple holding a scared Xiulan. Those nights he had a wiggly little bed companion, who inevitably slept through the night better than he did.
His room began to change. A box with blocks and other toys sat in the corner. A spare set of children’s robes were stored next to his, in case things got messy. The walls of his rooms became covered in messy paintings.
Xiulan was prolific with her art. Inspired by her limitless creativity, Lan Xichen began to paint again with her. It was a skill he’d learned like any young master in his position, but hadn’t indulged in for years. The smooth drag of the brush and careful consideration of composition soothed him. His mind became clear of anything but the paper in those moments.
Together they would sit at his table, piles of paper strewn between them as they painted. He listened to her as she rambled about her class, her dads, and the bunnies while she drew. Most of the drawings she gifted to Xichen or Sizhui, or saved for her dads to see. Sometimes, she would shyly ask if he could give a painting to Grand Uncle.
He gave his first completed piece, a portrait of Little Spot to Xiulan. He was out of practice and the piece is hardly his best work, but Xiulan was happy to receive it. The next time he saw Wangji he told him she kept it by her bed.
Sometimes, Xiulan wanted to be held. Those days were quiet and she clung to Lan Xichen. He was happy to indulge her, enjoying the warm weight of her in his arms. Those days, he felt the most at peace, mind clear and heart soothed. Xiulan came to him out of distress, but he was happy he could calm her.
Other times, she couldn’t be distracted with toys or soothed with cuddles.
“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” he murmured, rocking Xiulan as she clung to him. It was past curfew and she couldn’t stop crying softly into his arms.
“I miss my dads,” she cried softly, in a way that broke Lan Xichen’s heart.
“I know A-Lan,” he sighed, pressing his cheek to her hair. “What can I do?”
“I want Baba,” she said between hiccups. “He plays for me when I’m sad.”
His heart skipped as the possibility of playing for her crossed his mind. His xiao lay in its case, where it’d been since he entered seclusion. He’d had no desire to play, even see it.
But his niece was distraught.
“I could play for you,” he suggested softly, throat feeling tight. “My flute is different from your Baba’s, but I can play.”
Xiulan nodded against him.
“I’m going to put you down,” he said and laid her in his bed, taking the time to tuck her under the blankets.
He pulled the box from the shelf. Setting it on the table, he lifted the lid with both hands. The flute looked the same as before, waiting for him. With only a small moment of hesitation, he pulled it out.
Turning back to Xiulan, he put Liebing to his lips. Notes flowed easily, like he’d never stopped playing. As the notes washed over her, Xiulan’s tears slowed and eyes grew heavy. Softly, she fell asleep.
The last note faded away. Lan Xichen pulled Liebing away from his lips and stared at it. Then, he carefully put it away in its case and onto the self once more.
Lan Xichen climbed into bed next to his niece, but sleep eluded him.
“Thank you for indulging our daughter,” Wangji said over tea.
Xichen dismissed the thanks with a wave, “No need. I welcome her company. She’s no bother at all.”
He nodded and sipped his tea.
“Xiulan says you played for her,” Wangji said, with a slightly questioning tone.
“She told me she missed Wei Wuxian’s playing,” Xichen explained helplessly.
The corner of Wangji’s mouth lifted. “You spoil her.”
“I know very well how much you spoiled A-Yuan as a child,” Xichen replied. “And I have no doubt your husband lets her get away with anything.”
“They encourage each other,” Wangji agreed fondly.
“I’m sure Uncle hates it.”
“Mmn.”
Xiulan flopped to the floor from her previous sitting position at the table. Inheriting all her Baba’s dramatics, Xichen noted.
“I’m bored,” she complained.
Xichen set down his brush carefully before addressing her. “You don’t have to stay if you’re bored. We can find someone to take you to Sizhui. Or you could go back to the nursery.”
“But I want to be with you!” she whined.
“Alright. Should we find something else to do here? We could build with blocks,” Xichen suggested. “Or I could read to you.”
“Noooo,” she said dispondantly. Then suddenly she sat up. “I want to go outside! Come play with me!”
His body tensed. In all the months with Xiulan, he hadn’t left the Hanshi for more than a few minutes at a time. It was only ever down the path of the courtyard, to hand off Xiulan to be taken back.
Xichen let out a long sigh. “I can’t go outside with you, Xiulan.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“It would break my seclusion,” he explained patiently.
“But I visit! And so does Father and Grand Uncle,” she complained, face screwing up tight. “Why can’t you go outside and play?”
His mouth curved into a sad smile. “I can’t,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
For the first time he watched his niece’s lip wobble and eyes fill up with tears and knew that it was his fault. His chest grew tight with guilt, but he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t. So he watched helplessly as Xiulan stood up and left, proclaiming she’d go play with Sizhui instead.
“She asks why you won’t come out,” Wangji said a few days later.
Xichen sighed. “Please explain it's not because of her.”
Wangji nodded. “I do. I told her you may never come out. She cried.”
Guilt panged in his chest. Xichen knew his brother chose his words carefully.
He missed them, his family. So much of their lives passed him by as he sat in seclusion. He didn’t see the trouble his niece got up to. Or witness how upset Uncle became. How Wei Wuxian would passionately defend her, only to encourage her more behind Uncle’s back.
He missed his niece when Wangji and his husband were home. She didn’t visit as often then. There were stretches of weeks when he didn’t see her. He found himself restless and bored in ways he hadn’t felt in the first year of his seclusion. Selfish thoughts flew through his mind, wishing Wangji and Wei Wuxian would leave again so Xiulan would rely on him.
But he couldn’t leave.
Wangji let him stew in his thoughts, quietly sipping his tea in front of him. Xichen sighed and picked up his teacup, holding it close to his face.
“I’m sorry,” Xichen murmured.
“Why can’t you leave?” Wangji asked quietly.
He felt taken aback. His brother had never questioned him so directly before.
“I-” He began, only to stop.
The dark swirling feeling in his stomach kept him from leaving seclusion. He couldn’t face the world, knowing what he’d done- or rather, what he hadn’t done. He couldn’t be a world without his sworn brothers, knowing it was his fault.
He was hiding. He was hiding from feelings he wasn’t ready to face.
Wangji stared at the cup in his hand, but neither affirmed or contradicted his statement. His silence was answer enough.
“I will reconsider,” he said out loud, before he could talk himself out of it.
He stood at his door, bracing himself. It shouldn’t be hard. He’d gone as far as the gate before, but always with Xiulan in his arms. He opened the door.
The open air seemed oppressive, judgement pressing down on him. He didn’t deserve to leave, how could he ever trust himself again-
“Zewu Jun?” a voice called out to him.
Lan Xichen blinked away the haze. The disciple that stood guard at his gate, the one ready to be sent on errands on his behalf, watched him with concern.
“Do you need something Zewu Jun?”
He forced a smile, “No, just enjoying the fresh air.”
He lied.
The next attempt was more successful. Just a quick walk around, he told himself, nothing more.
Knowing he was going to step beyond his courtyard made the journey feel monumental. Once again he could feel the eyes of the nearby disciple on him.
“Everything alright Zewu Jun?”
Xichen stared at the gate as he replied, “Yes. Just getting some fresh air.”
His hand trembled as he pushed open the gate. He stepped out. Paused.
Nothing happened.
With a steadying breath, Xichen forced one foot in front of the other.
The walk around the Hanshi ended quickly. His steps were fast and nervous. When he stepped back into the yard, his heart pounded like he’d run up a mountain. But he’d done it.
The disciple smiled brightly at him at his return, a hopeful look in his eye.
The next time his niece came to visit, he met her at the base of the hill.
“Uncle Xichen!” she cried when she saw him.
She ran to him with arms outstretched. Crouching down he opened his arms to catch her. He’d let the ‘no running’ rule slide this time.
“You’re outside!” she said, bouncing in his hold. “Are you done thinking? And being sad?”
Xichen smiled. “Yes, I am.”