Chapter Text
“A-Zhan, I-” Nie Huaisang starts, before his tiny hands come up to cover his mouth. “I- I mean Lan-gongzi.”
Lan Wangji lowers his head slightly to meet the child’s eyes. “Huaisang can call this one whatever he likes.”
“It- it feels odd. To call you A-Zhan, I mean,” Nie Huaisang fiddles with his belt ornament as his shoulders tense. “Now that you’re so… big.”
Wangji had never noticed how small Nie Huaisang had been as a child. After all, the last time Nie Huaisang was this size, this age, Wangji had been even smaller.
And yet Nie Huaisang had recognised him right away, latching onto his sleeve when Lan Xichen’s summons had brought Wangji over to the Hanshi. He had been… surprised, to say the least, when the young, nervous looking child he’d assumed was some visiting sect leader’s son had rushed over and whispered “A-Zhan” tightly. Wangji had never heard that voice filled with so much fear and apprehension. He had an arm curled around those tiny shoulders almost immediately, tucking the child into his side.
The child sitting across from him now seems like a different person entirely from the one Wangji had spent those gold-tinted childhood days with. He had been quiet ever since they’d moved to the jingshi, eyes lowered and shoulders tense. Wangji doesn’t remember Nie Huaisang being so shy. The child he remembers from visits to the Unclean Realm had been curious and bright, eagerly showing his younger guest around the stables and the gardens. He had been talkative, so much so that Wangji remembers hiding underneath a table to escape the chattering once.
And the hesitant way in which he speaks. Wangji doesn’t quite remember Huaisang at this age specifically, but this would have been around the time his father had…
Wangji shifts in his seat carefully, relaxing his shoulders a little, then moves his hands to his lap with the palms up, disguising the movement with a flick of his sleeves.
“A-Sang is just too small” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Since A-Zhan is taller now, A-Sang is the didi.”
Nie Huaisang giggles a little and looks surprised by it. “Okay. A-Zhan can be the gege now.”
“Mn,” Wangji nods with a small smile. “Like we agreed.”
“But…” Nie Huaisang’s eyes dart up to his before lowering again. “Is it really alright for me to stay with you?”
“Of course.” Wangji wouldn’t have promised to care for him otherwise.
“But- But you have a family, don’t you? Xichen-gege said that you have a son now. And a husband.” Nie Huaisang says, hands knotting into the front of his robes. “ I don’t want to be a bother…”
Wangji’s brow wrinkles slightly. “A-Sang is never a bother.”
Nie Huaisang snorts, the act sounding so foreign on a child so young. “You only ever tolerated me and I know it.” He lifts his face and gives Wangji a smile so grim and determined that his hands twitch with the need to gather him close. The only thing stopping him is his knowledge that sudden movements towards Huaisang would startle him right back into silence.
But it’s hard, because Nie Huaisang is nine years old, and he was Wangji’s best friend once, the brave boy who held his hand through long walks in dark woods and the grief of losing his mother.
“It’s okay, Lan-gongzi,” says the boy, holding his chin up high. “You can just drop me off at the guest quarters and I’ll wait for Da-ge to pick me up.”
Wangji’s heart quietly shatters in his chest and it is suddenly hard to take a breath. They had agreed not to tell Nie Huaisang about his brother’s fate, to save him from needless grief before they can get him back to his adult self, but Wangji can’t help thinking that it is somewhat more cruel to leave Nie Huaisang waiting for a man that will never come to him. The guilt he feels from the deceit nearly overwhelms him.
And yet, Wangji does his best to not react. “I would like to spend some time with A-Sang,” he says instead, picking up his cup of tea. “We have not painted together in a long time.”
Nie Huaisang blinks. “…Painting?”
Wangji reads the reluctant interest on his face and pushes his advantage. “Maybe A-Sang can teach me how he puts those details on the feathers of his birds? A-Sang’s birds are so beautiful.”
Nie Huaisang blushes brightly. “It’s- It’s not that difficult, really…”
“A-Sang has seen this one’s rabbits,” Wangji says, expression wry. “This one thinks he would benefit from some tutoring from an expert painter.”
The boy giggles quietly. “They weren’t that bad. And A-Zhan is so big now, he must’ve gotten better at it.”
Wangji shakes his head. “Worse. Not enough practice.” He stands, moving very carefully towards his desk where the brushes are. “Shall we?”
Nie Huaisang bites down on his lower lip and nods slowly. “Okay. Let’s paint.”