Chapter Text
The fact that his nephew had befriended a budding demonic cultivator wasn’t as surprising as it should have been. It was disappointing, sure, but really he should have seen it coming.
Like father, like son.
Really, what had he ever done in life to deserve such a fate? He followed all (well, most) of the clan rules, and yet it seldom improved his luck.
Oh well, at least Sizhui was happy.
Well, half-way to happy that was. He’d probably be far more delighted by his new friend if not for Jin Ling’s irritable presence (he seemed very put out that Lan Xichen had talked Jiang Wanyin out of continuing to beat poor Mo Xuanyu).
Arms folded over his chest, Jin Lin sneered at his cousin. Sizhui pointedly did not look, though at his side Jingyi was glaring back.
Sizhui and Jin Ling weren’t related in any real sense. Their only - tenuous - connection was through Jin Guangyao, a link most people would have intentionally ignored.
Jin Ling was, by birth, A-Yao’s nephew. Sizhui was the nephew of A-Yao’s sworn brother, which didn’t truly make him A-Yao’s nephew, but there was no sense in trying to convince A-Yao of that.
As far as he was concerned, he had two nephews and he didn’t care that they hated each other more than half the time.
Lan Xichen could sympathize. His sworn brothers hated each other nearly half the time and it didn’t change how he felt about them.
At least his nephews had grown out of the phase where they’d been keen on plotting one another’s murders. It had been mildly amusing when they were three or four, but by the time Sizhui had turned eight it had become somewhat alarming.
“Just a few days, Mo-Gongzi,” he promised the rather frazzled looking cultivator, herding both him and the juniors away from the Jiang cultivators. “Jiang Wanyin will soon forget about you, and then you will be free to go on your way.” Or rather, Jiang Wanyin would find someone else to terrorize.
Mo Xuanyu scowled.
Lan Xichen didn’t know his sworn brother’s half brother very well. A-Yao more or less seemed to see him as a slightly less endearing Huaisang, ever in need of his assistance, constantly in his way, always spiriting him off when guests were around. Then he’d up and vanished several months ago. A-Yao had organized a search to find him, but had eventually admitted he was likely dead.
He couldn’t be certain if A-Yao would be glad to have his half-brother returned to him or not. Forcing Mo Xuanyu back to Lanling was out of the question - he was an adult, no matter how immature - but he would certainly tell A-Yao he’d seen him.
Perhaps that was for the best.
A-Yao would know he was alive, but he wouldn’t have to live with him any longer (until Mo Xuanyu inevitably needed something from his half-brother, at which point they might never get rid of him. So very much like Huaisang).
Mo Xuanyu whined and complained, but Lan Xichen managed to steer him back to Gusu (although he’d told Jin Ling he wasn’t afraid of Lianfang Zun, when Xichen politely suggested sending a letter to his brother, he’d shut up rather quickly). It wasn’t a threat. Just an idea.
Threats were against the rules after all.
As always, Lan Wangji met them at the gate, close enough that he could no doubt feel the crackle of the wards that he was unable to cross without a Jade Travel Token. “Xiongzhang.”
“Wangji.”
“A-die!” Sizhui tossed himself through the wards, landing happily in his father’s arms. He was rewarded with a hand stroking his back, a small smile pulling at his father’s lips.
Mo Xuanyu gaped. No doubt he’d heard stories about the fearsome Hanguang Jun, along with whatever the current gossip about his seclusion was. Clearly he hadn’t expected to see him so willingly embrace a child.
Jingyi made a face, pretending to be disgusted by the blatant (and rule breaking) public show of affection, but he didn’t protest when Lan Wangji gave him a nod and a pat on the shoulder. It was as close to a hug as most people would ever get from the Second Jade.
Soon Lan Xichen managed to herd the juniors off, sending them to find Mo Xuanyu (and his donkey who, admittedly, seemed to be the more popular of the pair, and he could not wait to fill A-Yao in on this development) somewhere to stay.
Lan Wangji’s eyes tracked the visitor suspiciously, though he kept himself from scowling as Mo Xuanyu stumbled into him, then scrambled to hide behind Sizhui. The boy shot his father an almost apologetic look.
Once they were out of sight, Lan Wangji wasted little time in saying, “I heard they set off a flare.”
He considered teasing his brother about gossiping, but the genuine concern in Lan Wangji’s eyes made him hold his tongue. “The arm was powerful,” Lan Xichen admitted. “But I was there, as I promised I would be.”
Lan Wangji nodded slowly.
“Even if I had not been,” he continued, “Sizhui had the situation well under control.” Well, Sixhui or Mo Xuanyu, but that wasn’t something Lan Wangji needed to worry about.
“Hm,” said his younger brother. “And the Demonic Cultivator?”
“I hesitate to even call him that,” admitted Lan Xichen. It was hard to think of A-Yao’s little brother as anything but a lost soul. As little as he’d like the late Jin Guangshan, there was no denying his children were kind, if occasionally misguided. “His Golden Core is weak, and he only seems capable of a few, simple talismans.”
“Did he truly summon the Ghost General?”
“It did seem to be Wen Qionglin,” Lan Xichen admitted hesitantly, recalling the figure that had emerged from the woods to chase the juniors, fleeing at the sound of Mo Xuanyu’s flute (clearly A-Yao had inherited his musical ear from his mother’s side of the family). “But Jin Guangshan burned him to ash.”
He sighed, catching his brother’s frown out of the corner of his eye. “I trust A-Yao, and he has never given me any reason to believe his father had freed the Ghost General.”
“Hm.”
“Besides,” he continued, “Da-ge would have found him.”
Lan Wangji only nodded.
He steered the conversation away from his sworn brother, saying, “You know how the Jiang Sect Leader is. He would have killed the boy.”
Another grunt. His brother clearly knew he’d intentionally redirected the conversation, but at least he didn’t call him out on it.
“I’m thinking of taking A-Yuan to Lanling.” It wasn’t the most natural of segues, but his brother went along with it, a slight frown on his face. “I’m going to assist with planning the cultivation conference-“
“He does not like Lanling.”
Lan Xichen was well aware. His nephew never objected to going along with him, and he certainly did like A-Yao and the gifts he showered on him, but Sizhui greatly preferred Cloud Recesses or even the Unclean Realm.