Chapter Text
Lan Wangji always had too much love inside him.
When he loved someone or something, he loved it fiercely and mourned for their loss most viscerally. These anecdotes are his brother’s favourite and most feared to share. Lan Xichen loved to tell his friends and their uncle, again and again, about how his baby brother had loved his childhood pet bunny so much so that he could not be convinced to sleep anywhere but near the hatch until the rodent was finally shifted into ten-year-old Lan Wangji’s room. But his voice quietens when he talks about the bunny’s death, “He would cry for days. Not eat anything. It was like my heart was splitting to make space for his spilling sorrow.” His brother’s affection for him was well known and Lan Wangji remembers the days when loss would lodge deep in his chest—even if it was something as simple as losing a pen or something irreplaceable as losing their parents, Lan Wangji grieved for everything intensely—Lan Xichen would sit with him and hold him as he cried.
The day when their parents died was the first time Lan Wangji saw his brother cry. They were eleven and seventeen respectively . Lan Xichen had become the model child by then and rarely expressed any emotion other than a pleasant smile. A stalwart for Lan Wangji’s still-young grasp on his emotions . But then their parents had passed away and they were carted off to their uncle’s home all within a day. Till the day up to the funeral, Lan Wangji had cried every night as his brother held him, Lan Xichen’s tears mixing with his own on skin and cotton.
On the day of the funeral , though, Lan Wangji refused to cry. His face remained frozen and expressionless. Uncle had commented, through his own grief-wrecked haze of thoughts, that Lan Wangji looked like an Ice Prince. It was also the day that Lan Wangji realised that he needed to be in control of his emotions. The day that eleven-year-old boy became to Lan Xichen a rock to lean back on.
It was also the day that Lan Wangji would stop crying. Or more accurately, express any emotions.
Lan Xichen mourned for his little brother’s smiles and tears more than their uncle some days. But he was nothing if not optimistic. Even beneath his stony face and stiffer body language, Lan Xichen’s brother was still a child—one who was thrust too quickly and harshly into the cruel, real world. A new language was formed between the brothers as Lan Wangji entered puberty and took on his would-be-infamous persona that Nie Huaisang would paraphrase accurately, “too beautiful to look at, too cold to touch.” Lan Xichen had come to learn every micro-expression of his brother. The way his eyes widened as he felt surprised, the small twitching of his lips at thoughtful gifts, the narrowing of his eyes at a particularly challenging guqin lesson, the way the corner of his eyes would crease when his innate capacity to feel kicked him too hard to control.
In turn, Lan Wangji was with him through the hardest days of his exams. Consoling him in his deepening, cracking voice of a sixteen-year-old when Lan Xichen battled over going far away for a better education for a Master's in culinary arts. Would be right there when Lan Xichen first fell in love at twenty-five with a co-worker in Hong Kong as Lan Wangji called him from Beijing, as a freshman in musicology, to help him devise a plan to ask her out. He broke his heart when Lan Xichen’s heart was first broken even when it was right before Lan Wangji’s graduation.
They were each other’s strengths. But Lan Xichen couldn’t help but worry that in his haste to bury and tame his larger-than-life feelings, Lan Wangji had stopped wanting things for himself.
When Lan Wangji was eighteen and started college, he had called Lan Xichen to tell him that he was gay. At that moment, Lan Xichen had been too stunned to speak. Not because he was against his brother’s sexuality but because of the sadness in his voice at the revelation.
“Why do you sound so sad?” It would have been almost refreshing to hear this many emotions that Lan Xichen hadn’t heard since they were too young and broken if it wasn’t so heart-wrenching. “There is nothing wrong with being gay, Wangji.”
“I want children when I grow up.” Lan Wangji sighed. “I can’t, now.”
“That’s—that’s not true, baobei .” He hasn’t used this nickname in…too long. Lan Xichen’s throat closes and he clears it twice before saying, “In Western countries, it is legal for you to adopt.”
“But I love my country. I want to stay,” Lan Wangji muttered before inhaling sharply. His voice was neutral, even though the undercurrents couldn’t be hidden from Lan Xichen, as he said, “It is alright.”
“Do you love someone, A-Zhan?” Lan Xichen had asked as softly as he could. He knew that universities provided new opportunities for experiencing and building identities. After all, that was the time when Lan Xichen realised that he couldn’t fall in love easily even if he had a lot of…rendezvous with casual lovers.
“…No.”
He knew a lie when he heard one but Lan Xichen didn’t push his brother. “Then…how’d you realise?”
“I kissed a…classmate. And liked it. I don’t think he remembers though .” If mobile phones could convey emotions, Lan Wangji’s would have been set on fire with the embarrassed shyness emitting from him . “He was drunk.”
“Is my baby brother attending parties now?” Lan Xichen teased, feeling his heart swell.
“Nie Huaisang was being insistent.” A barely-there pout.
Lan Xichen felt his smile widen. Perhaps the university will convince Lan Wangji that feeling so much isn’t a crime. Would help him smile more. In the meantime, he needs to convince Nie Mingjue to let his brother—and Lan Wangji’s only friend—have whatever he wants. They talk and banter in the Lan fashion, making plans to have dinner the next week when Lan Xichen reaches Beijing for some work-from-home and family bonding.
Yes, Lan Wangji is not as expressive as he used to be and Lan Xichen mourns for that. But his brother is so much more than his past. The man he is growing up to be is just as admirable and beneath all his layers, his heart beats just as fiercely as it did before. Lan Xichen can only love his brother the way he is just as Lan Wangji loves him for all his flaws.
Only, fate had funny ways of working.
On the eve of Lan Wangji’s thirtieth birthday, he was late to return to his decent-sized apartment that his teacher’s salary could furnish and maintain. It was another week before his brother came back and they would leave for Hangzhou to spend the weekend with Uncle. A distant cousin had given birth, Uncle had said, and Lan Wangji had started to mentally prepare himself to deal with the festivities for the next week at his hometown.
Just as Lan Wangji had shed his shoes and socks in the lobby, his phone started ringing. His brother’s name flashed on the screen and worry filled Lan Wangji. His brother never called after eight as they were both usually getting ready for bed. It was nearing ten at night. Heart cracking against his ribs, he hurried to pick up.
“ Ge? ”
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen breathed, his tone suggesting that whatever he was going to say wouldn’t please Lan Wangji.
“What is it, ge ?”
“Wen popo passed away.” Lan Wangji’s ears started ringing and his brother’s words dissolved, barely heard over the thrum of the blood rushing through his ears. His knees felt weak and his palms became slick. “She was in a car accident with her son and daughter-in-law. A road accident. None survived.”
Wen popo, as she is fondly known to the brothers, was the lady who supplied the vegetables to Lan Xichen’s restaurant in Hong Kong. Both Lan brothers had visited her in the countryside for business deals and her easy kindness and motherliness had dug deep into them. For someone like Lan Wangji who built affection quickly when he was allowed to, he had latched onto her. Figured that it was what a grandmother felt like. Her son and daughter-in-law were also really sweet. They adored Lan Xichen and that easily put them in Lan Wangji’s graces. Their relationship had quickly surpassed business and into the territory of family friends. But it had been a long six months since either of them met her or her family. Last he heard the couple had had a child. They were too busy with their own worlds.
Grief, strong and cresting, submerged him. Leaning against the door, Lan Wangji stared at the wooden planks. The houseplant next to the shoe rack that he had kept alive successfully despite his busy schedule. His brother was saying something and Lan Wangji blinked the bleariness in his eyes until the houseplant’s leaves stopped being a green blob and sharpened into a solid figure. Breathing through the emotions, Lan Wangji hummed, pitching it to convey a question.
Lan Xichen, taking it in stride, repeated, “The Wens have a child. He is three years old.”
“Ah, he lost his family.” That just made it worse. Lan Wangji sniffed.
“Wangji…they named you as the kid’s guardian.”
Lan Xichen came to Lan Wangji’s house two days before to help him prepare the house to now hold a toddler. They baby-proof sharp corners. Buy new clothes and toys even when the child services assure that the child has his own things with him. Neither brother was close to accepting their new status as guardian and uncle.
It wasn’t until Lan Wangji got a call from the child service—the fifth one since he got the news from his brother two days ago—while he was in a baby’s shop, trying to between a pink romper and a green dino one, informing him about the funeral that it finally hit. He physically staggers, Lan Xichen reaching to support him with a choked cry.
“Wangji!” His brother’s large hands ground him but the emotions whirl inside Lan Wangji as fear, trepidation and hope churns unpleasantly. He loves children. Has always wanted to be a father. But because he was a gay man in China, it had been an impossible dream since he was eighteen. Now, fate was handing a child over to him as if it was some elaborate joke. A child of a couple whom he respected and liked like his own family—it was overwhelming, to say the least.
“I am fine,” he breathes out, moving out of his brother’s space and shaking his head. “I just realised…”
“Yeah.” Lan Xichen smiles understandingly. “I’m here to help, you know that, right?”
A small smile is the very least he can give his brother and gratefulness fills him. “Miss Luo called. The funeral is tomorrow. We will meet the child there.”
“Yes. I’ve made arrangements to go to their place. The funeral is small. Just the closest family.”
“You didn’t tell me early.” Lan Wangji slants his brows.
“I figured you were already overwhelmed, as you are.”
“Ah. Thank you, ge. ”
“I’m always here for you, Wangji.” He smiles before pointing at the pink romper. “ Chose this but I feel like it is too small for a three-year-old.”
Blushing, Lan Wangji quickly puts it back before continuing further into the toddler section. He already knew how he would spend the rest of the evening now that child-proofing his flat was finished . They even had a rail set up around the guest bed, toys stuffed into a large box and a wardrobe waiting to be filled with baby clothes. Shelves will soon come and be filled with children’s books that Lan Wangji will probably read to the child. Weekend trips. Pre-school trips before going to work. Education plan. A trust fund he will need to open. So many things to do—
“Wangji, you’re breathing funny,” Lan Xichen’s voice cuts in gently. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just…thinking.”
“Let us go back home, okay?” Lan Xichen tugs out a tiny shirt out of his hands. “We have to prepare for the trip to the funeral.”
Lan Wangji can do little but nod. Knowing well that when he sees the funeral procession, he will truly break. But he will have Lan Wangji there. And now that he is going to be a father figure, he will have to be more mature. More emotionally-strong. Taking a deep breath, he takes out the clothes to be checked out. Hopefully, the child won’t grow up to hate him.
The funeral goes fast. Lan Wangji hides his face in his brother’s shoulder to stop his tears when the photos of Wen popo and her son and his wife over their caskets greet them. The incense makes his nose itch and Lan Wangji has to blend back and let his brother take over talking to the other relatives and friends as he tries to breathe back the terrible emotions churning inside him. The world was not better off with their loss.
He watches the groups of mourners until his ears catch the reedy cry of a child. Drawing nearer with each hiccup. Turning to his side he watches a man, about Lan Wangji’s age, walking towards him. Sadness lines his eyes, grief engraves its signs in sleepless dark circles, a fake smile as it comes and old-tear lines on his young face. A child rests on his shoulder, crying at the world and screaming unintelligible words.
“Lan Wangji?” the man asks and Lan Wangji nods unable to find words as he eyes the child and the quite charming, gorgeous young man. “Ah, found you.” A loopy grin blooms for a moment , briefly touching his eyes, before it sobers.
“Is that—” He clears his throat, his rough, unused voice barely shaping the words, “—is he the child?”
Something like amusement curled on the man’s face, smile turning a bit genuine, as he absently rocked the still bawling child. A particular shriek makes both men wince. “Ah, yes. He is Wen Yuan. They haven’t decided on a good name. I guess you have the right to name him now, huh.”
Another block of responsibility to an already huge and almost unbearable pile of new duties that was threatening to drown him. Swallowing past his emotions lodging against his throat, Lan Wangji nods. “Yes…I guess. You are…?”
“Ah, Wei Wuxian. I am a friend of Wen Zhuan’s cousin. Well, his friend by extension. I was close to Wen popo .” His smile widens, now truly genuine. A small piece of borrowed happiness amid sorrow that makes something in Lan Wangji curl. “I’ve heard about you. Guardian of our A-Yuan, hm? You must be something if the Wens put their son in your care.”
Lan Wangji looked away. Wen Zhuan will probably curse himself in the afterlife after he sees what a mess Lan Wangji is with his son. Maybe he will come and haunt Lan Wangji with his wife. Writing threatening messages on his mirror to take better care of his son. Or maybe someone will call the services on him to take away A-Yuan. What was Wen Zhuan thinking ? How did he look at Lan Wangji and think he’d be a good father to his only son? Clearly, he wasn’t thinking otherwise they wouldn’t be here in the first—
“Hey,” Wei Wuxian cut into his thoughts, a worried frown on his face. “You good?”
Wondering what his face was showing, Lan Wangji tried to arrange it into a neutral mask. He clears his throat again before saying, “Yes. I apologise.”
“Uh, it’s fine. Weird day and all that.” Wei Wuxian shrugs awkwardly and turns to the crying child still in his arms. The toddler has taken to sobbing softly. “Can you hold him for a moment? Toddlers are heavy.”
“Yes.” Arms automatically move to take the child from Wei Wuxian. The toddler freezes, confused at a new presence. Lips quirking at the blinking face, he says, “Hello, A-Yuan. I am Lan Wangji.”
“He is a toddler, you know. you don’t have to be so formal,” Wei Wuxian teases, leaning against the wall as he plays with A-Yuan’s fingers before they curl into Lan Wangji’s lapels.
“Ba?” A-Yuan babbles, tugging at his tie.
“Yes.” Guess Lan Wangji is Ba now. He feels a smile tug at him as snot trickles down the child’s chin and tears give way to curiosity. “He must miss them.”
“He does.” Wei Wuxian reaches over with a white towel to wipe away the fluids on A-Yuan’s face. The boy screws his face but doesn’t stop tracing the flowery patterns of Lan Wangji’s tie and plays with his boutonnière of lavender. “He was crying for his A-niang . Poor thing.”
“Ah.” His heart gives a twinge as he presses A-Yuan closer in a small hug. “I’ll take care of you, A-Yuan.” He looks up to catch an unreadable look passing through Wei Wuxian’s face only to be quickly replaced by a small smile.
“Can you take care of him? I’ll go find the child service person. I’m sure she can help install A-Yuan at your home.”
“Today?”
Wei Wuxian frowns. “When else?”
After a moment of hesitation, Lan Wangji nods. “I’ll wait.” Better now than ever, huh.
Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian walk away. A-Yuan babbles in his arm, sniffles and buries his head on Lan Wangji’s chest to sob softly. As he pats the child’s vulnerable spine and presses an instinctive kiss to his soft, downy hair, Lan Wangji thinks ‘I know, buddy ’ as he bites back unbidden tears.
The child service agent is Wen Zhuan’s cousin’s girlfriend. Said cousin and Wei Wuxian’s friend, Wen Qing, stares at Lan Wangji in a mixture of weariness and defeat. Grief is visible on her slumped shoulders and creased brows but she stands tall. For a five-feet-something woman, Wen Qing has an impressively large presence that is somewhat subdued by the funeral settings. But Lan Wangji knows that any other day would have left him feeling too intimidated to even look at her.
A-Yuan has started to speak to himself about flying puppies and swimming cats as he continues to play with Lan Wangji’s shirt buttons. His arms have started to grow tired of holding a three-year-old but his attempt to pass the boy to his brother had led to more waterworks than wanted. Lan Xichen gives him a sympathetic smile when their eyes meet before shifting his attention to the service agent, Luo Qingyang, who is saying something about visiting Lan Wangji’s house once again and settling A-Yuan.
Wei Wuxian, in the meantime, moves to stand behind Lan Wangji to distract A-Yuan with his fingers which proves to be more distracting than the child when they brush against Lan Wangji’s collar one too many times. He turns his head slightly to glare at the man only to have a sunny smile lobbed back at him. At least the boy had stopped trying to pop open Lan Wangji’s shirt and was giggling at Wei Wuxian’s antics.
“Will we be allowed to visit him?” Wen Qing asks when Luo Qingyang is done with her words.
“Yes, of course. You are just as much his family as we will hopefully be,” Lan Xichen says, giving Lan Wangji a meaningful look that he takes it as a prompt to speak up.
“Mn.” He hitches A-Yuan higher, making him giggle. “You are welcome anytime.”
“I can share the contact information with them,” Luo Qingyang says with a mild smile.
“It is getting rather late,” Lan Xichen murmurs, glancing at his watch before speaking up to the group, “Wangji and I need to return now if we have to make home before tomorrow afternoon. Is A-Yuan’s things nearby? I can put it in the car.”
“Ah,” Wen Qing says, her lips dipping into a frown. Lan Wangji wasn’t the only one being affected by last-minute realisations then. “Um, my brother can—A-Ning!” She calls for someone to her side and a young man breaks away from a group of older men.
Wen Ning is demure and holds none of his sister’s bold personality. He smiles and flutters shyly like a nervous puppy. Endearing him to everyone at first sight. Lan Wangji finds himself offering a tiny smile as he is introduced.
“Can you help Lan Xichen to load A-Yuan’s things?”
“Oh, sure.” Wen Ning gives big sad eyes at the boy’s back just when A-Yuan takes a break from playing to yawn. Puts his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and mutters sleepily. “He is leaving today?”
“Yes. You are welcome to visit anytime,” Lan Wangji assures and it earns him a soft smile.
“I appreciate it.” Wen Ning beckons Lan Xichen to follow him to the back of the room, leading him behind a door. They emerge with a small suitcase for clothes and another small box of toys, maybe. As the two of them go outside to deposit them into Lan Wangji’s car, Wen Qing pats A-Yuan’s drowsing back.
“We can’t come with you to say goodbye. We must finish here. But perhaps next week, Wei Wuxian and I can drop by?” Wen Qing flashes him hopeful eyes that Lan Wangji is quick to nod to. “Thank you. Please, take care of him.”
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Lan Wangji nods, holding the child tighter. “I will. Try my best, I mean.”
A wry smile and casual shrug push Wen Qing’s truer , lighter personality to the forefront. “I am choosing to trust you.”
Lan Wangji intends to keep it.