Chapter Text
The sun rose slowly over the sprawling landscapes of Jiangnan, casting a warm glow over the endless fields of green and gold. Morning dew clung to the blades of grass, and the air carried the soft, fragrant scent of blooming flowers. Wei Wuxian urged his horse forward, the rhythmic clatter of hooves a steady companion to his thoughts.
Having left Yunmeng's familiar waters behind, he now traversed the serene beauty of Jiangnan . The territory was new but old to him, its vast expanses both inviting and daunting. His heart, though heavy with memories, felt a flicker of anticipation. Each step of the journey carried him further from the past, closer to an unknown future—a future he couldn’t help but place all his hopes and dreams in. A foreign thing for him to do.
The horse beneath him was a steady creature, its dark coat gleaming under the morning sun. Wei Wuxian patted its neck, offering a soft word of encouragement. The companionship of the horse brought a certain solace—a reminder that even in solitude, he was not entirely alone. Never alone, with this precious and miraculous pearl tied around his neck.
He huffed a laugh, gently clasping the pearl necklace in his hand and pressing a soft kiss to its surface before tucking it safely back within his robes. Within the pearl lay his most cherished treasure—his son, his beloved and only child. The reality of it all still felt surreal, holding his son so close, cradled in this delicate form. The weight of the pearl served as a constant reminder of the life it sheltered, fragile yet unbreakable. Each time his fingers brushed against it, a surge of emotion welled up within him—awe, responsibility, and a profound love he never imagined possible. The bond they shared, even in this mystical way, was unshakable, and he silently vowed to protect his son with every fiber of his being. This small, enchanted vessel carried not only his child but the very essence of his purpose, the heart of his enduring hope and determination.
He wondered what his son might think of these lands. Would he marvel at the beauty of the untouched grassy plains, as Wei Wuxian did now? Or would he find comfort in the familiarity of the Cloud Recess? These thoughts filled his mind as the sun rose higher, bathing the world in light and life.
The road stretched on, and Wei Wuxian felt a quiet determination settle in his heart. He would build a life for his son—a life of peace and happiness, free from the shadows of the past. For now, he would savor this moment, this journey through these lands, carrying both his burdens and his hopes as he rode toward an uncertain future.
As he rode further into the lands, the peaceful scenery gave way to signs of distress. A small village nestled at the base of a gentle hill came into view. From afar, it seemed serene, but as Wei Wuxian drew nearer, he noticed the tension in the air. Villagers gathered in tight clusters, their voices low and worried.
Wei Wuxian dismounted at the village entrance, his keen eyes scanning the faces of the gathered crowd. Fear and desperation were etched into their features, their bodies tense and eyes darting nervously. A young child clung to their mother’s leg, wide-eyed and silent, as if the very air had stolen their voice.
Their gaunt, frail faces stir haunting memories—days filled with endless hunger and relentless agony. Echoes of murmurs and cries from cherished voices, a young child among them, reverberate in his mind. Those days of futile labor on barren soils beneath a sky choked with smog come rushing back.
He recognizes those faces immediately. One who has known starvation can never mistake the telltale signs in others who suffer the same affliction.
The village head, an elderly man with a stooped posture and a face etched by years of hardship, stepped forward. His hands trembled as he clasped them together in a respectful bow. “Gongzi , you’ve arrived at a most desperate time. Our village… our water… it’s cursed.”
Wei Wuxian’s brow knitted in concern. “Cursed? Explain.”
The old man gestured toward the village well, his voice quivering. “It began a few weeks ago. It started as horrible wailing, cries and snarls horribly human. After, our water turned foul, blackened , and since then, sickness and famine has spread. We’ve lost too many already, and hunger only keeps weakening us further.”
Kneeling by the well, Wei Wuxian examined the dark, murky water. His fingers brushed the edge of the stone, feeling the residue of something ancient and evil. This wasn’t merely polluted water—it was a curse, a manifestation of lingering resentment.
The resentment ignited. Wails of damned souls loudly shouting for help everywhere.
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Wei Wuxian ripped his hands off the stone, shuddering as the ghosts buried deep within the well continued to screamed, flailing and coiling in curls of resentment.
“This isn’t just tainted water,” Wei Wuxian muttered, his voice low but clear. “It’s infused with deep-seated resentment. Something—or someone—has desecrated this place.”
The village head wrung his hands nervously. “What can we do, gongzi? We’re just simple folk.”
Wei Wuxian stood, his expression resolute. “I’ll need a dizi. Bring it quickly.”
The village head hesitated for a moment before barking orders to a young woman nearby. She dashed off, returning shortly with a plain bamboo flute. Wei Wuxian accepted it with a nod of thanks, inspecting its simplicity. It would do.
Positioning himself by the well, he took a deep breath and raised the dizi to his lips. The first notes drifted into the air, a haunting, otherworldly melody that seemed to seep into the very bones of those who listened. The villagers watched in awed silence, their fear momentarily forgotten as the music wrapped around them like a shroud.
The melody was a lament, a call to the lost and forgotten. Wei Wuxian played with precision, his spiritual energy flowing through the dizi, amplifying its reach. The mournful tune echoed across the village, resonating with the spirits trapped within the well.
Suddenly, the water began to churn violently. Dark shapes twisted and writhed beneath the surface, a ghastly display of unrest. The villagers gasped, some stepping back in terror. The spectral forms rose slowly, revealing the gaunt, pallid faces of the deceased. Their eyes were hollow, their expressions twisted in agony.
Wei Wuxian didn’t falter. He shifted the melody, weaving a new thread into the music—a song of peace and release. The spirits’ movements grew less frantic, their twisted features softening as the music reached them. They floated, suspended between this world and the next, awaiting their final release.
As the last note faded, the spirits dissolved into the air, their forms dissipating like morning mist. The well stilled, the water now clear but solemn. A heavy silence fell over the village, broken only by the quiet sobs of the grieving.
Wei Wuxian lowered the dizi, his gaze sweeping over the gathered villagers. “The spirits have been laid to rest, but their bodies remain. They deserve proper burials. Honor them, and the curse will be lifted.”
The village head nodded, his eyes shimmering with grateful tears. “We will heed your words and do as you say. Thank you, gongzi. You have saved us from the brink of hunger and despair.”
With that, the zhenzhang bowed deeply, and the villagers followed suit, their murmurs of gratitude filling the air like a gentle chorus.
Wei Wuxian, flustered by the overwhelming display of appreciation, waved his hands hurriedly. “Please, there’s no need to bow! I only did what any cultivator should do.”
The village head straightened, a soft smile breaking through the lines of weariness on his face. “Nonetheless, you have given us hope, something we have not felt in a long time. For that, we are eternally grateful.”
Wei Wuxian felt a warmth in his chest, though he tried to downplay his emotions. He looked around at the villagers, their faces now showing the faintest glimmers of relief and hope. It reminded him of the days when he fought for the innocent, for those who couldn’t protect themselves. His heart swelled with a mix of pride and humility.
Clearing his throat, he addressed them once more. “Take care of each other. The strength of a village lies in its unity. And remember, should trouble arise again, don’t hesitate to seek help. There will always be someone willing to lend a hand.” He glanced up at the sky, the clouds beginning to part. “After all, storms don’t last forever.”
With solemn determination, the villagers began their preparations. They retrieved the bodies from the well, handling them with care and reverence. Funerals were planned, offerings prepared, and the village collectively mourned the lives lost to the dark waters. The air was heavy with sorrow, but there was also a sense of release, a finality that allowed the village to begin healing.
As the ceremonies concluded, the village head approached Wei Wuxian, holding out a beautifully crafted dizi. Its obsidian surface gleamed in the fading sunlight, adorned with intricate carvings. A pair of wooden tassels, one a white rabbit and the other a black, dangled from its end—a symbol of balance and duality.
“This is our gift to you,” the zhengzhang said, his voice thick with emotion. “A token of our eternal gratitude.”
Wei Wuxian accepted the dizi with a deep bow, his heart warmed by their kindness. “Thank you. May your village know peace from now on.”
With that, Wei Wuxian mounted his horse, the villagers bowing deeply as he prepared to depart. Their gratitude hung in the air, a silent benediction that followed him as he nudged his horse forward. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt road echoed through the quiet village, a stark contrast to the tumult that had gripped them only hours before.
The journey ahead was long, winding through the lush and serene landscapes. Yet, for the first time in days, Wei Wuxian’s heart felt lighter. The burden of grief and resentment that had clung to the village was lifted, replaced by a sense of peace and closure. He had seen the despair in their eyes transform into hope, and that was enough to fuel his spirit. He felt… happy.
Wei Wuxian found himself smiling, his fingers brushing the obsidian dizi tucked securely by his side. The weight of it was comforting—a reminder of the lives he had touched and the darkness he had dispelled.
Then, laughter bubbled up, warm and genuine, as he thought of how Lan Wangji would lovingly react to his musings. His beloved, ever stoic, ever composed, would probably pat his head and cuddle with him. Telling him he deserved to feel happy and then feed him peeled oranges while Wei Wuxian playfully pouted at the sweet words.
Truly, together, they balanced each other—light and dark, calm and chaos. Much like his two new wooden bunnies, forever together.
And now, as he journeyed onward, ever so closer to his husband, Wei Wuxian felt the deep connection between them, a red string that transcended distance and time. Well, that had transcended distance and time.
He urged his horse into a steady but fast trot, the horizon beckoning him forward. The path infront of him was uncertain, the future unwritten, but Wei Wuxian felt ready to take on what came their way. There were still many stories to unfold, mysteries to uncover, and a life to be lived—together with the one who held his heart and their treasure.
And so, with a light heart and a determined spirit, Wei Wuxian rode on, the road ahead a canvas awaiting the brushstrokes of his journey.
As he finally– finally – reached the gates of Moling, the faint but lively hum of the town washed over him, a gentle reminder of life moving forward. The sounds of distant chatter and the occasional clatter of a cart on cobbled streets stirred a quiet sense of nostalgia in his heart.
He had many reasons for coming here. One of them was to repay his debt to Mo Xuanyu, the one who had given him a second chance when all seemed lost.
But more than that, this was the place of his rebirth.
There was something deeply symbolic about returning to the origin of his second life. Standing at the threshold of the town, he felt the weight of the past settle on his shoulders. Once more, he was a reborn man—a boy —trying to piece together a new life from the fragments of the old. The memories of pain, loss, and love lingered, interwoven with a strange, quiet hope for the future.
It felt bittersweet, to hope . A part of him longed for those he had lost, for the family and love that had been ripped away. His parents, his golden core, his family, his jiejie —all the people who had once been his world. He could almost hear their voices, feel their presence, and it hurt, even now. They had been his everything, and losing them had carved a hollow space in his heart that could never be truly filled.
Especially his son.
The pearl nestled beneath his robes warmed soothingly, a comforting presence against his chest. He gripped it, drawing strength from the life it held. Breathing deeply, he reminded himself that now was not the time to dwell on the past. His son was here, vibrant and alive. His husband was merely a couple of li away.
Old resentments had been buried in the ashes of his former self, but their shadows still lingered, whispering in the back of his mind. Yet, here he was, drawn forward by the promise of brighter things—things he had never allowed himself to hope for, let alone believe he deserved.
But his son was here, and his husband waited nearby. That was his present, his future. He breathed deeply once more, allowing the warmth of the pearl to ground him. He plastered a smile on his face, determined to embrace this new chapter.
As he crossed the threshold into Moling, Wei Wuxian allowed himself a small, bittersweet smile. This town had given him a new beginning once, and perhaps it could again. With each step, he carried the weight of his memories, but also the light of new possibilities, ready to embrace whatever the future held.
The marketplace was alive with activity, merchants calling out their wares, children darting between stalls, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with that of spices.
But that bustling scene was interrupted by a commotion. A young boy was being accused of theft, his small frame trembling but his eyes defiant. The merchant's harsh words cut through the air, drawing a crowd.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t see the boy in the thicket of the crowd, so he dismounted and approached, elbowing his way through the crowd of tittering people.
Finally, he reached the front, and his breath caught in his throat. He had been wondering how he would find Mo Xuanyu—this, he supposed, answered that question.
Mo Xuanyu stood before him, underfed, frail, and impossibly small. His wide eyes seemed even larger in the gaunt frame of his waxy, hollowed face. His threadbare clothes hung loosely, slipping off his thin shoulders, far too oversized for his diminished form.
Those trembling eyes, fixed on the ground, slowly lifted to meet Wei Wuxian's gaze. In their depths, hope, desperation, and hunger waged a silent battle, each emotion flickering across his face like a fragile flame.
In that instant, the child's features seemed to morph, and Wei Wuxian found himself gazing into the eyes of his own son.
Wei Wuxian's breath hitched as his gaze locked onto Mo Xuanyu's hollow eyes, a flicker of something achingly familiar stirring within. His chest tightened, the weight of unseen chains dragging him back to a time long gone. The boy's gaunt face shimmered before him, shifting—one moment it was Mo Xuanyu, the next, the haunting image of his son. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as the world around him seemed to blur, past and present colliding in a painful, suffocating embrace.
The merchant's bellow pierced through Wei Wuxian's haze, the sharp edge of his voice jolting him back to the present. He blinked, refocusing just in time to see flecks of spittle flying from the merchant's mouth as he berated the trembling boy with renewed fury.
Wei Wuxian's jaw tightened, a simmering anger sparking in his eyes. "What’s all this commotion? Surely a child this small doesn’t deserve such harsh words from someone of your stature?" His voice was calm, but the edge was unmistakable.
The merchant spun around, his face flushed red. "This brat tried to steal from me! Caught him red-handed, and now he’s putting on a show, crying like he’s the victim."
Wei Wuxian shifted his gaze to the boy, his expression softening. "Is that true, little one?" he asked gently.
Tears welled in the boy’s eyes as he nodded, his voice trembling. "I had no choice. My niang is sick... without the bread, she might not make it."
The merchant let out a derisive snort, folding his arms. "Don’t fall for his sob story. His muqin and he have been generously taken in by the furen of this town. He’s making it sound worse than it is."
Wei Wuxian’s hands itched to throttle the merchant, but he held back, aware of the small, watchful eyes following his every move.
Around them, the crowd whispered, their words cruel and cutting. "The mother must be a conniving huli jing ," someone murmured. "Seduced a respected man, got herself pregnant—just a jinu ," another added, their voices dripping with scorn.
Mo Xuanyu’s eyes flickered with poorly concealed fury, his lips curling in defiance as the venomous words swirled around them.
(When Wei Wuxian was Mo Xuanyu’s age, he had already mastered the art of hiding the sting of cruel words about his own mother. A bittersweet pang filled his heart—he would have to teach this little one the same painful skill, knowing the world would eagerly eat up any glimpse of vulnerability.)
Had it not been for Mo Xuanyu, then this village would have been flattened already, sparing of course the children and the innocents.
Reaching deep within his robes, he handed the merchant a silver tael. “This boy owes you nothing now.”
The merchant hesitated but eventually took the money, muttering angrily under his breath. Wei Wuxian knelt beside the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Mo Xuanyu,” the boy whispered, his voice barely audible. He shyly peeked from his horribly cut bangs.
Wei Wuxian resisted the urge to coo, knowing that children at Mo Xuanyu's age preferred to be treated with respect, not coddled. Though his heart ached to scoop him up and hold him close, he maintained a gentle composure.
“Well, Xiao-Yu,” he said softly, offering his hand to help the boy up, “you mentioned your niang is sick?”
Mo Xuanyu nodded, his eyes a mix of weariness and fragile hope. “Yes, gege . Niang’s been getting worse every day.”
He revealed a half-loaf of bread hidden beneath his tattered robes. “Mo- furen doesn’t let the servants give us much food or water. And our room... it’s dark, with no sun or fresh air.”
Ah, typical Mo-furen .
Wei Wuxian ruffled Mo Xuanyu’s hair, drawing a small, indignant huff from the boy. “Well, this one may have some mediocre knowledge of the healing arts. Perhaps I will be of help.”
The young boy stopped trying to get his hand off his head and tentative hope blossomed in his face. “Really? Gege would go this far for someone like me?”
Wei Wuxian nodded, a soft smile appearing on his face.
Encouraged, Mo Xuanyu beamed and eagerly tugged at Wei Wuxian’s sleeve, leading him hurriedly toward his home.
Mo Xuanyu led Wei Wuxian to an estate on the outskirts of town, the room where they live in filled with air thick with the scent of dust and decay. The room was small, its structure weathered by time and hardship. Inside, the dim light revealed a frail woman lying on a worn mat, her face pale and hollowed by illness. This was Mo Huying, Xuanyu’s mother. Her once-vibrant youthful beauty was now overshadowed by the weight of years and suffering, yet her eyes retained a soft, enduring warmth that spoke of unyielding love.
Wei Wuxian knelt beside her, offering a reassuring smile. “Greetings, Mo-guniang , this one is Wei Wuxian, a passing rogue cultivator,” he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. “I’m here to help.”
Mo Huying’s gaze flickered with recognition of the sincerity in his tone, and she managed a faint nod. Before she could speak, the oppressive presence of her sister and brother-in-law loomed behind them. Their faces were masks of cold indifference, their eyes narrowing in suspicion as they regarded the unexpected visitor.
Wei Wuxian rose to his feet, turning to face them. His cheerful demeanor gave way to a calm, steady resolve. “Greetings, Mo-gongzi . Mo-furen ,” he began, his voice carrying a quiet authority. “This humble one is Wei Wuxian. I happened to be passing through when I encountered young Mo Xuanyu and couldn’t overlook the hardship he described his mother to be in.”
Mo-furen crossed her arms, her expression skeptical and angered. “And why should we believe you? What do you want with our family? Have you no shame, barging in on this peaceful family?! You shame your family!”
Wei Wuxian’s gaze didn’t waver, hatred kept tightly on a leash. “I seek nothing but to help. I’ve seen the pain in Mo Xuanyu’s eyes and the struggles he faced. I’m here to offer them my knowledge of the healing arts.”
Her brother-in-law scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “Knowledge of the healing arts? And who are you to offer such things? Such a young boy yourself could barely afford life's necessities, least of all become a qualified daifu! Moreover, this is a family matter that you have no part to nose in on. Scram, I say! Scram!”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes hardened, his tone turning seething as Mo-gongzi kept yelling . “A family matter? Then why does it seem you’ve done nothing but neglect and burden both of them? The merchants yell at the boy and the villagers say such venom filled words behind their fanned hands towards Mo-guniang .”
Looking back at the cowering Mo Xuanyu, and his frail mother, he made an impulsive choice. “From this moment on, Mo-guniang and her son are under my protection. They will no longer be subjected to your indifference.”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing heavily on the air. Mo-furen scoffed, rearing up to deny such audacious claims before Wei Wuxian let a little of the Yilling Laozu out.
Both of them paled, staggering a little before calling out. "Demon?!"
Mo-furen trembled, holding the sleeve of her husband tightly. "Of course a demon like yourself would want them! Take them and get out! Get out!!"
She kept screaming for them to leave, each scream shriller than the other.
Without waiting for further argument, Wei Wuxian gathered Mo Huying’s and her son's few belongings, his hands moving with haste. Quickly he ushered them out, slamming the door behind them.
Gently, he helped Mo Huying onto his horse, her frail form leaning against him for support. Mo Xuanyu climbed up in front, his small hands clutching the reins with newfound resolve. As they left the oppressive confines of the house, Wei Wuxian cast one final glance back at the family, his expression a mixture of disgust and revulsion .
“I hope you know nothing but unrest,” he whispered softly, eyes turning a soft red before turning away and guiding the horse forward.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, Wei Wuxian stood outside the modest hut where Mo Huying and Mo Xuanyu had found a fragile refuge. The oppressive air of their earlier confrontation with Mo Huying's family had lifted, replaced by a tentative peace. Mo Xuanyu and his mother emerged, their faces etched with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
Wei Wuxian offered them a gentle smile. “Shall we take a walk?” he suggested, gesturing toward the path that meandered toward the outskirts of Moling. They set off together, the evening air cool and refreshing.
As they walked, Wei Wuxian's voice broke the quiet, soft but resolute. “I may be a rogue cultivator now, but once, I belonged to the Yunmeng Jiang clan.”
Mo Huying glanced at him, her eyes widening slightly. “Yunmeng Jiang? That’s a renowned clan.”
Wei Wuxian nodded, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his features. “It is. Since leaving, this Wei Ying has been wandering. My current path leads to GusuLan .”
“GusuLan ?” Mo Huying echoed, her brow knitting in curiosity. “Why there? This one heard that their winters are very harsh, and cold on people who are used to humid and hot climates”
Wei Wuxian’s expression softened, his gaze distant as he thought of the man waiting for him. “Well, that is true. However, I am heading their too find my zhiji ,” he replied simply.
Mo Huying’s curiosity deepened, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Your zhiji? Would you mind indulging this lowly one on sharing what kind of character could capture gongzi's attentions?”
A fond smile curled Wei Wuxian’s lips as he began to describe his beloved. “My zhiji is of a gentle nature. A lover of music and the arts. He might appear untouchable at first, but don’t let him fool you. Anything cute and tiny holds his heart.”
To emphasize his point, he playfully tweaked Mo Xuanyu’s nose, earning an indignant huff from the boy who quickly ducked behind his mother’s sleeves, shielding himself from Wei Wuxian’s teasing hands. Mo Huying chuckled softly, her amusement clear in her eyes.
Wei Wuxian’s fingers grazed the tassel of his dizi, his gaze softening. “From the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, he is my haven. My heart rests in his hands, unable to beat without him. My eyes seek no other, for he embodies all beauty. His voice is the sweetest melody, echoing in my ears. I couldn’t bear the distance any longer, so I set out to find him.”
The sincerity in his words was palpable, each sentence steeped in the deep love and longing he felt for Lan Wangji. Mo Huying listened, her heart aching at the tenderness in Wei Wuxian’s voice.
ntinued their journey in comfortable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each step. As they neared the border of Moling, a voice, achingly familiar, cut through the air.
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian froze mid-step, his heart pounding in his chest. Mo Huying and Mo Xuanyu exchanged puzzled glances, but Wei Wuxian hardly noticed. The voice called out again, “Wei Ying.”
Slowly, hesitantly, Wei Wuxian turned around. Standing there, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun, was Lan Wangji. His beloved, his zhiji .
Time seemed to stand still as Wei Wuxian’s eyes met Lan Wangji’s. The emotions he had held back for so long surged forth, and without a second thought, he ran. He ran toward the man who had been his anchor, his safe harbor in a world of chaos.
When he reached Lan Wangji, he jumped into his arms, the weight of their separation dissolving in an instant. His eyes filled with tears, the burning sensation in his throat a testament to the overwhelming emotions flooding his heart. The pearl warmed happily, sending out happy shivers and pulses.
“Lan Zhan,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “You’re here… in my arms.”
Lan Wangji held him close, his hand gently rubbing Wei Wuxian’s back in soothing circles. He leaned back slightly to wipe away Wei Wuxian’s tears, his touch tender and reassuring. “Wei Ying, do not cry,” he whispered, his voice a balm to Wei Wuxian’s soul.
A hiccupped laugh escaped Wei Wuxian, even as more tears fell. “I can’t, Lan Zhan. I really can’t. You’re here, and we’re together, and I’m in this old body of mine and—”
Lan Wangji silenced him with a tighter embrace, his own emotions shining through in the slight tremble of his hands. Wei Wuxian clung to him, the dam of his composure finally breaking. He cried harder, the emotional strain of the past few days catching up to him.
Lan Wangji pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, the warmth of it sinking deep into Wei Wuxian’s marrow. “My zhiji is of a cheerful nature,” Lan Wangji murmured, his voice filled with quiet affection. “A master of the six arts. He masks his pains behind his smile.”
Wei Wuxian sobbed harder, each word Lan Wangji spoke piercing his heart with both love and pain. He buried his face in Lan Wangji’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of their connection.
Lan Wangji withdrew slightly, pulling back to look at him with his burning golden eyes. “My beloved lights up the room. My beloved makes my heart race with his smile. My beloved is a vision that rivals the gods. My beloved’s voice is like a windchime in the breeze, soft and melodious.”
Behind them, Mo Huying averted her eyes out of respect, placing a hand over her son’s eyes. Mo Xuanyu huffed, eager to witness the heartfelt reunion, but stopped when he saw the weary expression on his mother’s face. Her loneliness and longing mirrored the love between the two men before them.
It was a long while before Wei Wuxian’s tears subsided, his sobs turning into quiet sniffles. Lan Wangji continued to rub his back, offering gentle reassurances that everything would be all right.
When they finally parted, their hands remained linked, an unspoken promise between them. Wei Wuxian glanced back at Mo Huying and Mo Xuanyu, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks at the realization that they had witnessed his emotional outpouring.
He cleared his throat, offering an apologetic smile. “Please excuse this humble one, Mo-guniang. This one had missed his beloved very dearly.”
Mo Huying stepped forward, a soft, wistful smile on her lips. She gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, the motherly gesture bringing fresh tears to his eyes. “No need to apologize, Wei-gongzi. I doubted you when you spoke of finding your zhiji at such a young age, but seeing this… I was a fool to doubt such devotion.”
Her gaze turned to her son, her hand resting lovingly on his head. “This guniang can only hope for such a fate in the future, for herself and her son.”
Wei Wuxian swallowed the lump in his throat and mustered a bright smile. “Mo-guniang , please meet the second young master of GusuLan, Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji. Lan-er-gongzi . My zhiji.”
Mo Huying bowed respectfully. “Well met, Lan-er-gongzi .”
Lan Wangji bowed deeply in return, his voice calm and respectful. “Mn, well met, Mo-guniang .”
Mo Huying’s cheeks flushed slightly, a flustered smile on her lips at the formal acknowledgment.
"And this little one," he motions toward Mo Xuanyu, who hid behind his mothers skirt, "is Mo Xuanyu, Mo-guniang's son."
Here, a tiny but soft smile spread on Lan Wangji's face, like frost melting into spring. He peeked from the corner of his eye Mo Huying flushing a deep red, and couldn't help but sympathize. After being married for so long, he still flushes at merely the hint of his beloveds smile.
"Well met, little one," Lan Wangji says, bowing his head.
Mo Xuanyu seems to have reverted to his baser instincts, staring rosey-eyed and wide mouthed. His mother nudges him forward, biting back a laugh to avoid mortifying her boy.
Snapping out of the trance he was in, Mo Xuanyu flushes an even deeper red and stutters out. "Well met, Lan-er-gongzi!!
saintly, his husband merely nods in acknowledgement, showing no outward reaction. However, Wei Wuxian spies amusement and laughter behind calm eyes.
Afterward, as the introductions concluded, Wei Wuxian revealed his intentions to journey to GusuLan , a place he plans on –once more– settling down in. Here, he looks at his husband, trying to see if he will react outwardly or not.
Lan Wangji seemed to listen intently, his serene expression unwavering, yet his eyes held a quiet warmth towards him.
Without a moment's hesitation, Lan Wangji gave a small, resolute nod, answering his unspoken question. The warm glow in his eyes left no doubt—he was ready to support Wei Wuxian in any way, anywhere they might call home to.
(Unspoken words linger in their eyes, a shared understanding between them. They must make haste to follow Ying-niangniangs conditions once they settle down in Cloud Recess. They would rather not test a heavenly beings patience.)
Wei Wuxian knows that if he were to say even a single word about not making the Cloud Recess his home in this life, Lan Wangji would follow him without question.
He wouldn’t protest, nor would he try to aim for a compromise. He’ll merely nod his head calmly and follow Wei Wuxian to the ends of the earth. Wei Wuxian couldn’t do that to him, depriving him of his only living family. Even if Wei Wuxian has less than favorable feelings towards said family, he’ll swallow them and smile for his husband. He’d do anything to ensure his happiness and well-being.
Mo Huying, her face calculating, placed a gentle but frail hand on Wei Wuxian’s arm. "Wei-gongzi , we are not without our own burdens, but if you are willing to have us, we will accompany you. We are in debt to you for helping us escape that wretched existence."
Wei Wuxian blinked, surprised by her words, but the sincerity in her gaze was unmistakable. He turned to Mo Xuanyu, whose eyes were wide with hope, clearly eager to leave the shadows of his troubled past behind.
"Would Xiao -Yu be willing to join us on this journey?" Wei Wuxian asked, his voice kind but firm.
Mo Xuanyu, looking between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, nodded eagerly. “Mn, gege! I want to go with you, and eat lotus seeds and play with kids my age!!”
A quiet smile tugged at Wei Wuxian’s lips. He didn’t need to speak further to understand the weight of what they were offering.
“Mn, then, the Cloud Recess welcomes you,” Lan Wangji said, voice quiet in reassurance.
Both Mo’s bowed in gratitude, happy giggles escaping the littlest of them.
And so, together, they journeyed toward the Cloud Recesses, toward a future of new beginnings.
High in the shadowed hills, a snow-white fox watched them from the edge of the trees, its amber eyes gleaming with a predatory intelligence that made the air around it feel heavier. Silent as death, it lowered its head in what seemed almost like a deliberate acknowledgment, before vanishing into the wilderness with a sudden, fluid motion.
When it was gone, there was nothing but the faintest impression of its passing—two sets of paw prints in the fresh snow, as though it had never been there at all.