Work Text:
The Cloud Recesses do not often ring with the peal of children’s laughter, but today is different.
While their fathers take tea in the Yashi with Lan Qiren, the young masters Nie and Jin tear around after each other in the adjoining courtyard, small booted feet catching in the hems of their long robes as they chase each other around the immaculate garden in some intricate game of tag that Lan Zhan does not understand.
He wants to understand, he thinks. He’s just not quite sure yet.
“They won’t bite, you know.”
Lan Zhan startles, falling ungracefully out of his crouch behind the sturdy wooden doorframe, but when he rights himself and stands quickly, it’s only the older Nie boy, Huan-ge close behind him.
“Nie-xiong,” he says quietly, bowing properly and politely even as guilt flares through him at being caught spying like this. He cannot remember all of the rules of the Cloud Recesses, not just yet, but surely this must break at least one of them.
“Stop that, Mingjue! You frightened him, you big bully.” His brother swats at Nie Mingjue’s side, but though Lan Zhan’s eyes widen at the slight, the taller teen only rolls his eyes with a smile and a snort.
Huan-ge brings himself down to Lan Zhan’s level and stays like that for a few minutes, watching the children play quietly in a comfortable crouch, and eventually Lan Zhan feels his restless heart slow in his chest enough that he can tear his attention away from Nie Mingjue’s imposing figure and turn back to look out into the garden.
“A-Zhan,” Huan-ge says softly, one hand reaching up to pet his head gently. “Would you like to go and play with them?”
Play?
Lan Zhan doesn’t remember the last time he played with someone his own age. The thought makes him clutch at the front of his robes, little fingers curling into the fabric in naked longing, and Huan-ge gives him his usual gentle smile that never fails to make him feel safe.
“Zixuan and Huaisang are around the same age as you. Why don’t you try to get to know them? That way, in the future, you can be friends, like me and Mingjue.”
Friends.
The concept is…somewhat foreign.
It isn’t as if there aren’t any children his age in the Cloud Recesses. Lan Zhan passes by the Shaoshi almost daily on his way to his lessons, the classroom filled to the brim with chattering little Lans, so he knows there are other children around. He simply doesn’t get the chance to mix with them very often. After all, he has his private lessons with Shufu, and his guqin to practice, and his characters to learn, and plenty of books to read. As a son of the sect leader, he doesn’t have time to be messing around playing with other children.
Jin Zixuan and Nie Huaisang are also the sons of sect leaders, though, and here they are trailing after each other and getting dust on their knees as they tumble around.
If they’re allowed to act their age, then why shouldn’t Lan Zhan be able to join in just this once?
It’s such an enticing idea, and yet at the same time so overwhelming that he shrinks into Huan-ge’s side uncertainly, though he does not take his eyes off them once.
“Say, xiao-di,” Lan Zhan hears, and he peeks out from behind Xichen’s side to see Nie Mingjue sit down next to them, legs hanging over the edge of the walkway haphazardly. “I heard from Xichen here that you have rabbits in the Cloud Recesses. Is that true?”
This gets his attention.
Lan Zhan loves the rabbits.
He nods, ignoring the small smile that Huan-ge tries to conceal behind his sleeve.
“Do you like the rabbits?” Nie Mingjue asks, and Lan Zhan nods again more enthusiastically.
“I like them,” he answers immediately. “They’re soft.”
It earns him a smile from Nie Mingjue that warms the older boy’s face, making him look much less frightening. “Are they, now? Well, we don’t have rabbits like that back in Qinghe, but Huaisang’s mother gave him a kitten a little while back. It’s a silly little thing, fat and orange and clumsy, but it’ll chase a paper butterfly, and it’s very soft.”
A kitten! How lovely. Lan Zhan has only seen a cat once, a skittish thing down in Caiyi Town that ran away as soon as he laid eyes on it. How rich the Nies must be, to have a cat in their home that plays with them and lets them stroke its fur whenever they want!
“What is its name?”
Nie Mingjue pauses, scrunches up his face for a moment. “You know, I’ve all but forgotten. Silly me! Why not go and ask Huaisang?”
Lan Zhan frowns, knowing he’s been deceived, but Huan-ge’s still smiling that easy smile that means he’s not angry at Nie Mingjue for his trickery, and Huan-ge always looks out for him. If Huan-ge isn’t angry, Lan Zhan can follow his lead.
“It’s okay, he’s a sweet kid,” Nie Mingjue encourages him. “Go talk to him, and maybe next time there’s a gathering at Qinghe, you can come along with your uncle and meet the kitten.”
Meet the kitten! Lan Zhan would enjoy that very much indeed.
Despite himself, Lan Zhan looks between them and the garden a few times, back and forth, but a shriek interrupts them just as he’s steeling himself to step outside.
“A-Sang, put that back, it’s dirty!” Jin Zixuan shouts as Nie Huaisang simply giggles, a huge frog clasped between his two hands. It’s a ridiculous sight — the beast is almost as big as his head, dripping muddy water down the front of his silvery robes, but Huaisang just keeps grinning his gap-toothed little grin like the frog is the greatest treasure in all of Gusu.
Both Huan-ge and Nie Mingjue burst into laughter, and even Lan Zhan feels the beginnings of a little smile on his face, but it only lasts for a moment before the atmosphere ices over, and Lan Zhan knows Shufu has arrived.
“Lan-xiansheng,” Nie Mingjue greets him, all teenage bravado and gangly limbs disguised in a perfect formal bow as he scrambles to his feet, Xichen quick to follow behind him. Lan Zhan, too, greets his uncle as he has been taught to, with a small bow and an even smaller, “Shufu.”
Lan Qiren does not reply immediately, gazing out at the children in the garden with an impassive expression.
“Nie-gongzi,” he says quietly. “Nie-xiao-gongzi is certainly in high spirits today. Let us hope that he has learned to follow in your esteemed example by the time he returns to the Cloud Recesses for his studies.”
Lan Zhan can’t quite grasp the exact meaning of Shufu’s words, but Huan-ge’s stifled wince tells him all he needs to know.
An unhappy look crosses Nie Mingjue’s face, and he turns to bark, “Huaisang! Put that down and stop fooling around.”
He is only trying to help, and yet Shufu still finds the need to draw in a long, steadying breath, clearly about to remind Nie Mingjue of the many rules regarding raising one’s voice in the Cloud Recesses.
Huan-ge valiantly tries to offer Lan Zhan a way out of what is quickly becoming an awkward situation. “Go on, A-Zhan,” he says quietly, giving him a gentle nudge in the back. “Go and say hello to the other young masters.”
As much as he wants to, Lan Zhan’s feet are rooted to the spot. He wants so badly to step into the garden, to run and play and laugh with the other boys… And yet, when Shufu’s eyes are on him like this, bearing down on him like a chill wind, he cannot bear to step a toe out of line.
“Running and shouting are not permitted in the Cloud Recesses,” he replies quietly, drawing back from the bright spring sunlight into the shade of the covered walkway.
For a moment, none of them speak. A look passes between Xichen and Shufu above his head, and for a moment, Shufu looks almost guilty.
…No, that can’t be right. Lan Zhan is still learning how best to read the expressions of other people — he must have misinterpreted, somehow.
Shufu clears his throat and his usual calm expression slides into place again.
“Your teachers told me you’re making excellent progress with your guqin lessons, A-Zhan. Perhaps, since our meeting has finished for the day, you might like to show me what you’ve been practicing?”
Lan Zhan nods in agreement, small and stilted. He bids the older boys farewell with a polite “Nie-xiong, xiongzhang,” and makes sure not to stray from Shufu’s side as they retire to the safety of the Jingshi.
Yet for all his best efforts, he cannot resist one last look over his shoulder into the garden, where Jin Zixuan and Nie Huaisang are already playing some other fantastical game that Lan Zhan can never hope to understand.
For years since, Lan Zhan had barely given the peculiarities of his own childhood a moment’s thought, but there’s nothing to bring back childhood memories like having a child of one’s own.
Though the sun sits high in the sky today, the Cloud Recesses are still pleasantly cool. Were it not for the humidity laying languid in the heavy air, one might not even notice the arrival of summer. Lan Zhan glides through the shaded walkways with no particular destination in mind. A-Yuan is a quiet shadow at his side, though Lan Zhan can hear the lightness in his step as he tries not to skip, fresh out of a guqin lesson. It’s not enough to make him smile, not quite, but just as A-Yuan’s steps are light on the wooden pathway before them, so is Lan Zhan’s spirit.
As such, it takes him a moment to process the sudden noise ahead. After all, it is not often one hears a dog barking in the Cloud Recesses.
Lan Zhan follows the sound of the commotion, drawn to a secluded courtyard close to the Hanshi. He’s not sure who he expects to see — a few of the rowdier juniors, perhaps — but it’s certainly not his brother and an exasperated Lianfang-zun.
Sect Leader Jin, he supposes he must call him now. How quickly the time passes.
“Wangji,” Xichen greets him warmly as Sect Leader Jin extends a formal bow. Lan Zhan remains silent, but he offers a deeper bow in response, scar tissue tugging tight on his back. A-Yuan bows next to him, polite as always, but Lan Zhan tucks the child behind his robes in one smooth motion, wary. Neither man seems to take much notice.
“Apologies for the racket. We were trying to get the children to settle down before taking them through to the Yashi’s gardens for the meeting of Sect Leaders, but it’s proving to be quite the task.”
Lan Zhan inclines his head to look into the courtyard and sees two young boys, one clad in green, one gold. At the feet of one of them sits a little dog, panting in excitement. None of the three of them look anything close to settled.
“Animals are not permitted in the Cloud Recesses,” he says quietly to his brother, but it’s a question, not a reprimand. As always, Xichen understands what Lan Zhan is trying to say perfectly.
“Wangji, this is young master Zizhen, son of Sect Leader Ouyang, and Lianfang-zun’s nephew, Jin Ling.”
“My apologies, Hanguang-jun,” Sect Leader Jin chimes in, his fox’s smile uncommonly strained at the corners today. “A-Ling is rather attached to the pup. I tried to convince him to leave her in Lanling, but he was…somewhat loathe to part with her.”
Lan Zhan looks to Xichen, sees the first signs of impatience starting to show in the set of his brow, and finds himself offering, “I will watch over them, if you are short on time.”
A weight seems to fall from Sect Leader Jin’s shoulders, even as his brother gives him a surprised look.
“It is no trouble,” Lan Zhan continues evenly. “I would not want the two of you to be late.”
Xichen does not seem entirely convinced, but Sect Leader Jin clutches his elbow with a harried smile.
“He’s right, Er-ge, we really are running behind.” Turning to Lan Zhan, he drops into a low bow again. “This one will take you up on your generous offer most gratefully. My eternal thanks, Hanguang-jun.”
Relief rolls off the man in waves as he looks with another strained smile to his nephew, gleefully rolling on the ground with the dog. It is no secret that Jin Ling spends most of his time in Yunmeng, so why Sect Leader Jin has dragged him all the way to Gusu instead of leaving him in the care of one of the many capable nannies back in Lanling, Lan Zhan cannot possibly say. The thought that it might be a carefully calculated political decision makes something unpleasant curl in his gut.
With a few more hurried words of thanks, the two of them leave Lan Zhan with the children — certainly not rushing, but walking fast enough that it might raise an eyebrow, should one of the Lan elders catch sight of them.
He had not lied to his brother. It is no trouble at all to watch over the two young masters. There is, at one point, a moment when Jin Ling crows some childish nonsense so triumphantly that Lan Zhan is briefly reminded of someone else who used to do much the same thing, many years ago, but he slams the door shut on the memory as soon as it arises.
Now is not the time for such thoughts.
Instead of losing himself in his memories, Lan Zhan simply stands patiently and observes, arms tucked behind his back. Before long, though, he cannot help but notice the way A-Yuan stands silently to attention next to him, pretending not to watch the other boys as he fidgets with his long sleeves.
“Would you like to go and play with them?” He asks his son gently, and A-Yuan flinches like he’s been caught breaking a rule.
“A-Yuan will wait with A-Die,” he mumbles, and Lan Zhan hums a thoughtful sound.
“Is that so?”
A-Yuan nods, chewing at his bottom lip. “Frivolity’s not permitted in the Cloud Recesses. It…wouldn’t be proper.”
Lan Zhan isn’t sure how to describe the feeling that crashes through him like a flash flood — it’s not quite sadness, not quite anger, perhaps a perverse mixture of both at the same time — but in an instant, he’s crouching down, one large hand resting on A-Yuan’s shoulder as he makes sure to meet his eyes.
“A-Yuan,” he says seriously, “you have the rest of your life to uphold the Lan principles. When you are older, you may concern yourself all you like with propriety, but you must not let it stop you from enjoying your youth. Do you understand?”
His son cringes slightly, curling in on himself. “I don’t know how to play,” he finally admits shyly.
“Then allow the others to teach you.”
“What if we end up shouting?”
Lan Zhan raises his eyebrows in as close to a shrug as he will ever come. “There is nobody around to hear but you and I.”
“What if we run around?”
“A-Die will make sure to look the other way.”
“What if my robes get dirty?”
“Robes can be washed, A-Yuan. Missed opportunities are much harder to make up for.”
A-Yuan still looks conflicted, and Lan Zhan feels his expression soften. Poor thing. For one born to the Wen, he is more Lan than any of the rest of them. Lan Zhan wishes that didn’t make him quite so proud.
“Piety to one’s sect is of course important, but so is fostering and strengthening relationships with one’s peers outside of the walls of the Cloud Recesses. I believe the young masters Zizhen and Jin Ling are near your age. You might be great allies in the future, if only you can introduce yourself today.”
Lan Zhan hopes with all of his heart that the meeting of the Sect Leaders is in full swing by now. If Xichen should happen to overhear Lan Zhan teaching his son a lesson that his older brother had once tried to teach him in his youth, he’ll never let him forget it.
Courageous, clever, and yet still too cautious for his own good, A-Yuan cannot seem to decide what to do, so Lan Zhan urges him forward with a firm but gentle push. “Go,” he says softly, “Be brave, and you can tell me all about it later.”
Fear flashes across A-Yuan’s face for a moment, but he takes a breath and gives Lan Zhan a little nod, turning to approach the other two gingerly in a way that makes Lan Zhan’s chest ache.
The two boys don’t notice him immediately, but once A-Yuan draws close in his little white robes, they both look up at him from where they’ve been tumbling around with the dog, suspicious looks on their faces.
“Hello,” A-Yuan tries carefully, posture stiff and formal. “Welcome to the Cloud Recesses. My name is Lan Yuan. That’s my A-Die over there.”
The other two just look at him blankly for a moment, and A-Yuan turns back with a worried look. Lan Zhan gives him a little nod.
Sucking in a deep breath, A-Yuan turns around and tries again. “That’s a pretty dog.”
The boy in gold — Jin Ling, Lan Zhan assumes — sniffs haughtily at him. “She’s not just a dog. She’s a spiritual dog.”
“Oh. What’s a spiritual dog?”
“It’s…” Jin Ling frowns, and for a moment his face is so much like his father’s that though they were not friends by any means, Lan Zhan misses Jin Zixuan fiercely. “It’s like a regular dog, but better. Way better.”
“What’s her name?”
“Little Fairy.”
“That’s a good name,” A-Yuan says sagely, and Jin Ling’s face lights up.
“It is a good name. See, Zizhen? Jiujiu said the Lans were smart, and he was right. A-Yuan, have you ever flown on a sword before? My jiujiu lets me fly with him on his sword sometimes, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”
“Only once,” A-Yuan admits, but it’s enough for Ouyang Zizhen to gasp at him in amazement.
“A-Yuan, that’s so cool. I’ve never flown on a sword before, but I will one day. I’m Zizhen, and that’s A-Ling, and we’re friends now so you have to take us flying on a sword one day, okay?”
Lan Zhan barely manages to conceal a huff of amusement. Children are such simple creatures.
The friendship he could have fostered with Jin Zixuan and Nie Huaisang is long lost to him now, one of them dead and the other barely holding a sect together through his grief. Would it have been so simple to befriend them, back on that spring day long ago when they had all been young? Lan Zhan does not know, will never know, and he only has his own foolishness to thank for that. But perhaps he can learn from his mistakes, and nudge A-Yuan towards a life that is warmer, less lonely than his own.
(It wasn’t always this lonely, a traitorous thought whispers, but he slams the door on that one too.)
When Xichen comes to retrieve them some hours later, the sun has sunk low on the horizon, and Lan Zhan no longer stands but rests gracefully on his knees on the wooden walkway, his posture not quite so rigid as usual. With his head pillowed on Lan Zhan’s knee, Ouyang Zizhen sleeps soundly, while Jin Ling and A-Yuan doze against his side with Little Fairy in their laps, tucked up together as if they had known each other all their lives.
Xichen glows as he shoots Lan Zhan a little smile, settling down on his knees next to him to sit in the warm, creeping glow of the evening sun.
“Sect Leaders Jin and Ouyang will be by shortly to collect their wards,” he says after a while, his voice low and soft. “I trust they weren’t too much trouble?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head. When he says nothing more, Xichen looks down at A-Yuan and Jin Ling, his smile growing softer at the corners.
“Look at you. The mighty Hanguang-jun, second Jade of Gusu Lan, allowing the next generation of sect leaders to clamber all over you like a pile of sleepy little rabbits.”
“They wore themselves out. I cannot help where they chose to rest.”
“Fatherhood is making you soft, Wangji.”
“I believe they should be allowed to be children while they still have the chance,” Lan Zhan says quietly, eyeing his brother with a sidelong look, “something I fear we did not benefit from in our youth.”
A complicated blend of emotions flashes across Xichen’s face, but eventually it settles on a soft expression — not his fake Sect Leader smile, but a true, warm grin — and he reaches out a hand, resting it on Lan Zhan’s head as he once had when they were small.
“You’ve grown up well, Wangji,” he says gently.
“Through no merit of my own, xiongzhang.” As Lan Zhan looks out into the small courtyard, he allows himself the smallest of smiles. "I simply had the best of teachers to help guide me along the way.”
Xichen’s eyes crinkle at the corners in understanding, and they sit in peaceful silence as the sun sets.
Perhaps, Lan Zhan thinks as he closes his eyes and listens to his brother’s steady breathing, his childhood had not been all that lonely. After all, what friend can compare to a brother?