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The atmosphere in the Sunshot Campaign discussion hall was suffocatingly tense, choked with the smell of stale tea, heavily marked tactical maps, and burning tempers. As usual, Wei Wuxian sat skewed in his crude wooden chair, twirling Chenqing with a bored flick of his wrist. His dark, chilling aura was a stark contrast to the pristine robes of the other cultivators gathered in the temporary war camp, leaving everyone on edge since his terrifying return from the Burial Mounds.
And, as usual, Jin Zixun couldn't stand it.
"You arrogant, demonic upstart!" Jin Zixun roared, slamming his fist on the heavy war table and rattling the brass troop markers. "You sit there acting like you're above us all, while the rest of us spill blood on the front lines!"
Wei Wuxian didn't even look up. "If you spent as much time fighting Wens as you do yelling at me, Jin-gongzi, the war would already be over."
Furious, Jin Zixun’s face contorted. Driven by a sudden, malicious impulse, he whipped a heavy, glowing golden talisman from his sleeve—one designed for aggressive suppression—and threw it directly across the table at Wei Wuxian's chest. "See how arrogant you are when you're brought to your knees!"
"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji’s voice cut through the tent like shattered ice, his hand flying to the hilt of Bichen.
But the talisman struck before anyone could intervene.
A blinding flash of spiritual light erupted, accompanied by a heavy *pop* that sent grey smoke billowing across the Yunmeng Jiang sector of the table. Jiang Cheng jumped up, Sandu half-drawn, shouting, "Wei Wuxian!"
As the smoke cleared, the dark, formidable master of demonic cultivation was gone.
Instead, sitting in a pile of oversized black robes that swallowed him completely on the dirty floorboards of the war tent, was a tiny boy. He looked no older than five years old, with round, chubby cheeks, wide gray eyes, and a red ribbon tangled clumsily in his messy hair.
The silence in the war room was absolute.
Little Wei Ying blinked, looking around the massive, intimidating tent. His five-year-old mind had no recollection of the Sunshot Campaign, the loss of Lotus Pier, or the war. He was just a small, frightened child surrounded by shouting strangers in a scary place. His lower lip began to tremble, and tears pooled in his huge eyes.
Then, his gaze locked onto a figure seated nearby.
Lan Wangji was frozen, his pristine white robes glowing softly under the dim oil lamps of the camp, a stark beacon of absolute safety and calm in the chaotic room. To five-year-old Wei Ying, this man looked like a literal god—someone beautiful, clean, and safe.
With a tiny, determined sniff, the toddler scrambled out of the mountain of black fabric, tripping over the hem, and toddled as fast as his short legs could carry him straight toward the Lan sect tables.
"Lan Zhan—" Jiang Cheng started, utterly bewildered, reaching out a hand. "Wei Wuxian, get back here!"
But Wei Ying ignored him entirely. He reached the white-clad cultivator, grabbed a fistful of Lan Wangji’s immaculate robes, and buried his face directly into the man's thigh.
Lan Wangji stiffened. For a terrifying second, the Great Hanguang-jun looked entirely helpless in the middle of a war council. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, his ears flushing a brilliant crimson as thirty sect leaders stared at him. He looked up at his brother, Lan Xichen, with a rare, panicked *'What do I do?'* expression.
But as Wei Ying let out a small, muffled sob and squeezed tighter, Lan Wangji’s expression instantly melted. The tension bled out of his shoulders. With a gentleness that shocked everyone in the room, Lan Wangji gathered the small child into his arms, lifting him securely onto his lap.
Wei Ying immediately stopped crying. He wrapped his tiny arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, burrowing into the scent of sandalwood, completely at peace. He had instantly and entirely imprinted on the cold jade of Gusu.
"Jin Zixun!" Jiang Cheng’s voice thundered, purple lightning sparking around Zidian. "What the hell did you do to him?!"
"I-I didn't mean to do *this*!" Jin Zixun stammered, backing away from the table. "It was supposed to be a standard suppression talisman! The spiritual backlash of his... his *dark arts* must have inverted the energy!"
"Enough," Nie Mingjue growled, his saber Baxia rattling in its sheath, silencing the tent. He turned a hard gaze to the toddler. "Jiang Wanyin, he is your sect's head disciple. Take him so the camp healers can figure out a counter-curse."
Jiang Cheng suppressed his fury, stepping forward. He walked over to Lan Wangji and reached out to grab the child. "Wei Wuxian. Come here. Let's go."
The moment Jiang Cheng’s hands came near, Wei Ying’s head snapped up. His face crumpled. He let out a piercing, high-pitched shriek, kicking his tiny legs and scrambling violently backward, trying to push himself *inside* Lan Wangji’s robes.
"No! No! Go away! *Lan Gege!*" Wei Ying wailed, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he clung to Lan Wangji’s collar like a koala.
Jiang Cheng froze, his hands hovering, a sharp sting of bitter resentment slicing through his chest. Even like this—even with his memories wiped, turned into a helpless child in a military camp who didn't know who anyone was—Wei Wuxian *still* preferred Lan Wangji. He still threw himself at the Lan sect, rejecting his own brother, desperate for Hanguang-jun's attention.
"Wei Wuxian, stop crying! I'm trying to help you!" Jiang Cheng snapped, his voice tight with hurt and irritation.
But the harsher Jiang Cheng's voice got, the louder Wei Ying wailed, burying his face back into Lan Wangji’s neck, his tiny frame shaking with deep, dramatic toddler sobs.
Lan Wangji’s eyes darkened. Without a word, he shifted Wei Ying securely against his chest, shielding him from view, and leveled the Jiang Sect Leader with a glare so fiercely protective it could have frozen the sun.
"Do not yell at him," Lan Wangji said, his voice dropping an octave.
"He's my brother!" Jiang Cheng snarled.
Beside them, Lan Xichen hid his mouth behind his wide sleeve, a brilliant, thoroughly amused smile gracing his lips. He looked at his brother, who was now softly patting the toddler's back in a rhythmic, practiced motion, and then at the absolute chaos of the war council.
"Sect Leader Jiang, please calm your anger," Lan Xichen said, his tone dripping with gentle amusement. "It seems young Master Wei has made his choice for the time being. Perhaps it is best if Wangji cares for him in the Lan sector of the camp until our healers can reverse the effects. For the sake of... peace in the strategy meetings."
Wei Ying sniffled, peeking out from behind Lan Wangji’s shoulder with wide, teary eyes, letting out a small, victorious hiccup while firmly holding onto Hanguang-jun's forehead ribbon. Lan Wangji didn't care about the broken rule at all.
---
### The War Camp's New Routine
The war council did not resume that day. It was impossible to discuss supply lines and troop movements when the fearsome dark cultivator was currently gumming the silver bell attached to his own oversized Yunmeng Jiang sash, sitting securely on Hanguang-jun’s lap.
"Wangji," Lan Xichen murmured softly, leaning in closer to his brother as the council began to disperse. "Perhaps we should retire to our quarters. I believe Sect Leader Jiang requires a moment to... settle his thoughts."
Jiang Cheng looked like he was about to combust. Zidian was crackling so wildly around his fingers that the edges of the wooden war table were beginning to char. "He’s doing this on purpose," Jiang Cheng muttered, his voice dangerously low. "Even as a brat, he knows exactly how to make a fool out of me in front of the other sects."
"He is five, Sect Leader Jiang," Lan Wangji said smoothly. He didn't look up, his large, elegant hands carefully gathering the excess fabric of Wei Ying’s adult robes so the boy wouldn't trip over them on the dirt floor. "He does not possess the capacity for malice."
As if to prove the point, Wei Ying let go of the bell, looked up at Lan Wangji, and offered a bright, gummy, completely innocent smile. "*Lan Gege*, pretty," he chirped, his voice high and sweet. He reached up, his sticky, toddler fingers smudging right against Lan Wangji’s pristine cheek.
The nearby Lan disciples collectively held their breath. Lan Wangji was a notorious germaphobe. He loathed being touched, let alone by a sticky child in a dusty military camp.
Instead of flinching, Lan Wangji merely tilted his head slightly into the touch, his eyes softening into a gaze so incredibly tender that Lan Xichen had to turn away to hide his outright grinning.
"Mn," Lan Wangji replied quietly. "Wei Ying is also good."
"Right. That's it. I'm taking him," Jiang Cheng snapped, his patience snapping like a dry twig. He marched around the table, determined to wrestle his head disciple away from the Gusu Lan sect. "Wei Wuxian, you are a Jiang! You don't beg for scraps from the Lans! Come here!"
The moment Jiang Cheng took a threatening step forward, Wei Ying’s smile vanished. His big gray eyes went wide with terror. He let out a sharp, panicked shriek, twisted around, and practically tried to climb up Lan Wangji's face to get away.
"No! No! Big scary leader! No!" Wei Ying wailed, kicking his small legs frantically. One of his stray kicks accidentally caught Jiang Cheng right in the chin.
*Smack.*
The room went dead silent again. Jiang Cheng froze, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple. He had been kicked. By a five-year-old Wei Wuxian.
"Wei. Wuxian," Jiang Cheng hissed through his teeth.
Wei Ying buried his face into the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck, sobbing hysterically now, his tiny hands clutching the white silk of Lan Wangji’s inner robes as if his life depended on it. "Go 'way! *Lan Gege*, make him go 'way! A-Ying be good, A-Ying promise!"
The desperate, fearful plea hit Lan Wangji right in the chest. Without a second thought, Lan Wangji stood up, shielding the crying child entirely with his body. He adjusted his grip, supporting Wei Ying’s bottom with one arm while his other hand came up to cradle the back of the boy's head, pressing him protectively against his shoulder.
"Sect Leader Jiang," Lan Wangji said, his voice dropping to a freezing, absolute zero. Bichen rattled in its sheath, emitting a sharp, warning hum that vibrated through the tent. "You are distressing him. Step back."
"He is *my* family!" Jiang Cheng yelled, his bitterness spilling over. "Why does he always choose *you*? He doesn't even know who you are!"
That was the crux of it. It bit at Jiang Cheng's pride, raw and bleeding. Yet, stripped of all his memories, reduced to his barest, most instinctive self, Wei Wuxian hadn't run to the purple robes of the sect that raised him. He had run straight into the arms of a man he usually spent his days teasing and provoking.
"Family does not make a child weep," Lan Wangji said coldly, turning his back on the Jiang Sect Leader. He looked at his brother. "Xichen. I am leaving."
"Go ahead, Wangji," Lan Xichen said, his voice a soothing balm over the tense tent, though his eyes danced with silent laughter. "I will handle the council. Please ensure young Master Wei is fed."
With a final, sweeping glance that warned everyone else—especially a trembling Jin Zixun—not to even breathe in their direction, Lan Wangji turned and walked out of the strategy tent with long, measured strides, heading toward the quieter Lan sector of the camp.
As the heavy tent flaps closed behind them, the suffocating atmosphere of the Sunshot Campaign seemed to fade away, replaced by the soft, rhythmic sound of Wei Ying’s hiccups slowing down.
"Hungry..." Wei Ying mumbled against Lan Wangji’s collar, his little fingers twisting into the fabric. "*Lan Gege*, A-Ying's tummy is making noise."
Lan Wangji looked down at the small bundle in his arms. The black-clad warrior was gone, replaced by a soft, vulnerable little boy who needed to be protected from the harshness of the world.
"Mn," Lan Wangji murmured, his voice softer than anyone in the cultivation world had ever heard it. "We will find something sweet."
Wei Ying sniffled, looking up with big, hopeful eyes. "Sweet? Like loquats?"
Lan Wangji’s heart did a strange, unfamiliar flip. He adjusted the child closer to his chest, a small, barely perceptible smile touching the corners of his lips. "Yes. As many as Wei Ying wants."
---
### A Sister's Visit
The news of what had transpired in the discussion tent spread through the camp like wildfire. By the time Lan Wangji reached his private, temporary tent, a gentle, familiar figure was already waiting outside.
Jiang Yanli stood with her hands gracefully tucked into her purple sleeves, a look of profound worry etching her normally serene face. Next to her, Jiang Cheng was pacing on the dirt path, still vibrating with residual fury and bruised pride.
"A-Cheng, please stop pacing," Yanli said softly, her voice a calm oasis in the midst of the camp's chaos. "You will scare him further."
"He’s already terrified of me, Jie!" Jiang Cheng barked, though he immediately toned down his voice at her reprimand. "He kicked me! He treats Hanguang-jun like his savior and me like a monster!"
The sound of approaching footsteps cut their argument short. Lan Wangji emerged from the camp's main thoroughfare, still carrying the tiny, black-robed bundle tightly against his chest. Wei Ying had fallen into a light doze, his thumb tucked firmly into his mouth, his nose booping rhythmically against Lan Wangji’s collarbone.
Seeing her brother reduced to a fragile, helpless toddler in a harsh war environment, Yanli’s breath hitched. A wave of maternal instinct and deep sorrow washed over her. "A-Xian..." she whispered, stepping forward.
Lan Wangji stopped instantly. His grip on the child tightened instinctively, his golden eyes flashing with a protective, guarded light. But out of respect for the woman Wei Ying cherished above all others in his adult life, Wangji bowed his head slightly. "Sect Leader Jiang. Maiden Jiang."
"Hanguang-jun," Yanli returned the bow, her eyes never leaving the sleeping child. "I heard what happened. May I... may I see him?"
Before Lan Wangji could answer, the shift in movement woke the toddler. Wei Ying blinked his big, sleepy gray eyes, rubbing them with a chubby fist. He looked up, saw Jiang Cheng standing a few feet away, and instantly whimpered, burying his face back into Lan Wangji’s neck.
"A-Xian, it's alright," Yanli said, her voice dropping to the incredibly sweet, soothing melody she used whenever her brothers were hurt. She knelt down on the dirt path, bringing herself to eye level with the child in Lan Wangji's arms, keeping a respectful distance so as not to startle him. "No one is going to hurt you."
Hearing the gentle voice, Wei Ying peeked out from behind Lan Wangji’s shoulder. He looked at Yanli. His five-year-old mind searched his memories, but there was no Lotus Pier there. At five years old, his parents had only recently passed away, or he was still wandering the cold, terrifying streets of Yiling, begging for scraps and fleeing from wild dogs. He didn't know this kind lady in purple.
But kids have an instinct for absolute kindness, and Jiang Yanli practically radiated it.
"Who... who are you?" Wei Ying whispered, his voice tiny and timid.
Jiang Cheng flinched behind her, a fresh wave of bitterness hitting him, though he kept his mouth shut. *He really doesn't remember us.*
Yanli smiled, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "My name is Jiang Yanli. You can call me Shijie, if you like. I brought you something from the camp kitchens."
From a small basket beside her, she produced a small, perfectly peeled, sweet loquat.
Wei Ying’s eyes went wide. He looked at the fruit, then up at Lan Wangji, as if asking for permission. Lan Wangji looked down at him, his expression softening completely. "It is safe. Maiden Jiang is... very good to Wei Ying."
Hearing Lan Wangji’s endorsement, Wei Ying lost some of his fear. He cautiously reached out a tiny, chubby hand, taking the loquat from Yanli’s palm. He took a big bite, the sweet juice bursting in his mouth, and a brilliant, radiant smile broke across his small face. "Sweet! Thank you, pretty lady!"
Yanli let out a soft, watery laugh, her heart aching with a mix of joy and sorrow. She reached out, her movements incredibly slow and deliberate, giving him every chance to pull away. When he didn't, she gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.
"Hanguang-jun," Yanli said softly, looking up at the Lan cultivator. "Thank you for protecting him. My brother... A-Cheng did not mean to frighten him. He was only worried. A-Xian came to our family when he was nine years old. At five... he has no memory of us. He only remembers being alone and afraid on the streets."
Lan Wangji’s chest tightened painfully at her words. *Alone and afraid.* He looked down at the toddler who was happily munching on the fruit, completely oblivious to the tragedy of his own timeline.
"I understand," Lan Wangji said quietly, his gaze shifting briefly to Jiang Cheng. The hostility in his eyes had faded, replaced by a solemn, mutual understanding of the situation.
"A-Ceng," Yanli called gently, turning to her younger brother. "Come here. Slowly."
Jiang Cheng swallowed hard. He stepped forward, his boots crunching softly on the dirt. He stopped a few feet away, awkwardly crossing his arms, looking entirely out of his depth. "Wei Wuxian," he mumbled, his voice rough but lacking its previous bite. "You... you like the loquat?"
Wei Ying swallowed his bite, eyeing Jiang Cheng cautiously. He still shrank back against Lan Wangji a little bit, but seeing that the "big scary leader" wasn't yelling anymore, and that the kind lady and his *Lan Gege* were right there, he nodded timidly. "Mn. It's good."
Jiang Cheng let out a long, heavy breath, the tight knot of resentment in his chest loosening just a fraction. He looked at Lan Wangji, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Keep him in your tent for now. If he stays with the Jiang sect right now, he'll just cry and disrupt our strategy. But the moment the camp healers find a cure, he's coming back."
Lan Wangji didn't argue. He simply adjusted his grip on Wei Ying, his silence serving as his agreement.
"Thank you, Hanguang-jun," Yanli said, rising gracefully to her feet. She patted Jiang Cheng’s arm comfortingly. "We will leave him in your care for tonight. I will make some soup for him in the camp kitchen later."
As the Jiang siblings turned to walk away, Wei Ying watched them go, his little mouth full of fruit. He tugged on Lan Wangji's collar to get his attention.
"*Lan Gege*," Wei Ying whispered loudly.
"Mn?"
"The lady is nice," the toddler decided, nodding firmly. "But I like *Lan Gege* best."
Lan Wangji’s ears turned a vivid, uncontrollable shade of pink. He quickly looked away, but his arm wrapped just a little bit tighter around the boy. "Eat your fruit, Wei Ying."
---
### A Week in the Tent
Over the next week, Lan Wangji's temporary war tent became a sanctuary of quiet, domestic discipline—an oasis of calm in the middle of a noisy, muddy military camp.
Every morning at 5:00 AM, as the distant sounds of the camp waking up and soldiers training began to echo through the fabric walls, Lan Wangji would open his eyes to find a tiny, dark-haired bundle already sitting cross-legged on the meditation mat next to him. Wei Ying had taken to copying *everything* his *Lan Gege* did. He would puff out his little chest, clasp his chubby hands over his knees, close his eyes, and try to sit perfectly still. Within three minutes, he would inevitably peep one gray eye open to see if Lan Wangji was watching, giving a proud, toothy grin when he caught Hanguang-jun looking.
Because he believed the child wouldn't remember a thing once the cure was found, Lan Wangji allowed his usual walls to crumble entirely. During their quiet evenings, with only the soft glow of a single candle shielding them from the harsh war outside, Lan Wangji spoke to him with a gentle, unreserved candor.
He told the little boy secrets he had never spoken aloud to anyone. He whispered of the suffocating grief of losing his mother, the crushing weight of Gusu's three thousand rules, and the terrifying, breathtaking moment a vibrant, rule-breaking boy had climbed over the Cloud Recesses walls with two jars of Emperor's Smile. He told the child how much he missed that bright smile during the dark days of this war, and how it broke his heart to see the adult Wei Ying wielding a dark, resentful flute instead of a sword.
"I only wish to protect you," Lan Wangji whispered one night, gently stroking the toddler's soft hair as the boy drifted off to sleep to the sound of distant camp patrols marching past. "I only wish for you to come back to Gusu with me, where you can be safe. Where I can care for you."
But Wei Ying wasn't just listening to the soothing cadence of Lan Wangji’s voice; his pure, untainted spirit was absorbing the sheer depth of Lan Wangji's spiritual energy in the small tent.
Driven by an instinctive desire to be just like his beloved *Lan Gege*, little Wei Ying began mimicking Lan Wangji's breathing exercises perfectly. Because his mind was perfectly at peace under Lan Wangji's care, a miracle occurred. On the seventh day, as Lan Wangji placed a hand on the boy's lower abdomen to check his spiritual pathways, he gasped.
A faint, microscopic spark of pure, warm spiritual energy was swirling in the child's dantian.
A tiny, brand-new golden core had formed.
It was minuscule, nothing more than a fragile ember, but it was *there*. Lan Wangji’s chest swelled with a profound, overwhelming sense of pride. He pulled the boy into a rare, tight embrace, his heart aching with hope for a future after this war. Lan Wangji believed that Wei Ying's original core had simply been damaged or suppressed by his unorthodox cultivation, and that this new growth was a miraculous recovery.
He had no idea of the dark reality. He did not know that Wei Wuxian's original core was entirely gone, resting inside Jiang Cheng. No one in the world knew that heartbreaking secret except for Wei Wuxian and the Wen siblings, Wen Qing and Wen Ning. Lan Wangji truly believed this was just a beautiful spiritual awakening.
---
### The Return
By the ninth day, the Lan and Jiang healers finally perfected the neutralizing potion in the medical tents.
The transition happened in the quiet of the morning inside Lan Wangji's tent. A bright flash of silver light enveloped the toddler, and within moments, the small frame stretched, the oversized robes finally fitting their rightful owner.
Wei Wuxian blinked, shaking his head as his adult consciousness flooded back. He sat up on the simple camp cot, looking down at his hands, then at his chest. He felt inside his dantian and froze. There, sitting right alongside the dark pathways of his demonic cultivation, was a tiny, pristine spark of golden spiritual light.
His eyes widened in shock. His original core was gone forever, given to Jiang Cheng—he knew that. But this... this was entirely new. It was a brand-new, minuscule golden core that had formed from the pure, unstained spirit of his five-year-old self under Lan Wangji's care. It was small, but it was undeniably his. With decades of cultivation, with proper practice, it could grow. Suibian could fly again one day.
But far more overwhelming than the golden core were the memories.
Every word Lan Wangji had whispered, every protective embrace, every confession of hidden love and agonizing worry—Wei Wuxian remembered it all with absolute, crystal clarity. He looked up, his gray eyes wide and shining with unshed tears, to find Lan Wangji standing a few paces away near the tent opening, looking suddenly guarded and anxious, bracing himself for the return of the intense, closed-off warrior.
"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian breathed, his voice cracking.
Before Lan Wangji could step back, Wei Wuxian launched himself off the cot and threw his arms tightly around the standard-bearer of the Lan Sect. He buried his face into the familiar, sandalwood-scented crook of Lan Wangji’s neck, exactly as he had done for the past nine days.
"Wei Ying?" Lan Wangji choked out, his hands hovering in the air just as they had on day one. "Are you... do you know who—"
"I remember, Lan Zhan. I remember everything," Wei Wuxian sobbed, gripping the white robes fiercely. "I remember what you said in this tent. I remember how you held me. I remember how you protected me when I was small and had nothing."
He pulled back just enough to look into Lan Wangji’s stunned golden eyes. "I realized something, Lan Zhan. When I was a kid, I couldn't bear to be an inch away from you. And now that I'm big... it's exactly the same. I love you. I can't live without you anymore. Don't you dare try to push me away now."
Lan Wangji’s breath hitched. The utter sincerity, the fierce devotion in Wei Wuxian’s eyes was undeniable. The realization hit him like a tidal wave. Slowly, deliberately, Lan Wangji wrapped his powerful arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist, pulling him so close there was no space left between them.
"Never," Lan Wangji whispered fiercely. "I will never push you away."
---
An hour later, the heavy fabric flaps of the tent slammed open, and Jiang Cheng marched in, flanked by Jiang Yanli.
"Alright, the healers said the potion worked," Jiang Cheng barked, crossing his arms and bringing the loud reality of the war camp back with him. "Wei Wuxian, stop freeloading off the Lans and get your ass back to the Jiang tents—"
Jiang Cheng cut himself off, his jaw dropping so low it nearly hit the dirt floor.
Wei Wuxian was sitting on the edge of the camp cot, comfortably tucked right into Lan Wangji’s side, their fingers explicitly, tightly intertwined. To make matters worse, Wei Wuxian was wearing an incredibly smug, radiantly happy grin, while Lan Wangji looked altogether too serene, his free hand protectively resting on Wei Wuxian’s lower back.
"What... what the hell is this?" Jiang Cheng spluttered, his face turning an apocalyptic shade of crimson. "Wei Wuxian! Why are you still glued to him?!"
"Ah, Jiang Cheng, don't scream so early in the morning, we're in a war camp!" Wei Wuxian cheered, holding up their joined hands shamelessly. "I have great news! First, I have a tiny golden core again! It's small, but I'm going to grow it back!"
Jiang Cheng blinked, completely shocked but internally relieved that his brother's cultivation might return to normal, though he had absolutely no idea where Wei Wuxian's *first* core had actually gone. He assumed it was just a strange medical breakthrough.
"And the second piece of news is..." Wei Wuxian beamed, his smile softening into something deeply affectionate as he leaned his head against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. "I'm going back to Gusu with Lan Zhan after this war is over. I've realized I absolutely cannot live without him."
Jiang Cheng looked like he was having a physical medical emergency right there in the middle of the camp. He clutched his chest, pointing a trembling finger at his brother, his voice cracking in sheer, unadulterated horror.
"You—you shameless, ungrateful—! You turn into a brat for one week and you decide to sell yourself to Gusu?!" Jiang Cheng roared, Zidian sparking violently against the tent walls. "I knew it! I knew you did this on purpose just to spite me!"
Beside him, Jiang Yanli let out a soft, delighted giggle, covering her mouth as she watched her brothers bicker. She looked at the genuine happiness radiating from Wei Wuxian, and the quiet, immovable devotion in Lan Wangji's eyes, and knew that even in the middle of a brutal war camp, her brother was finally, truly safe.
---
### After the War: A New Beginning
The Sunshot Campaign eventually drew to a victorious close, and with the fall of Nightless City, the cultivation world tried to return to normal. However, the end of the war brought new political battles. When the greedy Jin Sect attempted to round up and slaughter the innocent civilian remnants of the Wen clan, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stood firmly together. Backed by the immense political weight of the Gusu Lan Sect—and with Lan Xichen firmly supporting his brother—they successfully intervened to rescue the remaining Wens.
Wen Qing, a heavily exhausted Wen Ning, and the rest of their innocent family members were saved from the labor camps before any tragedy could strike. Among the survivors was a tiny, wide-eyed toddler named A-Yuan.
Because they intercepted the Jins directly at the labor camps, Wei Wuxian never had to flee to Yiling, never had to raise the dead in anger, and therefore, he never received the fearsome title of the "Yiling Patriarch." He remained simply Wei Wuxian, the formidable head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, now walking hand-in-hand with Hanguang-jun.
The moment Wei Wuxian saw little A-Yuan, his heart melted, remembering his own time as a helpless child. Together, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian took A-Yuan as their official ward, bringing him under their combined protection. Not long after, a grand, beautiful wedding was held in the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji officially tied the red silks of marriage, their souls bonded forever.
To keep the Wen survivors safe and comfortable, a perfect solution was found. A beautiful, serene clearing was allocated for them just outside the borders of Gusu, nestled in a lush valley where a clear, sparkling river flowed. The Wen remnants moved there, building a lovely, peaceful village with sturdy wooden homes and thriving crop fields. It was the perfect location; it was entirely safe under Lan protection, and it allowed them to stay close to little A-Yuan, who frequently visited them with his two doting fathers.
Because of these frequent visits to the village to oversee its establishment and ensure the residents had everything they needed, the Sect Leader himself, Lan Xichen, began traveling down the mountain on a regular basis.
It was during these visits that Lan Xichen spent a significant amount of time with Wen Qing. At first, their interactions were purely professional, discussing medical supplies and village logistics. But over time, Xichen found himself profoundly captivated by Wen Qing’s fierce intelligence, her sharp wit, and her deep, unyielding devotion to her family. Wen Qing, in turn, found a rare, comforting solace in Xichen’s gentle nature, his profound kindness, and his unwavering support.
As the village flourished, so did their affection. The quiet warmth between them deepened into a profound, undeniable love. A year after the village was completed, the Cloud Recesses celebrated yet another joyous occasion as Lan Xichen and Wen Qing were happily married, completely uniting their paths and cementing a beautiful, peaceful future for everyone they loved.