Work Text:
Lan Yuan, curtesy name Sizhui, had grown up with stories about his earliest years instead of memories, told by his father, Lan Zhan, curtesy name Wangji. They didn’t reach back too far, but he told him what he knew.
By the age of 16, Lan Sizhui knew the following for certain:
He had been born as Wen Yuan to parents his father had never met. After the Sunshot Campaign and the End of the war he, and what was left of his branch of the Wen Clan, had been brought to labour camps until they had been freed. Then he, his grandmother, his aunts and uncles as well as Wen Qing and the undead Wen Ning had lived in the Burial Mounds, protected by the Yiling Laozu who was also his baba, Wei Ying, curtesy name Wuxian.
From those years he didn’t have any memories. According to his father, he had suffered a high fever when he found him in a hollowed-out tree and that – combined with the recent trauma – had buried his memories.
What he had regained through the years were mostly impressions. Sometimes certain smells or tastes would feel familiar or a sentence during a lecture on talismans and arrays would make him freeze for just a moment and he’d hear another voice overlap that of his teacher.
Sometimes he would add a little stroke to a talisman here and there for seemingly no reason, and when they yielded better results than the ones of the others, Shifu would nod at him approvingly. When he told his father about these things while they were sitting together, he would look up and in his eyes Sizhui would see a glimmer of pride. Then his father would always say the same thing. “Your baba would be proud”.
He also knew that his father loved his baba very much. That had never been up for debate, but they had never found to each other. The war and the politics after, along with his baba’s reputation had always been in the way.
Once, when he was still living with his father in the Jingshi he had once overheard a conversation between his father and his uncle, Lan Xichen. It was a conversation the 10-year-old would never forget.
“The Elders are still considering the proposal from the Jin, Wangji.”
“Tell them no.”
“They won’t listen to this for much longer. Not without a good reason.”
“…”
“Wangji…” came a quiet sigh.
“Tell them I lost my partner in the Nightless City.”
“Hm? You never told me- are you talking about-“
“Hm.”
“Alright.”
The next morning little Yuan had looked at his father.
“But baba died in Yiling.”
“Hm. But I think he lost himself when his Shijie died. And so, he was also lost to me.” And as his father always did when they were talking about Yuan’s baba, he looked wistful. Not that anyone but Yuan (and maybe his uncle or his baba) could tell.
Growing up, A-Yuan didn’t have many friends. Most children were too intimidated, given he was Hanguang-jun’s son. There was only one little Lan-Disciple who never cared about who Yuan’s father was. Or more like, he cared more about playing with his new friend than caring about his friends’ parent. They often ended their days playing with the rabbits behind the Jingshi, both buried beneath a mountain of fur.
“I can’t believe your father has so many bunnies”, Jingyi said one day when they were 12, petting one of the new baby bunnies.
“Hmm,” Sizhui hummed and put one of the bigger bunnies on Jingyi’s head, “he said my baba once brought two male ones into the recess and just gave them to him. But the clan rules forbid pets, so he put them here. And when he thought they got too lonely he found two female bunnies. Then there were baby bunnies. When Granduncle found out, they could not send them away because this was their home.”
Jingyi sat still listening to the story, mostly so the bunny on his head wouldn’t be disturbed or fell off his head and got hurt.
“Sizhui, can you take the bunny down?”
The boy giggled, “No. This is the only way to make you sit still.”
“Rude…” Jingyi pat the bunny’s butt before continuing, “I still can’t see Hanguang-jun sitting down and telling you whole stories about your Baba like that.”
“Why not?” A voice sounded from behind them and both boys froze.
“Hanguang-jun. I-“ Jingyi tried to twist around and stand up, before remembering the bunny that was still sitting on his head. “I- I’m sorry, Hanguang-jun.”
“It’s alright. Relax before you or the little one gets hurt.” Lan Wangji said before coming around them and gracefully sat down with them, setting his guqin next to them, carefully removing the now squirming bunny from Jingyi’s head.
Jingyi immediately made to bow but Lan Wangji stopped him.
“It’s just- you usually don’t talk much Hanguang-jun. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Hm. I’m aware.”
“But did Sizhui’s baba really just give you two bunnies? What did he expect you to do with them?”
Sizhui looked at his father, who looked wholly relaxed sitting here with him and his best friend.
“Hm. He just wanted to tease me with them. But he gave them to me. So, they were precious.”
Jingyi smiled.
“That doesn’t sound like something the Yiling Laozu would do. Say, Hanguang-jun. What was he really like?”
Lan Wangji tilted his head to the side and petting one finger over the bunny’s head.
“Annoying. At first. He always broke the rules, no matter how often he had to transcribe them. But he was talented. And he knew it. Never bragged, thought. He liked helping.
“Brother thought he just wanted my attention.”
“People say you hated him and always tried to bring him back here to imprison him, or take away his sorcery.”
Lan Wangji shook his head, “Never. Wanted to keep him safe here. I was scared for him, never of him. He never wanted to cause harm, but things went wrong or got out of hand. He was blamed for many things he did not cause.”
“Because everyone else was afraid of him?” Jingyi frowned at the small bunny in his lap. Lan Wangji hummed in agreement.
“Well. If Hanguang-jun says so, then I am not afraid of him either. Plus, he Sizhui’s Baba. He really can’t be that bad. Sizhui is the best, after all.” Jingyi grinned widely at his best friend who had quietly listened to what his father had told them. Things he had already known, but also things he could never hear enough. They spend the rest of the afternoon until the dinner bell tolled there, listening to Lan Wangji play his guqin.
The problems Mo Village was facing seemed easy enough that Zewu-Jun decided to only send Sizhui and Lan Jingyi out. During their preparation, Jingyi had pushed the talisman paper into Sizhui’s hands and steered him as far from the flags he was painting as possible.
“I don’t want to attract the dead from 5 towns over too. You make the protection talismans.”
Sizhui chuckled and didn’t fight his friend.
And until they talked to the Lady of the Village, Miss Mo, everything had been ordinary. Until her son had stormed in, complaining someone he called a “raging lunatic”.
When said man barged into the room as well, he was ranting about his cousin stealing his things. Sizhui was slightly amused by the antics of the man but also had the feeling that he was not as mad or lunatic as he was acting. He saw a little too calculated glimmer in his eyes, while the man was hiding behind Sizhui.
His intuition turned out to be correct when they encountered him while they were setting up the spirit luring flags Jingyi had made and placed the protective talismans around the courtyard.
“You shouldn’t be here” Sizhui heard Jingyi say from the rooftops. He looked up and could see Mo Xuanyu move quickly, grabbing one of their flags before landing in the middle of the courtyard.
Jingyi was yelling at the man for stealing the flag, but Sizhui’s gaze was mostly drawn to the way the man studied the lines and the fabric, muttering to himself. He made his way over to them, already knowing he had to hold Jingyi back before the situation escalated.
“Let it go, Jingyi.” Then he turned to Mo Xuanyu, “Mo-gongzi. We need to start capturing corpses soon. It’s dangerous, so you best hurry back to your chambers. And could we get the flag back? As you see we need them to complete the array.”
The man looked up from where he was still crouching at his and grinned.
“These flags are adequate, but whoever made them lacks experience. Unlike the talismans. I would almost say they’ve been made by a master if not for negligible mistakes.”
“Yeah well. Obviously the talismans are well done. Sizhui made them himself and Teacher said they might be almost en-par with those of the Yiling Laozu.” Jingyi huffed and Mo Yianyu’s grin turned into a smirk.
“Yeah? And let me guess, you made those flags.”
“Tsk. And what if. I am not a prodigy like Sizhui.”
“Don’t get yourself down kid. Pretty sure even the Yiling Laozu had to put in some practise.” Mo Xuanyu stood from his crouch and put his hand on Jingyi’s head when passing him, then threw the flag at them before leaving the courtyard.
“Weirdo.” Jingyi grumbled, straightening his hair where Mo Xuanyu had ruffled it.
“Just leave him. We should focus on finishing up the array before it gets too late.”
During the whole fight, something always drew his gaze to Mo Xuanyu. At first Sizhui thought it might be the way the man always switched between his lunatic and erratic behaviour and being actually helpful (even if that included pushing Jingyi between Sizhui and the demonic arm). But it was when Mo Ziyuan and the Servant A-ton were animated Sizhui looked at Mo Xuanyu stunned. The other was fully focused on the fight.
This was not the first time he encountered a demonic cultivator.
This was the first time something about the powers felt – familiar.
Then the corpses lost the fight and his father arrived.
He lost track of Mo Xuanyu.
Jingyi and him both decided to keep Mo Xuanyu’s behavor and involvement quiet, at least for now. Not long after Hanguang-jun hat arrived, more Lan-Disciples had shown up to help with the clean-up for the night. The arm had disappeared. Hanguang-jun bid them both to come with him and together they made their way toward Dafan-Mountain.
He was still staring at the form of the Ghost General – Wen Ning, his gege Wen Ning – when he heard a series of tones played on the bamboo dizi.
“Wangxian” the name escapes him in a breath. The tones brought back too many memories. His first injury after a night hunt when his father was done playing healing and he played Sizhui to sleep. The last night in the Jingshi before moving into his own rooms.
So many nights after nightmares had woken him through the years.
The sounds of a dizi. The hard stone beneath a small, way too thin body. The legs cushioning his head. The presence of their protector the only thing keeping the cold and the nightmares away.
“Father, did you ever play this for baba?”
“Hm”
“Anyone else?”
“You”
The sound stopped for a bit and when he turned, he saw his father behind Mo Xuanyu – was it really him though? – staring at the man who had stopped playing, probably after Lan Wangji had grabbed his hand. Sizhui took a step forward. Between him and his parents – because it had to be – stood only Wen Ning.
His baba unfroze and managed to tear his arm from his father’s grasp enough to play his dizi again and Wen Ning left. The other cultivators except for him and Jingyi ran after him. Jingyi came up to Sizhui.
“Are you alright?”
But he didn’t hear him.
His parents also stayed frozen where they had been. Looking at each other, wide-eyed.
At some point, Sect Leader Jiang showed up. He hates your baba a voice in his head said you should keep an eye on him.
Sizhui drew his sword because if that man really was his baba, then he wouldn’t let anyone, especially Sect Leader Jiang, take him away.
One of the Jiang disciples pointed at his parents.
“This one summoned Wen Ning.”
Next to him, Sizhui heard Jingyi draw his sword as well while saying lowly, “I don’t know what’s going on and what you and Hanguang-jun have to do with this Mo Guy, but I got your back.”
Sizhui relaxed but his eyes stayed fixed on Sect Leader Jiang who now held Zidian tight in his hand, brandishing it. Before Sizhui could move, his father had brought out his guqin and deflected the first strike of the lightning whip. His baba, instead of staying safe where he was, made a break for it, turning towards the donkey, that stood close to where Sizhui and Jingyi were.
That’s when the whip collided with his baba, making him stumble and fall to the ground. Sizhui held his breath. If his baba was possessing Mo Xuanyu, this attack would split them apart.
He could not leave yet. Not again. Sizhui knew it would break his father, if there was a chance this could be his baba and he lost him again.
But instead of the exorcism taking place in front of them, the body on the ground slowly dragged himself up, whining.
Sizhui and Jingyi scrambled to the fallen man, helping him straightening out.
“Shame on you,” he said while he held onto Jingyi’s shoulder, “even if you’re a clan leader. What gives you the right to whip me?”
Sect Leader Jiang held up the whip again, glaring, single focus on the man between Sizhui and Jingyi.
“Impossible. Why didn’t it work? Not matter. I’ll find out eventually. Wei Wuxian.”
“That’s enough, Sect Leader Jiang. You yourself should know best, how Zidian works. If it doesn’t work the first time, it’s not going to.” Jingyi called out, while Sizhui looked over to his father. Their eyes met and Sizhui saw the same hope in them that he felt in his bones.
Another Jiang Disciple helped Jin Ling over to his uncle, while he talked about Mo Xuanyu.
“He’s a cutsleeve who was kicked out of the Sect by our Sect Leader. He is a madman who runs towards trouble with a smile, as long as it catches his interest.”
Voices of other Disciples spoke of Wei Wuxian, who he supposedly had been, and how Mo Xuanyu is a mad man, kicked out of his sect for his feelings towards his half-brother.
When Sect Leader Jiang turned around and ordered his sect members to bring Mo Xuanyu along to Lotus Pier, Jingyi and Sizhui stepped forward and with measured steps, his father came to a stop between the Jiang Clan and them.
They will bring his baba home, he knew. Because now that they knew he was here, he was back, however that happened, they wouldn’t let him go that easily.
Would his baba want to come with them to Gusu though?
More importantly, would he want stay with you, little A-Yuan?
He felt a tug on his robes, and saw the last of the Jiang clan, along with Jin Ling, retreat. Silence fell over them, only broken by the fires that were still eating at the wood.
“Well,” his baba said behind them, “that was nice and all. Thanks for standing up for me. Me and little Apple will-”
That’s what broke out Sizhui of the state he had fallen into ever since he heard the dizi play Wangxian.
“Don’t go-“ he turned, grasping the dark sleeves tight in his hands. His voice tight.
“Wha-“
“Sizhui? Is he-?” Jingyi asked him calmly.
A hand came to rest on his head, “A-Yuan”, his father said in a calming tone and just for a moment, less than a second, his baba’s eyes flashed in something that could indeed be recognition, before they turned blank, “it’s okay.”
But Sizhui shook his head. He knew his baba remembered him.
“No. You can’t go.”
“I- I don’t…” his baba tried to step back further, but Lan Yuan’s desperate grip tightened. Pulled him back.
“Baba you can’t go. We just got you back.” Lan Yuan didn’t feel the tears running down his cheeks. Next to him, Jingyi took a step to the side, giving Sizhui and his parents some space.
Soundless the word baba formed on Wei Wuxian’s lips. His eyes, in a panic flicked between the three Lan’s in front of him.
“I-“
“Wei Ying.”
The quiet call of the name. The hand now on Lan Yuan’s neck, a steady support for his son’s fried nerves.
“Lan Zhan.” Barely a sound, “Wen Yuan.”
“Baba.” It comes out in a sob, “Xian-gege”
Then, four things happened in accord.
Lan Yuan pulled at his baba’s sleeve, burying his face in a shoulder that is not quite like it should be, but it’s safe
Wei Ying wrapped his arms around the body of the once so small boy, now so grown up but still so willing to fall into the arms belonging to a man who spread terror and fear wherever he went
Lan Wangji stumbled a few steps forward toward Wei Ying and Lan Yuan. He wrapped one hand around Wei Ying’s arm, the other started running soothingly over the back of his shaking son. He ignored that on his back he could feel the impression a pair of hands left behind.
Jingyi turned away from them, taking a few steps back from the small family’s reunion and he will forever claim he had nothing to do with Hanguang-jun’s stumble.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Yuan heard his father whisper.
“Lan Zhan. Is this really…”
“I found him in a tree. Couldn’t leave him there. He was all that was left of Wei Ying. And Wei Ying loved him, so I already did too.”
Lan Yuan tightened is arms around is baba and one hand started carding through his hair while soft shushing noises came from the man in front of him.
“It’s okay, A-Yuan. I’m here now.
“Baba is here. I’m not going anywhere.”