Chapter Text
A-Yuan is almost seven the first time he properly asks about the scars on Lan Wangji's back.
Lan Wangji hasn't been lying about their existence, but he has very much been hiding them. At first, a-Yuan was so sickly, and then he was still so young, and even now, Lan Wangji does not want to burden his son with his own mistakes.
"A-die?" a-Yuan asks as Lan Wangji helps him dry off. They were taking a bath; a-Yuan is growing independent in his own hygiene, which is good, but it also means that he wishes to assist whenever they bathe together, whether it's clumsily running oil through Lan Wangji's hair or by rinsing off his back.
"Yes?" Lan Wangji answers, already half-dreading the question. He can feel a-Yuan's fingers gently shift across his scars, thinking himself ready to ask something Lan Wangji never wants to tell him.
"What monster did you fight to get these?"
My own conscience, Lan Wangji thinks, even though it was finally doing what was right that led to the punishment.
"Those are not from a monster," Lan Wangji tells a-Yuan quietly. "They are from a mistake I made." He does not allow himself to hesitate in his words, but that does not mean he believes them. The true mistake was not standing with Wei Ying from the beginning, when so many terrible things could have been prevented.
"Oh." A-Yuan looks off into space, thinking very hard in the way Lan Wangji has learned is common of children. Lan Wangji takes the drying cloth from him and drops it onto a-Yuan's head, beginning to towel his hair. "What mistake makes snake marks?" He pokes his head out from under the cloth. "There's a lotta snakes that got mad at you, a-die."
Lan Wangji almost wants to laugh. "They are not from snakes either. Snakes leave bite marks, a-Yuan, like this." he turns slightly and gently uses his hand to make a pinching motion on a-Yuan's arm, not pushing down at all. "These marks are from a weapon, but not from an enemy. They are a reminder that I made a mistake." And that is the reason they remain, the reason he remains here. Despite the reason for the punishment being one he does not believe in anymore, he is still deserving of a punishment.
A-Yuan giggles at the not-bites, then blinks up at him with big eyes. "If I make a mistake, will I get marks like yours?"
A wave of revulsion at the idea flows through Lan Wangji, followed by rage. He will never allow that to happen, for someone to misunderstand a-Yuan like that, to hurt him purposefully.
But isn't that exactly what he is raising a-Yuan to do? To follow the rules blindly as Lan Wangji himself did, and suffer the punishments of those who think they know more because they have their code written in stone?
He has seen his brother punished, on occasion. It had not been permitted for him to step in, and he had been a child, unable to push through the hold of those bigger than him.
Now? Now he will watch Cloud Recesses burn again before he allows someone to take a whip to his son.
But he cannot say that. A-Yuan must feel safe here, must not even think this could happen to him.
Even though it could.
Do not lie, the Lan rules tell him, and Lan Wangji hisses back, you are what caused this in the first place.
He has remained silent for too long. When he focuses again on his son, a-Yuan is watching him with the careful gaze of a child who has seen adults shift moods quickly. "…Is matching you bad, a-die?" he whispers, as if afraid Lan Wangji will suddenly snap, despite how that has never happened before.
(A-Yuan may not remember anything from before his time at Cloud Recesses, but that does not mean his experiences have not left their own scars on him.)
"These hurt, when I got them," Lan Wangji tells him, matching his son's quiet voice. Mourning for the boy who never had someone say this to him. Mourning himself. "I do not want you to be hurt."
Nodding seriously–and far too solemnly–for his age, a-Yuan says, "I don't want you hurt too, a-die." He bites his lip and looks down, foot scuffing against the floor. "I'll be good. I'll do good so I don't make mistakes and get hurt, okay?"
"You should not be hurt for mistakes." It's a true statement, and yet…
Tilting his head to the side, a-Yuan asks, "Then why were you?"
What can he say? He cannot explain this to a child, to a child he is trying to help feel safe.
"Because I did not have anyone to protect me," he finally decides on saying. "But you do. I will protect you."
A-Yuan looks at him, his small hand wrapping around Lan Wangji's. He's undergrown, was underweight for too long, and he's still catching up–he can only wrap his hand fully around three of Lan Wangji's fingers. "Are you sure? 'Cause–'cause b'fore…" he trails off, looking at their joined hands.
Even without distinct memories, a-Yuan clearly remembers his guardians leaving him, in one way or another.
"If someone tries to hurt you," Lan Wangji tells a-Yuan, possibly the most important thing he has told him yet, "come to me. I do not care who they are, I will stop them."
And he will, even if it is his uncle himself who attempts to punish a-Yuan. If someone tries to hurt his son, Lan Wangji will pick a-Yuan up and fly right out of Cloud Recesses forever and not look back.
"Okay, a-die," a-Yuan replies. "I will."
It's the best he can hope for, that a-Yuan believes him.
"A-die," a-Yuan whispers a few months later. They're in the library, Lan Wangji to research for an upcoming night hunt and a-Yuan to practice his reading. His son has taken the 'soft voices in the library' rule seriously ever since he learned it, and now consistently whispers whenever they cross the threshold. Even if that whisper is, as is the nature of children, loud enough to be equal to a normal speaking voice.
"Yes, a-Yuan?" Lan Wangji responds, in a slightly quieter whisper. He hopes a-Yuan will follow his example, but if he does not, Lan Wangji can simply remind him.
"Why was the man hitted by sticks?" a-Yuan asks at an infinitesimally smaller volume.
Ah. They had walked past a disciple receiving punishment on their way to the library. Lan Wangji had taken notice of it, but only to gently tug a-Yuan tighter against his side.
The punishment was expected, even to the disciple. Normal. Something he had agreed to when he joined the clan, or been born into. It's likely that no one had ever told him that they would protect him.
After all, who could? This is just the Lan way.
(Lan Wangji has been thinking ever since a-Yuan asked about his scars. He lies awake at night, hearing his son's voice say Will I get marks like yours? on repeat in his head. In all the time he's had a-Yuan here, in all of his plans for the future, his mental images of how a-Yuan will grow up and the kind of man he will grow up into, he never thought of punishments.
Not until now. Not until his son looked at the physical proof of pain and asked Then why did you?)
"He was receiving punishment for breaking a rule," Lan Wangji says, and all he can see is little a-Yuan, kneeling before the pavilion. A-Yuan crying out in pain, a-Yuan sobbing.
A-Yuan, failed utterly by his father.
"Oh." A-Yuan messes with the page of his book, fiddling it not quite enough to tear it. "Was it a big rule? It looked like it hurt a lot, so it was a big break?"
Lan Wangji nods, even though he didn't personally hear the reason. "It was."
He cannot stop thinking about a-Yuan in that position. If a-Yuan tried to tell him, to run for help, and was held down. Beaten.
If that happened, Lan Wangji would have failed him in so many ways. Not only him, but Wei Ying, Wen Qing and Wen Ning, and all of his family now dead.
Abruptly, Lan Wangji notices that his hands are shaking. It's very faint, but his control over his body is excellent, as a cultivator.
Or, it is supposed to be.
He cannot do this, he realizes. It is sudden, but not in the way of a flash of lightning. This decision comes upon him like the encroaching night, when darkness creeps ever closer and thicker, so slowly and subtly that you do not register the sun has set until suddenly you blink and realize you cannot see.
He cannot make a-Yuan do this. He cannot risk him.
"Do they have smaller sticks for smaller rules? Or is it like when I forget and talk during eating and you go shhh?" A-Yuan kicks his feet a little. He is a fidgety child, now that he eats enough to have energy. "Or when I patted the bunny too hard so you made me sit on my hands for the rest of the bunny time?"
"Smaller rules are punished in different ways," Lan Wangji says, hands automatically starting to roll up his scroll and put it away. "Sometimes with copying rules, or working. A-Yuan, we are going to dinner early. Are you hungry?" There's the beginning of a plan in his mind. Well, less a plan and more instinct to flee, to protect.
"Mn!" his son says, always enthusiastic about meals, and gently closes his book. He sets it on the table in front of where he was sitting, giving it a pat on the cover, before he remembers that he needs to give the book to Lan Wangji. "Here, a-die. What's for dinner tonight?"
"Baozi," Lan Wangji tells him absently. Something that can be eaten on the road. He puts a-Yuan's book away, too, then leads his son out of the library. "First, we will go back to the Jingshi."
A-Yuan tosses his hands in the air. "Yay! Baozi! Baozi!" he cheers, then stops with an "Oops!" and a clap of his hands over his mouth, looking up nervously at Lan Wangji.
Restrain your joy, Lan Wangji thinks, picturing the inscribed rule clearly in his mind.
Instead of speaking it, he gives a-Yuan a small smile. "Quieter until we are in the Jingshi, a-Yuan. But yes, very exciting."
Dropping his hands, Lan Wangji is relieved to see a-Yuan smile. His son reaches out and grabs Lan Wangji's free hand in both of his own, swinging it as they walk. "Baozi, baozi," he whispers in time with their steps, properly quiet this time.
"We are going on a trip," Lan Wangji announces, "to visit-" hopefully Jiang Wanyin will not kill him for this, "-your uncle. He lives by a lake full of lotus plants."
And he does not whip his disciples, Lan Wangji thinks to himself.
"I like lotus plants," a-Yuan tells him very seriously, but this time in the manner of children imparting what they believe is an important fact. "They're yummy. Will uncle let me eat lotus seeds?"
"Definitely," Lan Wangji confirms, gathering up Bichen and a few personal items. "What do you want to take with you, a-Yuan?"
Quietly, Lan Wangji mourns the loss of the drawing Wei Ying made of him, burnt alongside Cloud Recesses. Lost along with Wei Ying.
"Mister Radish!" a-Yuan answers, skipping (not running) into his room and retrieving the stuffed rabbit he sleeps with at night. "He hasn't had lotus before. It's very important that he gets to try it."
"Mn." Lan Wangji hums in agreement, leaving behind his scrolls and books with only half a glance, but taking his sheet music. His guqin he wraps carefully to protect from weather damage.
Almost absently, Lan Wangji adds a few elegant statuettes that his mother had accumulated and no one had thought to get rid of. Simple enough to not look out of place in a Lan household, but rare enough to be traded for essentials, at least once they arrive.
He packs up a few sets of spare robes for a-Yuan, and spares a silent apology for the rabbits, who would not do well on the flight to Yunmeng. Lan Jingyi's family is aware of their existence, and will not let them starve.
Finally, Lan Wangji picks up inkstone, brush, and paper, and leaves a note.
I cannot let you hurt him as you have me. We will not return to a place where my son's safety cannot be guaranteed, even from his own clan members.
Shufu, I apologize for disappointing you once again.
Xiongzhang, I will miss you. Feel free to visit.
He cannot leave his forehead ribbon on the table. It would cause a stir to be seen leaving without it, and he does not have the time to explain it to a-Yuan, so it stays on for now.
Taking it off feels wrong on a visceral level. But then, so does his son being purposefully injured. Lan Wangji will sacrifice a ribbon any day. Much more, if he must.
A-Yuan does not have the same attachment to his ribbon. His son isn't quite used to the feeling of it, even after three years of wearing one, and often times tries to 'sneak it off.' Lan Wangji has never felt so guiltily relieved to leave it lying on the table.
Taking what little they cannot live without, they leave the walls and wards of Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji carries his supplies in his qiankun bag and on his back, and holds his son close in his arms, on the front of his sword.
He does not intend to return.