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The boy Lan Wangji found in the hollow tree was smaller and even more badly nourished than he remembered – a two or three years old shouldn’t be able to fit himself into such a tiny space. But there he was, the only remaining survivor of the Wen clan, Wen Yuan.
Wangji was surprised that he made it, but it seemed like the little boy was sturdier than he looked.
“Xian-gege…” he whispered, sounding too rough for a child. He didn’t have enough wetness in his body to cry. “Xian-gege!”
A-Yuan fell out of the tree before Wangji could have moved to catch him and launched himself on his right leg, thin arms shaking from the surprising strength he held onto Wangji. His wounds on his back pulled as he leaned down to gently pry away his hands and take him in his arms. A-Yuan went willingly, his fingers digging into Wangji’s shoulders, right into the edges of his wounds. It flared up pain in his whole body, but he gritted his teeth to not show it. Somehow, he managed to get his water pouch and made A-Yuan drink.
“Rich-gege,” A-Yuan cried out as he recognized him. Wangji patted his back as reassurance; at least the boy remembered him.
“I’m bringing you home with me.”
“To Xian-gege?”
Wangji’s breath hitched. If A-Yuan knew…
“Rich-gege, where is Xian-gege?”
That was one thing that Wangji couldn’t answer. His control over his own body was already failing him due to the physical pain, and it was too much to deal with his emotions. Wei Ying was gone, forever gone, killed by someone who he loved so much. The tears he held back ever since he heard the news, now came, leaving his face wet, breathing quickening. A-Yuan cried with him as if he understood.
Wangji was here to look for Wei Ying’s boy, but he could see that everything in sight was destroyed. There was no point of searching more.
He didn’t answer any more of A-Yuan’s questions, getting on his sword. It was a long ride back to the Cloud Recesses, and he could feel that some of his wounds had already bled through the bandages and his clothes.
By the time he reached Gusu, A-Yuan’s tiny body way burning up from fever. Wangji tried to pass him spiritual energy, but A-Yuan was too young to accept it – he had to give up trying because he feared that he would do more harm than good. While he was so occupied with checking A-Yuan’s condition, he almost crashed into the trees, something that hadn’t happened to him since he first learned how to manoeuvre on the sword. He didn’t bother to go through the gates, heading straight for the jingshi. It was way past curfew and he was breaking the rules again.
He didn’t count anymore how many rules he had broken, all for Wei Ying.
And he was naïve to hope that his absence would go unnoticed, considering his condition.
“Wangji, where have you been?”
“Brother…” he started, but his throat tightened. Xichen brought the news of Wei Ying’s death, he should know where he went.
“He caused so much suffering to you, and you still went to look for him?” Xichen closed his eyes and shook his head. Wangji pressed together his lips, but as much as he tried to hold back, stubborn tears continued falling from his eyes.
His brother hadn’t seen him crying this much ever since their mother’s death.
His back hurt so much that he wasn’t able to hold A-Yuan any longer; Xichen caught him as he stumbled, noticing the dirty bundle he was holding only now.
“Who is that?”
“Brother, help,” Wangji whispered before he passed out of exhaustion. He missed how Xichen was calling him and how his grip was so tight on A-Yuan that he was hurting him into crying loudly. Xichen managed to pry A-Yuan away who was squirming in his arms despite of his fever, and decided to heal first and ask later, already coming up with a cover story to tell their uncle. If the child was who he thought then he wouldn’t have much future unless they lied.
When Wangji came to, it was late in the morning, and his wounds were tended to. His whole back was numb from herbs to take away his pain – something he rarely got since healing long and painfully was also part of the punishment. Just like the scars that would be left after them.
Xichen was sneaking in painkillers again, using that Wangji was unconscious to protest.
“You woke up,” Xichen spoke next to his bed.
“Brother…”
“I’m waiting for an explanation if you’re ready,” he said as he handed him a cup of tea. Wangji was so dehydrated that he drank greedily, in big gulps, water running down on his chin and wetting his clothes. As he looked around, he couldn’t see A-Yuan anywhere and it made him slightly panic.
“Where is A-Yuan?”
“I brought him to the healers. He has a bad fever and they can’t do much for him unless he fights it himself. If he can make it though the next couple of day, he will survive.”
Wangji sighed. He couldn’t do anything, it all was on A-Yuan if he was strong enough to fight for his life.
“Wangji… is he Wei Wuxian’s…”
Wangji shook his head. He couldn’t tell which name held more danger by now, Wen or Wei.
“Then he is a Wen.”
“I want to adopt him.”
“Wangji, think about your condition… raising a child is not an easy task and you’re wounded.”
“I am going to adopt him,” he said more firmly. Xichen sighed again. He had dealt with Wangji’s stubbornness enough lately to know that it was no use to tell him what was right and wrong if it was about the Yiling Patriarch. And he was tired of seeing his little brother hurt.
“I’ll make preparations then.”
“Thank you.”
Wangji tried to get up despite of feeling that his wounds would open, but Xichen pushed him down.
“Rest. I will tell you when A-Yuan wakes up. You can think about an explanation until then.”
Wangji didn’t have any strength to protest. He had done all he could for A-Yuan, a chance for living in the Lan sect. His only regret was that he couldn’t do this with Wei Ying; he should have tried more, he should have tried to find a loophole in the rules to save the rest of the Wen refugees because without them Wei Ying wouldn’t have left Burial Mounds…
He was crying again when Xichen left. He didn’t touch the food left for him – not like he could get up without his wounds opening. He laid there for three days, staring at the wall or at the table with his guqin. He didn’t speak when Xichen came to change his bandages and made him eat while he talked about the news of the cultivation world. That Jiang Wanyin was still looking for his brother with the help of Jin Guangyao, obsessed with the thought that he would crawl out of the abyss that his crafty tricks made him survive the siege. Wangji thought that Jiang Wanyin went mad the night his sister died, but he kept his mouth shut.
On the fourth day, Xichen brought the news of A-Yuan waking up and throwing a tantrum from the unknown place and new people, and it brought Wangji’s want to live back. With the help of Xichen, he got out of his bed to visit him. They went much slower than Wangji liked, but Xichen held him firmly as if he was afraid that Wangji would do something reckless.
They could hear A-Yuan bawling from afar. Entering the room, they saw two healers struggling with the screaming child; they were used to well-behaved Lan disciplines who stayed mostly silent even when they were hurt. A-Yuan struggled until his eyes met Wangji’s then he cried out for him.
“Rich-gege!”
Wangji tore himself from Xichen’s hold and rushed to the child. A-Yuan reached out for him and Wangji pulled him in his lap as he knelt down, not caring that his brother hissed at him to be careful with his wounds. Between his arms, A-Yuan went limp, his sobbing quieting down as he held onto the one person he knew. Wangji felt his forehead; he didn’t have a fever anymore.
“So he was asking for Hanguang-jun.”
“We tried to clean him properly now that he is better, but he started to scream as soon as he touched the water.”
“No need, I will take care of him,” Wangji said.
“You should concentrate on healing.”
Wangji ignored the remark, concentrating on A-Yuan with his whole being. As he cleaned his face with his sleeve, he saw that the feverish glimmering was gone from his eyes, and while still very pale, he looked as healthy as possible considering the circumstances.
He was mentally preparing for this meeting in the last few days, but he still didn’t know what to say if A-Yuan would ask for Wei Ying.
“Where did this child come from, Hanguang-jun?” one of the healers asked. After the war it wasn’t uncommon to adopt orphaned children into the sects, but they tried to keep a record of their heritage for later when they would get in marrying age. But telling that he was a Wen… that might be a death sentence.
“He is mine,” he said. He could feel the stares burning on his back; the righteous Hanguang-jun had an affair? They didn’t make a promise, but he hoped that Xichen would keep this secret of his. “Lan Yuan.”
The eyes staring at him softened. While most of the sect agreed with his punishment, the healers were mortified by the ruin that the discipline whips made of Wangji’s body. Wangji could imagine what some might think; they saw his tragic love story. Knowing that he loved the wrong person, he still courted her, the lack of time made them careless and they spent a passionate night together, leading to A-Yuan. It would be a reasonable explanation for anybody who knew him only on the surface. For the people who didn’t see the feelings he harboured for the Yiling Patriarch. It was indeed forbidden love just not the way people would think later.
After Wangji got some practical advices on how to take care of a child of A-Yuan’s age, Xichen helped him up to go back in the jingshi. In the last couple of days, he understood that Wangji really intended to take care of A-Yuan on his own even in his bedridden state.
Now that Wangji was there, A-Yuan was well-behaved and clung onto his hand with his tiny fingers diffing into his flesh as he looked around in the Cloud Recesses for the first time.
“I’ll bring him bath water and clothes,” Xichen said when they arrived to the jingshi.
A-Yuan’s eyes widened in panic. “I hate to bath!”
“You need to before dressing. White is easy to taint and do you want your clothes to be dirty as soon as you put them on?” Xichen said softly. A-Yuan stared at him then he shook his head slowly.
“Will I get pretty clothes like yours?”
“Yes,” and that was enough to make A-Yuan let himself wash even if displeasure and slight fear was clear on his face. Wangji had heard that his clan was bad in water since they didn’t have much of it where they were originally from. Being around water was one from many things that A-Yuan would need to get used to in the Cloud Recesses.
Xichen ended up helping A-Yuan to dress because Wangji felt his bandages bleeding through again. Now that he saw that Xichen wouldn’t hurt him, A-Yuan seemed excited seeing the new clothes, grabbing amazed at the fine fabric. He had probably never got his hands on something like this before.
“There you go, Lan Yuan,” Xichen said gently.
“Thank you Pretty-gege!” he said, hugging his leg. Wangji heard Wei Ying’s laughing voice in his head; A-Yuan does this only to people who he likes. Xichen seemed surprised, but he patted his head affectionately.
“Be good to your father, alright? He needs his rest now.”
“No need,” Wangji said, already seeing that his brother was setting up A-Yuan against him.
“Father, rest!” A-Yuan ordered, pushing him towards the bed. Wangji was so caught off guard that A-Yuan had an easy job to make him lay down. Then he laid next to him, grabbing all the blanket for himself.
“I’ll check on you later,” Xichen said before leaving.
Taking care of A-Yuan, Wangji soon noticed that he didn’t need to come up with lies about Wei Ying’s whereabouts; the fever had erased all of the memories of A-Yuan’s early years until he woke up in the Cloud Recesses. Only while having a nightmare would he call for him, not being able to tell later who was Xian-gege.
His dislike for water stayed though.