Chapter Text
Lan Qiren is not fond of politics. In his youth, he had always been relieved that his elder brother would become sect leader one day, so he could remain a teacher and focus on educating young cultivators. It was upsetting in more ways than one when Qingheng-Jun went into seclusion and Lan Qiren was forced to take his place. The intricacies of politics have always felt beyond Lan Qiren’s abilities to navigate, but over the years, he’s tried to do what he can for the sake of the sect.
Lan Xichen was officially named sect leader at age twenty, but that was just one year ago – he’s still relatively new at the position, so Lan Qiren provides as much guidance as he can while also giving his nephew the autonomy to develop into a leader in his own right. The fact is, making political moves has never been Lan Qiren’s strong suit, but when required to, he does what he must. He’s always tried to provide a good example for Lan Xichen to follow, and the deliberate choices he’s made regarding Wei Ying’s naming ceremony are, in fact, nothing but political.
The sect precepts dictate that only direct descendents of the Lan bloodline typically receive a separate naming ceremony. All other inner disciples, who receive their forehead ribbons along with their courtesy names and spiritual swords, have a joint naming ceremony in the spring in the year of their fifteenth birthday. By these standards, Wei Ying should have received his headband and courtesy name several months ago, just after Lan Zhan – now Lan Wangji – had his own naming ceremony in the winter. However, Lan Qiren makes a calculated decision and has Lan Xichen send out word to all the sects that Wei Ying’s naming ceremony will take place in autumn, on his fifteenth birthday, instead.
It is, above all else, a message – it is Lan Qiren unequivocally declaring that Wei Ying must be recognized as not just an inner Lan disciple, but equal in every way to a member of the Lan family itself. Lan Qiren knows that the majority of the gentry – despite the tales of Wei Ying’s talent that have already started to spread throughout the cultivation world – still thinks of Wei Ying only as the son of a servant, an orphan who was generously taken in by the Lans. He refuses to give any validity to that claim. It is a disrespect to Wei Ying, who has been regarded by everyone in the Cloud Recesses as nothing less than a Lan himself for the past ten years.
The evening before Wei Ying’s naming ceremony, Lan Qiren calls Wei Ying to his quarters. It is traditional for a child to have their hair washed and combed by their parents on the eve of the naming ceremony. Having no children of his own, Lan Qiren had never imagined he would end up performing this duty not just once, but three times – yet it has been the greatest honor of his life to have been able to do so for the three young men he has raised essentially single-handedly.
Wei Ying is uncharacteristically quiet throughout the process, but Lan Qiren doesn’t press. He knows Wei Ying is nervous about the implications of having his own naming ceremony, but he stands by his decision. Wei Ying deserves the respect of the entire world, and this will make the statement necessary to ensure that he receives it.
“A-Ying,” Lan Qiren says gently as he combs out the last of the tangles in Wei Ying’s hair. He tries not to think about how this will be one of the last conversations between them where it is appropriate for him to address Wei Ying this way. “Did you know that your parents had already chosen a courtesy name for you before they passed?”
Wei Ying remains seated on the floor but turns to face him, his eyes lighting up the way they always do when his parents are mentioned. “I didn’t know that,” he says, slightly awed. “They told you what it was?”
“They did,” Lan Qiren says. “The name they chose is Wuxian.”
“Wuxian. Wei Wuxian,” Wei Ying says, testing out the name. A smile blossoms on his face. “Does it suit me, Uncle Lan?”
“I cannot think of a more fitting owner for the name,” Lan Qiren says truthfully. A boy like Wei Ying – gifted as he is, and yet still so unfailingly kind – can and should live without envy. “Your parents would be very proud of the man you are becoming, A-Ying.”
Wei Ying’s expression turns vulnerable. “Would they?” he asks. Lan Qiren thinks of the small five-year-old boy he brought home, who broke down into tears when the disciples returned to the Cloud Recesses with confirmation that his parents were indeed gone forever, who Lan Xichen held in his arms to comfort him as he slept, who clung tightly to Lan Wangji’s hand at the private memorial ceremony they held in his parents’ honor. Since then, Wei Ying has flourished in the Cloud Recesses and the Lan sect has surely benefited from his presence, but Lan Qiren is always acutely aware of the loss that brought Wei Ying to them in the first place.
“You are aware that I knew them quite well,” Lan Qiren says. Wei Ying nods, surely remembering all the times Lan Qiren has shared stories about his parents over the years. “I am certain they would be in awe of their son.”
“Can you tell me something new about them?” Wei Ying asks. “Please?” He doesn’t request this often, but Lan Qiren is always happy to indulge him when he does – despite the mischief that the pair tended to cause, Lan Qiren’s memories of Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren are nothing but fond.
“They were good, brilliant people,” Lan Qiren says. “I’ve told you before that your mother was a nuisance at times, but it was, admittedly, part of her charm. And your father...truthfully, I considered him to be one of my closest companions.” This is, in fact, an understatement – Lan Qiren has never told Wei Ying how deep their friendship truly was, but Wei Changze was the only person Lan Qiren ever considered entering a sworn brotherhood with, even after Wei Changze left behind his Jiang affiliation when he married Cangse Sanren.
“You were that close?” Wei Ying asks, looking surprised. “I thought – I thought Uncle Jiang and Baba were the closest.”
Lan Qiren sighs. “Jiang Fengmian and Wei Changze’s relationship was...complicated. Your father was Jiang Fengmian’s right-hand man, his best friend – but nonetheless, still a servant in the eyes of the cultivation world.”
Wei Ying cocks his head curiously. “But didn’t he study at the Cloud Recesses with you and Mama?”
“He did accompany Jiang Fengmian here for the lectures, the same year your mother attended,” Lan Qiren says. “However, he did so not as a disciple, but as a servant. He was not invited to sit in on the lectures. Still, he was a resourceful man, and he found ways to learn.”
“He broke the rules?” Wei Ying gasps. “I thought only Mama did that.”
Lan Qiren lets out an amused huff. “Your mother was a different story altogether. But your father only did what he was required to, if he was to get anything out of being in the Cloud Recesses. Jiang Fengmian thought he was helping by bringing his friend along, so he wouldn’t be left alone at Lotus Pier. But it was unfair to your father, who had to watch all the other disciples attend lectures while he could not.”
Wei Ying looks riveted, drinking in the new information eagerly. “So what did he do instead?”
“He spent hours in the Library Pavilion teaching himself, while the other disciples were in the lectures,” Lan Qiren says. “I found him there every time I went to study. Eventually, I realized his situation and began teaching him what I could myself. Your mother did the same, once she learned his story.”
“Wait, so...so that’s how they met?” Wei Ying asks, his eyes bright.
“It is,” Lan Qiren says, smiling affectionately. “I believe your father appreciated my textbook approach to our lessons, but I admit that your mother’s hands-on approach may have been both more effective and more appealing.”
“My parents fell in love in the same Library Pavilion where Lan Zhan and I study together,” Wei Ying says a little dreamily. “Do you think I’ll have the same luck, Uncle Lan?”
Lan Qiren is less surprised than he thought he would be to hear that Wei Ying is already thinking about his potential romantic life. In fact, if he’s being honest, he can easily guess who has caught Wei Ying’s eye, because like his mother before him, Wei Ying is hardly subtle. He is still fairly young, though, so Lan Qiren will wait to see what happens in a few years before probing any further.
“I believe some day, you will,” Lan Qiren says. He reaches out to smooth Wei Ying’s hair one final time. “There is one more thing left for us to discuss before tomorrow, A-Ying.”
Wei Ying nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “My ribbon.”
Lan Qiren inclines his head. “I would be honored to tie your ribbon.” He hesitates. “However, I am not your family by blood, and it is entirely within your rights to tie it yourself, if you choose to.”
“Obviously I want you to do it, Uncle Lan!” Wei Ying says immediately. “You’re my family! You and Xiongzhang and Lan Zhan all are.” He looks up at Lan Qiren with wide eyes. “I think Mama and Baba would understand too. I think they would be okay with it.”
“If that is what you wish, then of course I will,” Lan Qiren says, trying to sound like he isn’t suddenly overcome with emotion – his eyes feel slightly wet and his throat is tight. “And you are right. The most important thing, A-Ying, is that above all else, your parents would have wanted you to be happy. I hope this is true for you.”
“I am,” Wei Ying says, smiling reassuringly. “Of course I’m happy here, Uncle Lan! I have Lan Zhan and Xiongzhang and you. I know excessive emotion is forbidden, but I don’t think I could be happier.”
Lan Qiren smiles. “Excessive emotion is permitted when it is justified,” he says, and Wei Ying beams at him.
“Is being out past curfew when a disciple is spending time with his favorite uncle permitted too?” Wei Ying asks cheekily.
“A-Ying,” Lan Qiren chides, carefully concealing his amusement as he shakes his head. He thinks Wei Ying must see the hint of humor in his eyes anyway, because Wei Ying’s smile only grows.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he says. “Well, not about the favorite uncle part! But I’ll go back to the Jingshi now. I’m sure Lan Zhan must be all ready for bed, wondering why I haven’t returned yet.”
“Indeed,” Lan Qiren says with a nod. “Good night, Wei Ying. I will see you tomorrow.”
Wei Ying bows his head, still smiling, and Lan Qiren lets himself pat Wei Ying’s head once, the way he used to when Wei Ying’s head only came up to his waist. “Good night, Uncle Lan!” Wei Ying calls, and then he’s out the door after waving one last time to Lan Qiren.
Lan Qiren stands in the doorway, watching him wander back to the Jingshi and wondering where the time has gone. The little boy he found in Yiling has grown into a bright, intelligent, and kind young man.
“Changze,” he says softly to the empty air. “Cangse. I have done my best to raise A-Ying into a man you would be proud of. I hope you are happy and at peace.” He receives no reply, of course, but for a moment, he thinks he can almost hear the familiar twinkling laughter of Cangse Sanren in the wind and the accompanying melody of the dizi, like Wei Changze is playing along.
~~~
The morning of Wei Ying’s naming ceremony is unusually cloudless and sunny, the air crisp and cool as Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen stand in the main hall, overseeing the setup for the ceremony. Wei Ying and Lan Wangji arrive from the Jingshi just as the final preparations are being made, Wei Ying with a wide smile on his face and Lan Wangji with his expression as calm as always. Lan Qiren watches them walk towards him side by side, the two best disciples the Lans – and indeed, the entire cultivation world – have seen in generations, and feels inexpressibly proud to have had a hand in raising them.
“It’s time for me to name my spiritual sword!” Wei Ying says excitedly as he and Lan Wangji come to a halt in front of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen. “I’ve been thinking of names all morning, right, Lan Zhan?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirms with a brief inclination of his head. “Wei Ying has already thought of twenty names.”
“So many?” Lan Xichen asks with a smile. “It seems that you might have trouble picking just one, A-Ying.”
“I’ll be able to choose the right one when I see the sword,” Wei Ying says confidently. “The same way Lan Zhan did for his!” Lan Qiren has no doubt this is true – Wei Ying has a way of having the correct answer come to him, whether it be in class or when he’s working on creating talismans, so it isn’t a stretch to believe the same would be true for the name of his sword.
“Come, A-Ying,” Lan Qiren says. “The ceremony will begin soon.”
Wei Ying grins. “Of course, Uncle Lan. Imagine the scandal if we started the ceremony and I hadn’t even received my spiritual sword yet!”
“Yes, that would be quite a shame,” Lan Xichen says, looking amused. “But fortunately, it is also easily avoidable.” He gestures for Wei Ying to lead the way to the Hanshi with a smile, where Wei Ying’s sword is waiting.
Wei Ying, as always, keeps Lan Wangji close to him as they walk, clinging to his arm the whole way. Lan Xichen is watching them with warmth in his eyes, and Lan Qiren can only observe the three of them in fond resignation – he is content to wait a bit longer, but he knows Lan Xichen is eagerly anticipating the day Wei Ying and Lan Wangji act upon the deep affection that exists between them.
In the Hanshi, they exchange bows with the man who has forged every spiritual sword belonging to the living members of the Lan clan before he presents Wei Ying with a beautiful sword sheathed in an intricately-designed scabbard. Wei Ying lets out a soft gasp, his eyes alight with wonder as he drinks in the sight of his new sword.
“Remember, A-Ying,” Lan Qiren says, “you may name it whatever you wish. But the name will last forever, so you must be certain of your choice.”
“Whatever, you say?” Wei Ying’s eyes glint mischievously. It’s an expression that suddenly brings Lan Qiren back to his days in the Library Pavilion with Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren, watching as they delighted in teasing him and each other. “Then I have the perfect name.” He looks at each of the Lans in turn before revealing his choice. “My sword will be called Suibian!”
Lan Qiren sees Lan Xichen fighting back a smile and the amusement in Lan Wangji’s eyes that reflects Lan Qiren’s own feelings. “You are truly your parents’ son, A-Ying,” Lan Qiren says. “You have their sense of humor.” He turns to the swordmaker. “You heard Young Master Wei. His sword’s name will be Suibian.”
Wei Ying’s eyes shine with pride. “Thank you, Uncle Lan.”
Moments later, Wei Ying is clutching his newly-forged Suibian, his eyes shining as he admires the name engraved in the blade. “What do you think, gege?” he asks, turning to Lan Wangji with a grin. “Did I choose a good name?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. “It is not one of the names you thought of previously. However, it suits Wei Ying best.”
“I knew my Lan Zhan would understand,” Wei Ying says happily. “Are you looking forward to sparring with me later, gege? I won’t go easy on you, so you shouldn’t hold back either, okay?”
Lan Qiren has serious doubts about whether Lan Wangji could even fathom disrespecting Wei Ying so much as to not put in every effort to win – a notion that’s proved to be correct by the fond exasperation in Lan Wangji’s eyes as he looks at Wei Ying pointedly. “We will be sparring for the position of first disciple,” Lan Wangji says. “Holding back would render the results of the spar meaningless.”
Wei Ying latches onto Lan Wangji’s arm once more, beaming at him. “Of course you’re right, gege. Then, let’s do our best!”
Lan Wangji nods, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he relaxes slightly into Wei Ying’s touch. Lan Qiren catches Lan Xichen’s eye and knows that they’re thinking the same thing: today’s spar between Lan Wangji and Wei Ying, deliberately arranged to take place in front of every important member of the cultivation world, will undoubtedly be one for the Lan history books.
~~~
The newly-named Wei Wuxian stands in the center of the main hall, and Lan Qiren stands before him with Wei Wuxian’s new forehead ribbon in his hands. Behind Lan Qiren, Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen hold the tablets that Lan Qiren commissioned for Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren many years ago.
“With this ribbon,” Lan Qiren says as he steps closer to Wei Wuxian and holds up the ribbon, his voice resonating throughout the hall, “Wei Wuxian is formally named an inner disciple of the Lan sect.” Everyone in attendance is already aware of the significance of Wei Wuxian’s separate naming ceremony, but Lan Qiren being the person to tie Wei Wuxian’s forehead ribbon adds an extra layer of importance that can’t be ignored – Wei Wuxian is, for all intents and purposes, to be regarded as a member of the family.
Wei Wuxian holds his chin up, his eyes shining with pride as Lan Qiren carefully ties the ribbon on for him. Lan Qiren steps back when he’s finished, returning to his place beside Lan Xichen, and takes in the young man before him. In his formal white robes, back straight with one arm folded behind him and the other clutching Suibian, the clouds embroidered on his new forehead ribbon glinting in the light, Wei Wuxian looks every inch like a Lan. And it’s fitting, Lan Qiren thinks, because he truly is a Lan now, in everything but name.
“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen says, and Lan Qiren finds the sound of the new name unfamiliar but right, “in honor of your coming of age, you may showcase a skill of your choice.”
Wei Wuxian inclines his head. “Sect Leader Lan, I choose to showcase a talisman of my own invention,” he says. “This talisman is a simple one, but may be used in many contexts.” He reveals the talisman with a flourish, holding it out for everyone to see. “When activated, the talisman binds two people using a cord made of spiritual energy.”
He looks at Lan Wangji, who, Lan Qiren notes, has a knowing expression in his eyes. Lan Wangji must have watched Wei Wuxian create the talisman, perhaps even helped him in the trial-and-error stages of experimentation. “Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says. “Will you do me the honor of assisting me in demonstrating the use of this talisman?”
“As you wish,” Lan Wangji says, stepping forward.
Wei Wuxian holds out his talisman and activates it with a confident smile. Immediately, a thin blue string appears, encircling his own left wrist and Lan Wangji’s right. “Such a talisman may be useful for keeping a companion close,” Wei Wuxian explains, raising his hand to demonstrate how the cord changes in length to accommodate movement. “It may also be used by parents wishing to keep sight of their children in a busy marketplace. Or, in more dire circumstances, it may be used to keep a captured criminal from escaping.”
Everyone in attendance seems in awe of the invention. It is, as Wei Wuxian said, incredibly simple, but undoubtedly handy. Lan Qiren watches with a warm feeling in his chest. Excessive pride may be forbidden, but Lan Qiren thinks what he feels right now is justified – Wei Wuxian is truly brilliant.
“The cord will last as long as the user continues to feed it spiritual energy,” Wei Wuxian says. “To break the cord, one simply cuts off the flow of energy, and it will vanish on its own.” As he speaks, the string fades out of existence, and Lan Wangji holds out his wrist. Wei Wuxian gestures to it as he continues, “The person being bound will not have any marks or bruises after the fact – the connection is painless, but unbreakable until the user has broken it.”
Lan Qiren can see how impressed Lan Xichen is, how strongly he’s fighting to keep himself from excessively praising Wei Wuxian. “Wei Wuxian, you have achieved quite a remarkable feat,” Lan Xichen says, his voice steady. “What do you call this talisman?”
Wei Wuxian grins and exchanges a look with Lan Wangji, whose face remains blank – though Lan Qiren can see the pride in his eyes. “I call it ‘Binding,’ Sect Leader Lan. I hope it may become a useful tool for those who need it.”
As Wei Wuxian finishes his presentation with a bow, Lan Qiren takes a moment to appreciate the looks of interest in the crowd of sect leaders and disciples as they absorb the depth of Wei Wuxian’s genius. He notices just one exception, in Jiang Fengmian and his family – there’s something almost bitter in Jiang Fengmian’s expression and borderline contemptuous in Yu Ziyuan’s as they look on. They aren’t doing anything disruptive, so Lan Qiren elects to ignore it, though in the back of his mind he notes that he will certainly interfere if they somehow act on their apparent discontent.
Lan Xichen clears his throat and addresses the entire hall. “There will be one more event to conclude Wei Wuxian’s naming ceremony.” Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stand a bit taller as Lan Xichen continues, “As every guest present today is aware, Gusu Lan has not yet named a head disciple. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have both displayed extraordinary potential, and as such, they will be sparring today for the honor of earning that title.”
A gentle murmur breaks out amongst the guests, which isn’t surprising to Lan Qiren. It was, after all, a relatively unorthodox move to not immediately name Lan Wangji as head disciple, renowned as he already is, after his naming ceremony. But the fact is that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are, in essence, entirely equal in terms of sheer talent, and it’s only right that they both have the same opportunity to earn the title for themselves.
Lan Xichen directs the guests to the courtyard outside the main hall, where seating has already been arranged beforehand. Lan Qiren takes his place at Lan Xichen’s side and watches as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji make their way to the middle of the courtyard. They draw their swords and bow to each other before settling into their fighting stances, and the air around them seems to still as they make eye contact from opposite corners of the designated sparring area. Lan Qiren catches the briefest glint of mischief in Wei Wuxian’s eyes before suddenly, quick as lightning, both boys move simultaneously and the first clash of their swords rings around the courtyard.
On occasion, Lan Qiren has had the opportunity to catch glimpses of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji sparring during their lessons, and has always been impressed by what he sees – yet none of those practice sessions hold a candle to what is unfolding now. The two of them are clearly giving the fight their all – the grace of each jump, the precision of each movement, the strength behind each strike – but they’re also very obviously enjoying themselves. Wei Wuxian, predictably, has an open expression of glee on his face as he twirls around Lan Wangji, but Lan Qiren can see the relish in Lan Wangji’s eyes as well. They’re stunning to watch, not just due to their perfect form and artful movements that almost resemble a carefully choreographed dance, but also because they’re having fun doing this.
They’ve grown up learning the same swordfighting methods, but Lan Qiren’s seasoned eye can spot the subtle differences in their preferred styles. Wei Wuxian favors speed, taking full advantage of his agility, while Lan Wangji makes use of his superior muscle development, his strength visibly surpassing Wei Wuxian’s. Still, they are nearly always evenly matched – even when one seems to be on the cusp of overpowering the other, a quick counter brings them back to equilibrium. The courtyard is entirely silent, save for the sound of Suibian and Bichen meeting over and over, with everyone too enraptured by the spectacle before them to speak.
When the spar began, the sun was directly above the courtyard. Time passes, the sun sinks lower and lower, and yet neither Wei Wuxian nor Lan Wangji show signs of letting up. Their golden cores are strong enough that they’re still able to maintain their form, but they’re also visibly tired now, sweat beading their foreheads as they continue to match each other blow for blow. The guests have started to become restless, fidgeting in their seats as the fight continues on relentlessly.
Lan Qiren is starting to think that perhaps the winner of the spar will be determined solely by who slips up first out of exhaustion when suddenly, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both stop, their eyes still trained on each other as some unspoken conversation takes place between them. There are some confused whispers throughout the courtyard as the two boys nod minutely at each other before, unthinkably, sheathing their swords and turning to face Lan Xichen.
“Sect Leader Lan.” Wei Wuxian says, bowing deeply. “Lan Wangji and I have a request.”
Lan Xichen’s eyebrows raise, and Lan Qiren can tell he has many questions for them, none of which he can ask in this setting. “Please, make it known.”
“The title of head disciple is given to the highest-achieving disciple in all areas,” Wei Wuxian says. “Sect Leader Lan, between Lan Wangji and myself, is it clear who fits this description best?”
The expression in Lan Xichen’s eyes suggests that he is as baffled as Lan Qiren, who is at a loss to understand where this line of questioning is leading. “It is not,” Lan Xichen says carefully. To the guests, he clarifies, “While Lan Wangji excels at musical cultivation and calligraphy, Wei Wuxian is unmatched in the art of talismans and archery. In all other areas, they are indistinguishable, hence the necessity of the spar today.”
Lan Wangji steps forward and bows next. “Wei Wuxian and I have fought to a draw in this swordfight. Would Sect Leader Lan agree to recognize the result as such?”
“Yes,” Lan Xichen says slowly, and Lan Qiren thinks he’s beginning to understand what Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are going for. “The length and outcome of the spar confirm that you are indeed equals in swordfighting.”
“Therefore,” Lan Wangji says, inclining his head once more, “respectfully, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji request to be named joint head disciples of Gusu Lan.”
Murmurs fill the courtyard as everyone takes in the unprecedented request. Lan Qiren reflects on this frankly radical idea in silence and finds that unorthodox as it may be, this idea does in fact have true merit. From the contemplative expression on Lan Xichen’s face, he can tell that his nephew has come to the same conclusion.
“It has never been done before,” Lan Xichen says, his voice echoing around the courtyard. “Yet, neither Wei Wuxian nor Lan Wangji has excelled over the other, and both have demonstrated unmatched mastery across all required areas. As such, it stands to reason that the only fair way to adhere to the Lan sect principles is to do precisely what has been suggested.” He stands and bows to the two boys. “Lan Xichen, sect leader of Gusu Lan, names Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji joint head disciples of Gusu Lan.”
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji return the bow respectfully. “Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji thank Sect Leader Lan.” They stay as poised as always, but Lan Qiren can tell that Wei Wuxian is just itching to latch onto Lan Wangji’s arm and drag him off to celebrate.
As Lan Xichen turns to the sect elders to officially state that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s new standing should be noted in the sect registry, Lan Qiren catches the briefest glimpse of a smile on his face before he straightens out his expression again. The formal declaration marks the conclusion of the ceremony, and Lan Xichen invites the guests to spend the remaining time before dinner is served however they wish, within the constraints of what is permitted by the rules.
The moment the courtyard is clear of visitors, Lan Qiren watches in amusement as Wei Wuxian drops his stoic facade and grabs Lan Wangji’s arm, beaming. “Gege! I told you Xiongzhang would agree!”
The corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth lift upwards as he offers Wei Ying a soft look. “Mn, Wei Ying was right.”
“An unusual request,” Lan Xichen says, smiling at them. “But certainly a reasonable and just one. Wangji, your musical cultivation is unsurpassed, but Wuxian, the talismans you create have only become increasingly impressive. I am glad you suggested a joint position – it made an impossible choice much more straightforward.”
Wei Wuxian shrugs, his grey eyes sparkling. “It only seemed fair, since me and Lan Zhan have never managed to beat each other more than one time in a row.”
“As is to be expected from the best disciples Gusu Lan has seen in generations,” Lan Qiren says. Amusingly, Wei Wuxian’s cheeks and Lan Wangji’s ears both turn bright red at the praise. “Wangji, Wuxian, I am immensely proud of you both.”
“Thank you, Uncle Lan!” Wei Wuxian squeaks out, still looking a little flustered.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Wei Wuxian flashes a smile, seemingly calmer now. “We’ll do our best to continue deserving your pride.”
Lan Qiren inclines his head, a smile of his own tugging at his lips. There is surely much to look forward to – after all, the boys are only fifteen. They have their whole lives ahead of them, during which they will certainly only continue to excel. “I have no doubt that you will always do so.”