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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian is kicked awake in a dingy hovel, and his first thought is that reincarnation really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. His second thought is that, honestly, he would have preferred to stay dead, anyway, because the dead don’t really think in terms of loss and grief, and now that he’s back, Wei Wuxian is remembering all his reasons for grief.

Dealing with the mystery of how he’s suddenly alive again and the price that’s been set for his return to life is much easier than dwelling on how his previous life ended, so that’s what Wei Wuxian does. Of course, his resolve not to think about everything he’s lost – wailing about it won’t bring anyone back, so what’s the point? Better to just keep moving, keep doing, and eventually, the pain will fade – is tested when he discovers that the visiting cultivators are from Gusu Lan.

They’re just juniors, and for all that Wei Wuxian knows that Gusu Lan trains its disciples very well, he knows they can’t have all that much experience going on night hunts. There doesn’t seem to be a senior disciple with them, so Wei Wuxian figures it’s probably only their first or second unsupervised night-hunt. He feels kind of sorry for them, because the fierce corpse arm isn’t something juniors should be expected to handle by themselves. Of course he’s going to help them, even if it’s difficult to do so without letting on that he’s helping them.

It’s easer to focus on the puzzle of it all than on how much he wishes he’d been able to see his own children grow up. It’s easier to focus on protecting these kids than on how he couldn’t do the same for his own. It’s almost like a game, and if he pretends hard enough, one day, he’ll manage to convince even himself that he’s having fun.

The sound of a guqin echoes through the night, and Wei Wuxian finds himself paralysed. He’d been doing such a good job not thinking about the past, but that single note and the joyful cry that goes up among the juniors has shattered all of his carefully constructed barriers. “Hanguang-Jun!” The one the others called Jingyi cries.

Lan Zhan.

How can Wei Wuxian possibly face Lan Zhan after everything? After his selfishness got their children killed? He can’t, is the answer. If he tries to look Lan Zhan in the eye right now, he’ll break, and that’s just not something he can cope with. So he bolts. He doesn’t know if anyone notices him leaving, only that by the time he stops, back in Mo Xuanyu’s rundown shack, no one is following him.

He cleans up the array that brought him back, trying not to drown in regrets as he does. For a brief moment, he bitterly wishes Mo Xuanyu had left well enough alone, but the feeling passes before it can grow roots. It’s true that Wei Wuxian never asked to be brought back to life, and probably didn’t deserve to be, but he’s not going to spit on Mo Xuanyu’s sacrifice just for that. His regrets are his own fault, not Mo Xuanyu’s.

He notices, belatedly, that he’s been crying, and impatiently wipes at the damp trails on his cheeks. His fingers come away smeared in red and white, and he huffs a weak laugh. He probably looks even more ridiculous now. He’s going to have to find a way to clean up sooner or later, but that can wait until he’s well away from the Mo Estate.

He has no idea what he’s going to do now that he’s alive again – he was perfectly happy being dead, honestly – but he’s never been the type to sit around moping about the things he doesn’t have and can’t do. If he had been, he would have been dead before he was six. He shies away from that thought, because… well. He’s been given a second chance at life, deserved or not, and there’s no point trying to cling to the broken strands of the old one. So he ignores the ache in his heart, and leaves the estate, avoiding the cultivators and stealing a donkey on his way.

Stealing the donkey was maybe a mistake, but just like all his other mistakes, it’s a little bit too late to take it back now. He finds a well to clean up at, hears a bit of gossip, and decides that he might as well do what he can to help.

He rethinks his decision when he realises that, of course, at a hunt this big, it’s no surprise that some cultivators from the Great Sects would be there. Wei Wuxian thinks it’s very unfair that the world keeps throwing reminders of his past at him. This kid in the Yunmeng Jiang robes looks just enough like a younger Jiang Cheng to make Wei Wuxian’s heart hurt. Especially when, on seeing Wei Wuxian, he scowls and says “You!” like it’s an accusation in and of itself.

“What about me?” He asks, bewildered. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know this kid, even if he does look a bit like Jiang Cheng, so he supposes this kid must have known Mo Xuanyu.

The kid splutters. “Don’t act like you don’t know!” He finally blurts out. “You think you can just show up here and no one will say anything after the scandal you caused?!”

“Scandal?” Wei Wuxian echoes, cocking his head.

“You-!” The kid says again, red-faced and nearly vibrating with rage. “How dare you! Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you did!” He explodes, and thoroughly ignores the bow already in his hand in favour of drawing his sword and levelling it at Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t really feel all that threatened, honestly. He’s had a sword pointed at him by scarier people than this kid. He goes still anyway, because the sword is golden and ostentatious, and it doesn’t look much like a Jiang Sect sword at all.

It looks far more like something the Jin Sect might wield. And, in fact, now that Wei Wuxian is looking at it, the sheath does look kind of familiar.

What are the odds, Wei Wuxian thinks, throat tight, that there are two kids in the Jiang Sect with close enough ties to Lanling Jin to wield one of their swords? Although, he does have to wonder why Jin Ling isn’t dressed in gold. After all, he should be the Jin Sect heir.

“Ah, that’s not what I mean!” Wei Wuxian bullshits, hands raised in placation. “I just didn’t think it was well known enough to count as a scandal, but I guess I was wrong. I’ve been a bit out of touch for a while.”

Jin Ling snorts at him, but he does lower his sword. “I had heard you’d gone mad after you crawled off home in disgrace.” He gives Wei Wuxian a judging look that highlights his resemblance to his father. “You don’t look all that mad, but I guess looks can be deceiving.”

“That they can!” Wei Wuxian agrees cheerfully, and Jin Ling looks like he’s abruptly reconsidering his assessment of how insane Mo Xuanyu is. “So, how old are you now, A-Ling?”

There’s a flash, and the sword is back in his face again. “Don’t you call me that! You lost the right to call me that after what you did to my xiao-bo.” It takes Wei Wuxian a moment to realise that Jin Ling is talking about Jin Guangyao, and he has a moment to marvel at the nerve of this Mo Xuanyu. Causing trouble with the guy people are now calling the Chief Cultivator and then turning around and sacrificing himself to the Yiling Patriarch? That takes guts, at least, even if it doesn’t speak well of Mo Xuanyu’s sense of self-preservation. Before he can dwell on it, though, Jin Ling throws another curveball at him by yelling; “It’s Jiang-gongzi to you, and don’t you forget it!”

“Jiang-gongzi?” He echoes. “Not Jin-gongzi?”

Apparently, this is the wrong question to ask, because Jin Ling’s – Jiang Ling’s? - eyes widen in outrage, and then he takes a swipe at Wei Wuxian with his sword. Wei Wuxian side-steps, spins, and slaps a talisman onto his back. Jiang Ling collapses like he’s had a mountain dropped on him, which is not an entirely inaccurate description.

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue and crouches down beside Jiang Ling. “It’s very rude to attack your senior, Jiang-gongzi.” He chides. “Besides, if you can’t even handle one cultivator as weak as me, what on earth are you doing hunting something like this by yourself? Ah, the arrogance of teenagers.”

“You cheated!” Jiang Ling accuses, flailing furiously in an attempt to regain his feet and making exactly no progress whatsoever. “Using filthy tricks just because you can’t manage anything else! I shouldn’t be surprised you’re such a disgrace, you damn cutsleeve!”

Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows. “Only half way.” He says cheerfully, and doesn’t bother to explain himself when Jiang Ling gives him a furiously confused glower. “But you never answered my question! How rude! If you’re competing to see who can be the rudest young master, I think you must be winning.” He shakes his head in disappointment.

“As if you deserve any better!” Jiang Ling snaps. “And I’m not by myself, anyway, so you better let me up before my jiujiu gets here, or you’ll be sorry!”

Wei Wuxian goes still. “Your jiujiu?” He echoes warily.

“That would be me.”

Wei Wuxian goes slightly dizzy with how quickly all the blood drains from his face. Jiang Ling looks triumphant, which is an achievement, given his current predicament, but Wei Wuxian can’t quite quite spare a thought for that right now. “Right.” He says faintly. “That jiujiu.”

He turns, and there’s Jiang Cheng, striding out of the trees with murder written all over his face. “Don’t say that as though he has more than one.” He scoffs. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to point out that, technically, Jiang Ling does have more than one – even if Wei Wuxian is supposed to be dead, he was still Jiang Ling’s jiujiu, sort of, mostly – but before he can, Jiang Cheng’s gaze zeroes in on Jiang Ling. “Jiang Ling, what are you still doing on the floor?! Get-” He spots the talisman and a snarl curls his mouth.

Wei Wuxian jumps up and scrambles backwards as Jiang Cheng marches forward and into his space to tear the talisman off Jiang Ling’s back and set it on fire after he’s ascertained what, exactly, it is. Jiang Ling springs up, and he and Jiang Cheng take turns threatening him with escalating levels of violence.

Jiang Ling attacks him again, but this time, before Wei Wuian can figure out what to do, Jiang Ling’s sword is deflected by Bichen, and Wei Wuxian topples onto his ass in the dirt in surprise. Today just really isn’t his day, it seems. To be confronted with Shijie’s son, who apparently hates Mo Xuanyu for some reason, and then Jiang Cheng, who’s apparently still so angry at Wei Wuxian that he’s taking it out on other demonic cultivators, and then Lan Zhan, who Wei Wuxian can’t bear to so much as look at.

Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng snipe at each other. Or rather, Jiang Cheng snipes at Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan’s disciples defend him. “Since we’re all here hunting the same thing, why don’t we work together?” One of them asks, and Wei Wuxian realises that they the same group from the Mo Estate, and he recognises that kid as the one who’d been in charge of the others then; Lan Sizhui.

Jiang Ling hesitates, frowning, and Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Well? Go on, then.” He barks. “You can’t just stand around and expect your prey to throw itself onto your sword. You told me you could handle yourself on a proper night-hunt, so don’t you dare disgrace our sect in front of everyone!”

Jiang Ling bristles right back at him. “I don’t need their help to catch this thing!”

“Of course.” One of the other disciples, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Lan Sizhui says sweetly. “Jiang-gongzi must be a cultivation genius on par with his famous jiujiu.” It’s a bit of an over-the-top compliment, Wei Wuxian thinks, but there’s really no reason for Jiang Ling to be scowling at the boy like that, or for Jiang Cheng to suddenly look so angry.

“Didi.” Lan Sizhui hisses in reprimand, before turning to Jiang Ling. “He didn’t mean-”

His brother, apparently, makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “Are you saying you think the great Jiang-gongzi is unworthy of such a compliment, Da-ge?” He asks innocently, and Lan Sizhui shoots him a chiding look.

“Of course not, he’s an excellent cultivator.” Lan Sizhui says evenly, which makes Jiang Ling go rather pink. Wei Wuxian finds it both adorable and heart-rending, because it makes him look, just for a moment, like Shijie. “But you shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jiang Ling says, drawing himself up. “I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to be proven right when Jiujiu and I catch this thing.” He fires back, in this argument Wei Wuxian doesn’t understand at all, and then turns on his heel and marches off into the trees with his nose in the air. Now, Wei Wuxian thinks ruefully, he looks like the stupid peacock again. Jiang Cheng storms after him.

Wei Wuxian tries to leave discreetly, but hauling himself out of the dirt isn’t that subtle, and the Lan disciples notice him. “Hello again, Mo-gongzi.” Lan Sizhui greets him politely.

Wei Wuxian laughs awkwardly. “Hello again, Young Masters.”

“We were worried, when we couldn’t find you after that fierce corpse’s hand attacked.” Lan Sizhui’s brother adds. It’s exactly what Wei Wuxian had been hoping they wouldn’t bring up.

“Aw, you’re so sweet! I’m fine, I’m fine!” He assures them, mustering up a grin as he hops up and dusts himself off with exaggerated motions. “I was just so excited to get away from that place, since I finally could!” He adds, and several expressions twist towards pity. Wei Wuxian doesn’t dare so much as peek at Lan Zhan out of the corner of his eye, to see if he’s reacting at all.

“It would have been polite to say goodbye before you vanished.” The one called Lan Jingyi points out, somewhere between scolding and petulant.

Wei Wuxian jumps on the opportunity. “Oh, well! I can say goodbye now!” He points out brightly, like this makes any sense at all, and then bows deeply. “Goodbye, Young Masters, and stay safe on your hunt!” He chirps, and then scarpers before they can muster up a response.

He wants it noted, somewhere, by someone, that he was going to leave. He really was. Only then he figures out that everyone here has no idea what they’re hunting and Jiang Yanli’s son is right in the middle of it, and he would never be able to forgive himself if Jiang Ling got hurt when Wei Wuxian could have done something to prevent it. And then, of course, everything goes spectacularly wrong, like a cascading domino effect where every move Wei Wuxian makes to try and help only makes things worse. For him, at least, not anyone else.

A hand grabs his wrist, and Wei Wuxian knows who it belongs to even before he makes the mistake of turning and looking. Painfully familiar golden eyes stare back at him, wide and shocked. Wei Wuxian feels frozen, paralysed in place, too many feelings building like a storm in his chest, but then Jiang Cheng is there, and Lan Zhan’s attention shifts, and Wei Wuxian can suddenly breathe again.

When Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng actually start fighting, Wei Wuxian decides it might make a decent distraction, and tries to leave. Zidian halts him in his tracks, flinging him to the ground with the force of the blow, and he plays up the pain and indignation, whining and wailing and generally acting as pathetic as he possibly can. If he makes enough of a scene, perhaps everyone will forget that they saw him summon Wen Ning with demonic cultivation, and he can just slink away at some point.

His hopes are dashed when Lan Zhan declares his intention to bring Mo Xuanyu back to Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian is so busy trying not to let the memories break him that he entirely misses his opportunity to object.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji is not surprised when Sizhui approaches him with a faint frown of concern putting a wrinkle between his brows. They’re walking, because Wei Ying had thrown a tantrum worthy of a younger A-Xiang at her worst at the suggestion that he leave his donkey behind. It’ll take them an entire day to get back to Cloud Recesses this way, but Lan Wangji considers that an easy price to pay. Because somehow, impossibly, inexplicably, Wei Ying is alive. Lan Wangji would’ve walked from Cloud Recess to the furthest reaches of Meishan for that.

Wei Ying is sitting on his donkey, balancing cross-legged on the creatures back as it ambles along at a pace that will increase their journey time from one day to many, and he’s being flanked by Jingyi and Renshou, because they had noticed Lan Wangji’s unwillingness to give Wei Ying another chance to flee, and had taken up guard duty without needing to be asked.

And that’s the thing that has been troubling Lan Wangji, even through the sheer effervescent joy of Wei Ying’s unbelievable return. Wei Ying ran from him. Many times. He attempted to flee even while Lan Wangji had been protecting him from Jiang Wanyin. He took the first opportunity to escape the time before that, too, when he’d been protecting him from Rulan.

He tried to wheedle his way out of going to Cloud Recesses, too, which suggests it’s not specifically Jiang Wanyin he’s trying to avoid. There’s even a possibility that it was him at the Mo Estate, given that, somehow, he isn’t actually possessing this body. And if it was him, which Lan Wangji suspects it was, given some of Renshou’s sly comments about the way ‘Mo-qianbei’ behaved during the confrontation with the fierce corpse arm, then it isn’t simply that he’s fleeing cultivators in general, since he was perfectly happy to talk to and harass the Juniors.

He’s avoiding Lan Wangji specifically.

It’s painful to contemplate that, despite everything, Wei Ying would chose to avoid him in this miraculous second chance of his, but it’s also… baffling, and for the moment, confusion is outweighing the hurt. Until he has a chance to speak to Wei Ying in private, to get an explanation, both for how he is here and why he keeps trying to leave, then Lan Wangji will wait, and simply be glad that Wei Ying is back.

“Baba?” Sizhui asks, soft and quiet, as though wary of drawing attention to his concern for Lan Wangji. Not that he needs to worry, because up ahead, Wei Ying is bickering with Jingyi, and the volume of the two of them combined is enough to drown out a normal conversation.

“Mn?” Lan Wangji replies.

Sizhui doesn’t respond for a long moment, following Lan Wangji’s gaze to Wei Ying and staring in that direction as he tries to work out what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on; “Are you alright?”

Lan Wangji is touched by his concern. “Mn.” He says, because no matter what, no matter if it turns out Wei Ying hates him, and leaves to wander the world, a living Wei Ying is still infinitely preferable to a dead one.

Some of the tension leaves Sizhui’s brow, but he hesitates to leave Lan Wangji’s side and rejoin the other disciples. Lan Wangji is content to wait until Sizhui is able to voice whatever’s on his mind, very familiar with the struggle of fitting thoughts into the right words. “Mo-qianbei seems… unwell.” He says finally.

“Unwell?” Lan Wangji prompts, concern flaring to life in his chest.

“His behaviour is very erratic, and not always… logical.” Sizhui explains carefully.

Lan Wangji relaxes a little, and thinks back to what he’s seen so far of ‘Mo Xuanyu’s’ behaviour in the context of it being Wei Ying, and not Mo Xuanyu at all. He thought of the way Wei Ying had spoken to Jiang Wanyin, a very precise mix of flirtatious and dismissive that anyone who actually knew Jiang Wanyin would know would drive him absolutely mad. Wei Ying knows Jiang Wanyin very well indeed. And his behaviour towards Lan Wangji, too, has been exactly the sort of callous and petty disregard that, from anyone else, Lan Wangji would find irritating, and from Wei Ying feels like a knife through the heart.

It could be brushed off as madness, a sickness of the mind perhaps caused by a soul too fractured to so much as answer Inquiry, but Lan Wangji doesn’t think so. The effects of his behaviour are too consistent for Lan Wangji to believe it’s happenstance. Lan Wangji slants a pointed look at Sizhui and, when his son glances up at him, he arches one brow in silent challenge to question his assumption.

Sizhui frowns in puzzlement, and looks back at Wei Ying. The donkey has come to a stop to munch on a patch of particularly verdant grass, and Wei Ying is laughing at Jingyi’s vain attempts to coax the animal to keep moving. The sound is a balm to Lan Wangji’s heart, and he’s perfectly happy to stop and wait for the donkey to grow tired of its meal, as long as Wei Ying is there.

“Don’t stop on our account, Hanguang-Jun. We’ll catch up, we’ll catch up.” Wei Ying calls over, waving a dismissive hand at Lan Wangji without actually looking up at him, apparently fascinated by some mark or other on his terrible flute. Lan Wangji has noticed that Wei Ying doesn’t seem to want to look at him, going out of his way to avoid it ever since that moment where Lan Wangji had grabbed his arm, newly arrived at the realisation of his identity.

“It is no trouble to wait.” Lan Wangji says, with just a touch of deliberate emphasis, to draw Sizhui’s attention. Sizhui glances at him, and then back at Wei Ying, who laughs, sharp and bright; for show, not for real.

“Ah, well then, this humble one will take full advantage of Hanguang-Jun’s legendary patience! Time for a nap!” He declares, flinging himself off the donkey and into the shade of a nearby tree. Jingyi yelps, and attempts to drag Wei Ying back up from his sprawl. Wei Ying promptly latches onto the tree like a child, wailing that he’s sleepy, and that Gusu Lan disciples are so mean and ungentlemanly.

“We’re not going to get back to Cloud Recesses until next year with the way you’re carrying on!” Jingyi snaps irritably, and Sizhui’s eyes widen as he turns back to Lan Wangji, who nods once.

“I didn’t think… even Xiao-mei isn’t so shameless.” He says softly. This is true, Lan Wangji will admit, but then Wei Ying has always been remarkably shameless. This is still a bit more dramatic than his usual, but Lan Wangji can easily put that down to his desire to hide his identity from those who knew him before. “Baba… if Mo-qianbei is that determined, then why…?”

Lan Wangji hesitates. The truth, whole and unfettered, is that it is Wei Ying, and Lan Wangji is just selfish enough to take Wei Ying’s previous almost-agreement to come to Cloud Recesses and run with it right up until he directly announces his intent to leave. But he thinks of the hurt lurking deep inside his heart, at the notion that Wei Ying might be acting this way because he genuinely wants nothing to do with Lan Wangji in this life.

Lan Wangji and their children, of which Sizhui, their little A-Yuan, is one.

Better, he thinks, to keep that hurt to himself, and spare the children the pain of knowing their mama chose to leave them behind. Sizhui might not remember very much from before Wei Ying died, but that knowledge would destroy Feihao. Decided, Lan Wangji contemplates how he could possibly explain his decision without that mitigating fact.

“There are things I must discuss with Mo-gongzi.” Lan Wangji says finally. He can see the spark of curiosity in Sizhui’s eyes, but he doesn’t ask, and Lan Wangji is grateful.

“Da-ge!” Renshou calls, striding over with enough purpose that on anyone else, Lan Wangji is sure it would be stomping. “I believe Mo-qianbei would benefit from a more calming presence than Jingyi can provide.” He says, right on the edge of scathing.

“Mn.” Sizhui agrees, shooting an understanding smile at his brother, and then squaring his shoulders with determination before stepping past him to join Wei Ying and Jingyi under the tree. Renshou takes his place at Lan Wangji’s side, but doesn’t turn to look back at the others. If they were at home, in private, Lan Wangji suspects Renshou would have dropped his forehead onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder, let him bear a little of his weight, but it’s not a luxury his son allows himself in public.

“Mo-qianbei is very energetic.” Renshou says, which of course is just code for ‘ugh, that man is exhausting to deal with’.

It’s a little amusing that Renshou is thinking, if not speaking, so disrespectfully of Wei Ying, the mother he will defend with sweet, poisoned words at the drop of a hat. Lan Wangji suspects that if he knew that Mo-gongzi was, in fact, Wei Ying, he would not be thinking so ill of him. And as amusing as it is, Lan Wangji does not want Renshou to regret even his thoughts later, if it turns out Lan Wangji will be able to tell the children the truth. “Do not be hasty in your judgement of others.” Lan Wangji quotes mildly.

Renshou shoots him a startled look, because usually Lan Wangji will politely not address whatever is buried underneath his words and actions, but then he nods acceptance of the gentle rebuke, eyes narrowing. “Baba must think very well of Mo-qianbei.” He says shrewdly.

“I am very grateful for his presence, both here and during the incident at the Mo Estate.” Lan Wangji says simply, because he knows Renshou will mine his words for deeper meaning. From the reports that both Sizhui and Renshou had given, Lan Wangji had begun to suspect, even before he knew that ‘Mo-qianbei’ was actually Wei Ying, that he’d been more involved in aiding the junior disciples in that fight than they’d been aware of. Learning his true identity only cemented his suspicions.

Renshou’s expression turns troubled as he goes back over his memories of the events, and recognises what Lan Wangji isn’t saying. “He came back, even after Rulan attacked him.” He says thoughtfully, looking back at Wei Ying, who has now achieved his wish, and is napping peacefully in the shade while Sizhui, Jingyi, and the rest of the disciples sit around him, taking advantage of the chance to relax a little after their last two consecutive hunts turned so disastrous on them.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agrees.

Renshou draws in a shaky breath. “Baba…” He murmurs, and then stops. Lan Wangji looks at him sharply, reassessing exactly how upset his son is. He shifts a little closer, until their shoulders brush, and Renshou leans into it, swallows hard, and shakes his head.

Lan Wangji considers, and then decides to change the subject. “Speaking of Rulan…” He says, and knows he doesn’t need to finish from the way Renshou grimaces briefly before his expression smooths out again.

“I’ll apologise to him the next time I see him.” Renshou promises, and Lan Wangji nods his satisfaction. Renshou sighs and presses a little more firmly into Lan Wangji’s side, coming very close to actually leaning on him. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” He says, and it’s not just an expression of regret, or an attempt to dodge responsibility. Lan Wangji considers what Renshou might be trying to say, and decides there’s a question buried under there, and it’s a genuine one, even if Lan Wangji thinks it’s a question Renshou ought to be able to answer for himself.

“It is a good thing you take so much after your father.” Lan Wangji quotes.

Renshou stiffens, which is the only sign of his anger that he allows himself to show, but then he relaxes all at once as Lan Wangji’s meaning sinks in. ‘You used him to hurt someone he loves, and you know how that feels’ Lan Wangji doesn’t say, because he doesn’t need to.

“I’ll… I’ll apologise to him.” Renshou repeats, with more conviction. “And to Jiang-zongzhu.” He adds, this time with resignation.

“If you feel it necessary.” Lan Wangji says.

Renshou grimaces, looking down and away. “I would.” He says pointedly, and Lan Wangji nods his acceptance of the point. That is the mistake the Lan Elders have made in their, admittedly already paltry, attempts to apologise to Renshou ‘if they somehow gave offence’. “Baba…” Renshou says again, and Lan Wangji hums an acknowledgement. “Are… are you going to ask Mo-gongzi…” He trails off. Lan Wangji waits, uncertain what Renshou is so worried about. When he finally does speak, it’s in a barely audible whisper that nonetheless lands heavy in Lan Wangji’s mind. “…about Shushu?”

Lan Wangji meets his son’s gaze, and sees the wild confusion and hurt desperation there. “Mm.” He confirms.

Renshou presses his lips very firmly together as his eyes gleam suddenly with wetness he refuses to allow to turn into tears. “I- The Jin said they killed them.” He breathes, and Lan Wangji nods, his own lips thinning in barely repressed fury. That gets a wobbly but genuine smile out of Renshou, and his weight against Lan Wangji’s shoulder increases for a bare moment before he pulls back and straightens again, returning to proper posture.

They stand together in silence for a moment, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts, before Renshou murmurs a quiet “Excuse me,” and wanders over to settle beside Sizhui and Jingyi.

Lan Wangji remains standing, and he catches a couple of the disciples shooting him nervous looks, like they think he might disapprove of their sitting and talking, but these ones are in Sizhui and Renshou’s age group, and they’re used to taking their cues from them, and since Lan Wangji’s sons don’t seem even a little bit worried, no one makes any move to stand or quell the quiet susurrus of voices.

Mostly, Lan Wangji spares the disciples no mind. They’re old enough that he doesn’t feel the need to monitor them, and all of his attention is reserved for Wei Ying, still dozing comfortably in the shade. It takes a while for him to wake, and reluctantly accept that this ploy to get left behind didn’t work. He settles back atop his donkey, and laughs merrily as the disciples entirely fail to get the beast moving. He offers them no help, but he doesn’t seem too put out when they finally succeed, either.

Chapter Text

Cloud Recesses is just the same as Wei Wuxian remembers. There are more rules than ever, but apart from that, it has exactly the same atmosphere that he remembers from all those many years ago when he was a guest disciple here. Causing a fuss at the gate didn’t work, so he gives up, and allows Lan Jingyi and the brother whose name he never heard to drag him along without resisting, with Lan Sizhui leading the way towards the jingshi.

“Ah, I just realised!” He says as the thought crosses his mind, and the poor juniors tense in preparation for another tantrum. Cute. “I never got your name, Young Master.” He says.

The unnamed Lan sees where his gaze is focused, and immediately steps back to bow to him properly. “Please excuse my lapse in manners. This one is Lan Renshou, Mo-qianbei.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I never properly introduced myself either, you know.” Wei Wuxian says, waving off the boy’s stiff formality. “Ah, you must be very skilled, to be in the same class as your older brother. A true prodigy!” He teases.

Lan Renshou does go pink, just at the tips of his ears, exactly the same way Lan Zhan blushes, but he’s otherwise composed as he shakes his head. Ah, Lans. “It’s nothing to be proud of; it’s due to no accomplishment on my part. We’ve always been in the same class, as there’s only a difference of hours between us.” He explains, sounding very subtly proud of himself, despite his claims.

“Oh! Twins!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, feigning surprise. He’s not actually all that surprised; it was the answer he’d been fishing for, after all, even if it’s not the one he wanted to hear. The reminder makes him ache, and he kind of wishes he hadn’t provoked it, but the not knowing had ached too, in a different way. “How lucky! Your parents must have been thrilled, huh?” He says brightly.

“Baba is very proud of us.” Lan Sizhui says by way of an agreement as they start walking again, his cheeks faintly pink.

“As he should be!” Wei Wuxian nods officiously.

“Here we are.” Lan Jingyi says a moment later, gesturing grandly towards…

Well, it’s definitely the jingshi. Or what used to be the jingshi, because although the location is the right one, and Wei Wuxian does sort of recognise the door, the building is much too large to be the simple, ascetic living quarters he remembers Lan Zhan keeping before. “Aiyah, but it’s so big!” He says aloud. It even has a second floor, and wings that protrude either side of the main – possibly the original – building. He would never have expected Lan Zhan to accept so much excess space. “This is where Hanguang-Jun lives?” He wonders, making himself sound awed instead of sceptical.

“That’s right.” Lan Jingyi announces. “You’ve been given a great honour, being invited to stay here, so be grateful.” He adds, shooting Wei Wuxian a dirty look that tells him that Lan Jingyi, at least, still hasn’t forgiven him for the scene he made at the gate.

“I am, I am.” Wei Wuxian assures him, not entirely sure he means it. He is grateful that Lan Zhan didn’t leave him to Jiang Cheng’s tender mercies, but he’s not grateful to be staying here. Just standing here looking at this big, silent house hurts; he’s not sure he’ll be able to bear stepping inside.

“If Mo-qianbei will excuse us, these disciples have other responsibilities to see to.” Lan Renshou says, when the silence has dragged out into something uncomfortable. Wei Wuxian makes some sort of acknowledging noise, he thinks.

“Are you going to be alright, settling in by yourself?” Lan Sizhui checks, sweetly earnest.

No, no I won’t, Wei Wuxian thinks desperately. He doesn’t want to dwell on all the empty spaces in his heart, he doesn’t want to think about everything he’s lost. He wants noise, and distractions, and enough Emperor’s Smile to drown a moderately sized village. Not this too-big, too-empty house of Lan Zhan’s, echoing with ghosts.

“Of course.” He says brightly. “How much trouble could I possibly get into in Cloud Recesses anyway?” He asks.

The three disciples exchange surprisingly subtle looks. “We’ll see you later, then, Mo-qianbei.” Lan Jingyi offers, and then the three of them retreat, leaving Wei Wuxian staring up at the jingshi by himself. The moment their footsteps have faded, Wei Wuxian turns on his heel and goes looking for a way out. Climbing the walls doesn’t work, and all of the junior disciples are in lessons, so he has no way of stealing one of the jade tokens that would let him out, and in the end, he has no choice but to return to the jingshi with dragging steps.

The inside is a little less spartan than Wei Wuxian was honestly expecting, and it’s a little bit of a relief. Even knowing, as he does, that only Lan Zhan lives here, the house doesn’t feel empty. He considers exploring, but he doesn’t want to shatter his own, tenuous comfort, so he flops down at a low table, and wonders what on earth he’s going to do now. It depends entirely on Lan Zhan, really, and why on earth he up and decided to make off with a disgraced ex-Jin disciple.

He chuckles ruefully to himself. “What will everyone think of you now, huh?” He wonders aloud, because he’s not actually an idiot, and he’s fully aware of what it must have looked like to everyone, the way Lan Zhan had swooped in, rescued him, brought him home, and then decided to house him in Lan Zhan’s own private rooms. “Although… I suppose everyone already thought you had terrible taste in men, so I guess you’re not really losing anything.”

A sudden clatter from outside catches Wei Wuxian’s attention, and he looks up just as the door to the jingshi is flung open. “Anyone home?!” A young voice calls. Wei Wuxian has no idea what to say, so he’s still sitting there, mouth slightly open at the sheer disrespect this kid is showing to the home of Hanguang-Jun, when the young girl rounds the corner.

She’s a Lan disciple, in the typical white of the sect, with the cloud embroidery on her ribbon to mark her a member of the clan as well. She’s got strings of silver and white jade in her hair, which is adornment more suited to the Lanling Jin than the Gusu Lan, but does look very nice with her white robes and forehead ribbon. She can’t be older than ten or eleven, not yet old enough to carry a spiritual sword, which means Wei Wuxian can’t possibly have met her before, but there’s still something about her face that tugs at his memory in odd ways.

She stops dead when she spots him. “Oh, I didn’t realise we had a guest.” She says.

Wei Wuxian feels his heart catch on the ‘we’ and wonders, painfully, if Lan Zhan moved on after he died, found someone else who could give him company and sex and kids. “I don’t think Hanguang-Jun realised he’d be bringing a guest home, either.” He says wryly.

“No?” The girl asks, and then brightens and throws herself down to sit opposite Wei Wuxian. “Oh! Did Baba go all impulsive again? I love it when he does that! Tell me everything!” She orders, and it is an order. Sweetly voiced and accompanied by the biggest, most expectant eyes Wei Wuxian has ever seen, but an order nonetheless. Who would have thought Lan Zhan would raise such a little brat.

“Tell you everything?” Wei Wuxian echoes, feigning thoughtfulness. “That would be hard, since I don’t know everything, as much as I like to pretend I do!” He says, laughing.

The girl laughs along, surprising Wei Wuxian. “No! I just mean everything about why Baba brought you home!”

Wei Wuxian makes a scoffing noise. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know anything about that. There I was, just minding my own business, and then bam! Hanguang-Jun is right there, going ‘I’m taking him back to Gusu with me’ because apparently I don’t get a say. How rude! I expected better from such a renowned cultivator.”

The girl bounces where she’s sitting, looking positively thrilled. “What were you doing right before that? You must have done something to get his attention. Baba doesn’t go all impulsive without a really good reason. It still always makes Shugong pull the lemon-face, though, which is part of why I love it. Usually no one but me puts any effort into getting him to loosen up.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart hurts, but he laughs through it, because this girl is less Lan than any other Lan he’s met, including Lan Jingyi. “Lemon-face?” He asks, instead of dwelling on anything else.

“Yeah! You know, like…” The girl is suddenly sitting with perfect posture, and her face contorts into a tight, pinched expression. Wei Wuxian laughs harder, because it’s a very good imitation, and he’s seen Lan Qiren pull that exact expression before.

“So you’re a little trouble-maker, huh?” Wei Wuxian asks, and he ignores the way his heart throbs painfully in his chest as he says it.

“Well, I don’t think so.” The girl says with a pout and a shrug. “Shugong loves me very much, so I can’t be that bad. And Baba doesn’t think so, either, or-”

“I do.”

Wei Wuxian jumps when Lan Zhan speaks, and a moment later he steps into view. He’s smiling, ever so faintly, and it’s just another hurt on top of a mountain of hurts for Wei Wuxian to ignore. The girl – Lan Zhan’s daughter – looks around and beams. “Baba! I am not.”

“You are.” Lan Zhan insists. “Just like your mama.”

Wei Wuxian can’t do this. If he’s forced to sit here watching this for a moment longer, he’s going to break. Shatter apart into a thousand tiny pieces of loss all over Lan Zhan’s lovely not-actually-too-big-after-all house. “Right, well, time for me to be going, then.” He says briskly, pushing himself up and taking a step towards the door. “Can’t sit around all day like-”

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian freezes for half a heartbeat, and then plasters a smile that feels fragile on over his shock before he turns around to face Lan Zhan. “Who’s that?” He asks blithely. “Really, Hanguang-Jun, it’s very rude of you to keep me prisoner like this, the things people will say about-”

“Let them talk.” Lan Zhan snaps, and then; “Wei Ying.”

Staring, Wei Wuxian tries to find even a hint of uncertainty in Lan Zhan’s face, and only sees absolute conviction, and stubbornness running a mile deep. Sighing, he slumps back down into his seat. “How did you know?” He asks quietly.

“You told me yourself.” Lan Zhan states.

“I did not.”

“You did.”

Wei Wuxian throws his hands up in the air in resigned frustration. He ought to know better than to argue with Lan Zhan when he gets like this, but really, Wei Wuxian would have known if he’d gone and blurted out something like that in front of Lan Zhan.

“You-” The girl suddenly chokes out, sounding very emotional all of a sudden. Wei Wuxian refocuses on her, and is startled to see that there are tears in her eyes, and her lower lip is trembling. “You’re… Wei Ying? Wei Wuxian?” She asks in a voice that quivers.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Lan Zhan.” He chides.

“Yes.” Lan Zhan says, ignoring him completely. “He is.”

“But-” The girl says, eyes darting between the two of them uncertainly. “But- I thought- You said- that Mama…”

Wei Wuxian winces. “Is it going to be a problem that you brought me here?” He asks, trying to be light-hearted about it, because what else can he do? He had his chance to have Lan Zhan, and he threw it away because he was too stubborn, and too proud, and he thought he could handle everything himself like an absolute idiot. He didn’t have any right to go getting upset about it now.

Lan Zhan stares at him, and Wei Wuxian is pretty sure that’s his ‘you can start making sense any time now’ stare, so he huffs, and forces the words out. “I can go, if me being here would upset her mama.” He explains, gesturing to the girl whose name he still hasn’t gotten.

Now both of them are giving him the exact same ‘please start making sense’ stare. Wei Wuxian stares back, because, really, it isn’t exactly a shocking notion, that a wife might be upset at the presence of her husband’s ex-lover, never mind if said ex-lover also happens to be the most infamous villain of the cultivation world since Wen Ruohan.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan says again, but slowly this time, with deliberation, as though he’s talking to someone either very young, or very stupid. Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes at him for it. “You are A-Xiang’s mother.”

That’s almost enough to make Wei Wuxian angry. It hurts, so much and so deep that he can’t breathe around the pain, and damn Lan Zhan for saying that, like it could possibly be true. “Don’t joke, Lan Zhan, not about that.” He grits out, shoving away from the table as if physical distance might make it hurt less. It doesn’t.

“Baba?” Lan Meihua asks, quiet and bewildered and upset, and it hurts.

Wei Wuxian scrambles to his feet, with no idea where he’s going except away, but before he can take so much as a step, Lan Zhan is right there, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around to face him again. “Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan says again, this time with so much urgency that Wei Wuxian can’t help but snap to attention, staring up into Lan Zhan’s fierce gaze. “I am not joking. A-Xiang is our youngest daughter.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “She’s- she died, Lan Zhan.” He insists, shaking his head more frantically. “I- I tried- I swear, I tried to- but she came early and- I couldn’t keep the barriers up at the same time- They- I couldn’t-”

“You saved her.” Lan Zhan insists. “You saved them all.”

Wei Wuxian draws in a shuddering gasp, and something cracks inside him, his last defence against hoping in vain, maybe. Still, he shakes his head, unwilling to allow that hope to grow unchecked just yet. “She’s- A-Xiang’s too young. She’s- what? Ten?”

“Thirteen.” Lan Zhan corrects, and he’s smiling. “She came early.” He repeats for Wei Wuxian, who suddenly feels dizzy with hope and disbelief. “It was difficult, in the beginning, and she has always been small for her age because of it, but she lived.” He insists, softly, and then very pointedly turns Wei Wuxian towards- towards their daughter, who’s standing beside the table with her hands fisted at her sides and tears making tracks down her cheeks.

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian can’t believe how blind he’d been. She looks like him. She has dark eyes, and there’s more than a little Lan Zhan in her ears and her mouth, but the rest of her is pure Wei. She’s his daughter, and he made her cry. “A-Xiang?” He asks, and his voice trembles and shakes just as badly as hers did. “You’re- You’re really… my little bun?”

She nods, all stubborn determination, just like Lan Zhan, and when Wei Wuxian reaches out to her, still afraid that she might vanish if he blinks, she lunges forward and wraps her arms around him in a crushing hug.

Wei Wuxian breaks. He shatters into a thousand tiny little pieces of agonising joy all over Lan Zhan’s perfectly-sized house. Wrapping his arms around his baby, he buries his face in her jewel-adorned hair, sinks to the floor until she’s cradled in his lap, and cries.

Chapter Text

Relief is a heady feeling. Lan Wangji kneels and pulls his miraculously resurrected lover and their little miracle of a daughter into his arms and breathes what feels like his first breath of clear air in days. Wei Ying is alive, and does not hate him, and isn’t trying to leave anymore. The fact that Wei Ying is also sobbing brokenly into their youngest daughter’s hair does put something of a damper on his mood, but he thinks they’re not, necessarily, bad tears. The ache it ignites in Lan Wangji’s heart is a tender one; one that bleeds all of his love for these people, for their family, into his chest until he feels he might burst from it.

It’s a long time before Wei Ying manages to stop crying and let Meihua go. She’s been calm for a while now, although still sniffling in answer to Wei Ying’s tears, and Lan Wangji loves them both so much it hurts. He refuses to do more than loosen his hold so that Wei Ying can lean back, supported by Lan Wangji’s arm, and wipe his face with his sleeve. Lan Wangji huffs softly, and reluctantly uncurls his arm from around Meihua to proffer up a handkerchief.

Wei Ying blinks at it for a moment, and then laughs, watery and bright, and accepts it to blow his nose and dab at his cheeks. Then he shamelessly slips it into his own sleeve and refocuses on Meihua, while Lan Wangji tries not to preen too visibly. “You’ll forgive your mama for being an oblivious idiot, won’t you, A-Xiang?” Wei Ying asks, teasing to cover up the more serious question underneath.

“Of course.” Meihua says dismissively, as though it shouldn’t even have been a question. She stares up into Wei Ying’s face – his new face – and her eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “I thought- Baba said you were dead.” She prompts, eyes flicking to Lan Wangji in question.

Grief sticks in Lan Wangji’s lungs, and he can’t help but pull Wei Ying a little bit closer, focusing on the weight of him in his arms to remind himself that, somehow, miraculously, he is back. Back, and laughing, even if this one is quiet and more than a little bit rueful. “Ah, well… that’s because I was, Xiao-Xiang.” Wei Ying explains. “But I came back. Well, it would be more accurate to say I was brought back. I didn’t exactly get much choice in the matter.” He drifts into thought for a brief moment, before his eyes widen and he reaches out to cup Meihua’s face in his hands. She blinks, startled, but doesn’t object. “Of course, if I’d known my precious little babies were alive, I would have come back for you. No matter what.” He swears, fiercely, emphatically.

Lan Wangji’s heart aches. A knot of worry loosens inside him, at that declaration that Wei Ying would have been there, and presumably will be there, for their children, but at the same time, it hurts to know that Lan Wangji himself wasn’t – wouldn’t be – enough for Wei Ying to return to. Meihua’s lower lip wobbles even as she tries to smile in answer, and before her tears can fall, Wei Ying starts kneading at her cheeks like an overly-affectionate cat, contorting her face into ridiculous shapes. When Meihua wrinkles her nose at the treatment, Wei Ying leans in and rubs their noses together, like a little bunny-kiss. It’s both ridiculous and sweet.

“Mama!” Meihua protests, squirming away. “I’m not a baby! Stop it!” She wails, even though her attempts to escape are half-hearted at best.

Wei Ying scoffs at her “No matter how old you get, even when you’re old and grey and wrinkly-” To emphasise his point, he pinches her cheek with one hand and tugs on a lock of her hair with the other. “-you will always be my precious little baby bunny.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agrees.

Meihua groans in abject disgust and finally succeeds in her quest to escape Wei Ying’s clutches. Wei Ying jolts against Lan Wangji, and he thinks he understands, from the aborted twitch of his hands, that Wei Ying is viciously suppressing the urge to hold on to Meihua and never let go. Lan Wangji recognises it because he suffers from the same problem in particularly emotional moments. As this is, for everyone involved.

Which is why he’s not surprised that instead of asserting her right to independence, Meihua only waits as long as she needs to be sure that Wei Ying isn’t going to accost her again before diving back in for another hug. Wei Ying goes boneless, slumping into Lan Wangji’s chest, and he wraps his arms around them both again, grateful.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying complains with absolutely no sincerity in his voice at all. It’s so familiar, and so long missed, that Lan Zhan feels momentarily overcome, and almost misses what Wei Ying is pretending to complain about this time. “-raised our Xiao-Xiang to be quite the little mistress! So bossy, even to a complete stranger, and no manners, no manners at all. Why, she didn’t even introduce herself before she was pestering me for stories, and telling me all about how unfilial she is, embarrassing her elders and provoking them!” He clicks his tongue, tutting and shaking his head as if in dismay. “Such a brat.” He scolds lightly, even as he dips his head to press a kiss to the crown of Meihua’s head, and making her little shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agrees, unabashed. Meihua lifts her head to offer them both her sweetest, most angelic smile, and Wei Ying crows with laughter.

“How shameless!” He cries, faux-scandalised, through a grin that’s just as blinding to Lan Wangji as Meihua’s smile. “Have you corrupted all the others, too? Are they all completely spoilt by now? Did you unleash a hoard of tiny trouble-makers on the perfect serenity of Cloud Recesses?” He wonders, tone sliding into something genuinely delighted.

The memories of the children’s first few years in the Cloud Recesses hurt, but it’s a clean ache, and Wei Ying’s words highlight the best of it, letting the pain of their collective grief ebb away into the background. Feihao’s unbridled disrespect, and Yinyue’s quiet, immovable defiance, and Sizhui and Renshou’s pranks, and Zaiji’s enthusiasm and curiosity, and of course Meihua’s playful irreverence. All of them a pebble dropped into the still waters of Cloud Recesses; disturbance, change.

Lan Wangji begins pulling together his thoughts and memories, wondering where to start, how to tell Wei Ying about all the things he would have been so proud of their children for, but before he can find the right place to start, Wei Ying gasps, and redirects his attention. “Wait, wait! Lan Zhan-!” He says, turning, one arm still curled instinctively around Meihua, the other coming to tug demandingly on Lan Wangji’s robe.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji prompts, when Wei Ying doesn’t seem about to explain by himself.

“Did I- Was that- At the- Why didn’t you say anything?!” Wei Ying demands, sounding genuinely distressed, even if Lan Wangji suspects he’s also playing it up. He has no idea what’s upset him, though, and his question is not enlightening. Something of that must show on his face, at least enough for Wei Ying to understand his confusion, because he abruptly explains; “The twins, Lan Zhan. They were right there, and I didn’t even-!” He chokes on the rest of the words, screwing his eyes shut and hiding his face in Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

Understanding dawns, and Lan Wangji relaxes. With that clarification provided, he turns his mind to how to answer Wei Ying’s question. “Wei Ying…” He says carefully. “You ran away from me repeatedly. I did not want to give them false hope.”

Wei Ying looks up to frown at him, but then his gaze slides out of focus as he puts the pieces together. He winces. “That’s fair.” He says on a sigh, and turns his face back into Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “I thought-” He begins, but he doesn’t need to explain, so Lan Wangji hums his understanding. There’s a moment where Wei Ying continues to hide, and then he springs upright again with a self-directed laugh. “Oh, this is going to be so embarrassing, Lan Zhan. I don’t think I have a face thick enough to see them after the way I behaved!”

Lan Wangji considers that to be entirely Wei Ying’s own fault, and given that he rather suspects Sizhui and Renshou won’t have a thought to spare for it when he tells them who ‘Mo-qianbei’ really is, he has very little sympathy for Wei Ying.

“What did you do?” Meihua asks curiously.

“Aiyah, you cheeky brat!” Wei Wuxian complains at her, pretending to scold her. Lan Wangji has seen him behave in such a way before, with Feihao when she was small and still just as bold as she is these days. He catches himself smiling, ever so faintly, and doesn’t bother to school his features back into placidity. “Didn’t I just say it was too embarrassing? And you want your poor mama to relive something like that just for your own amusement? Are you that eager to think ill of me? Cruel child! Wicked child!”

“Of course not!” Meihua protests, looking up at them both with wounded sincerity. Lan Wangji has never been able to convince himself that it’s false, even though, logically, he knows that it probably is. “Mama, I just want to get to know you! I’ve missed thirteen years worth of stories, Jie-jie has loads of stories and I don’t have any, and you’d deny me even one?"

Wei Ying gasps dramatically. “Low blow, A-Xiang!” He accuses through an approving grin. “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what happened-” Wei Ying cuts himself off to turn to Lan Wangji again. “Hey, Lan Zhan, was that their first unsupervised night-hunt?” He asks, and Lan Wangji wryly wonders if it was that obvious form their behaviour, or if Wei Ying is just that observant.

Given that he’d never so much as noticed the fact that he’d stolen Lan Wangji’s heart right from the beginning, Lan Wangji suspects the former. “Mn.” He says, and Wei Ying shakes his head and mutters something about ‘poor kids’. As much as Lan Wangji would love to remain exactly where he is, with Wei Ying in his arms, and listen to an experienced cultivator’s report on what happened at the Mo Estate and how well the juniors really did in dealing with a surprise threat, he knows he has a more pressing duty to see to.

It’s still difficult to push the words past his lips, and actually acting on it is nigh on impossible. “I’ll fetch them, and the others.” He states, and now that he’s said it aloud, he is honour-bound to act on it. He has always been a creature of duty, and as long as he doesn’t actually think about what he’s doing, he can force himself to unwind his arms from around Wei Ying and rise to his feet.

Wei Ying stares at him, and for a breathless second, Lan Wangji thinks he might be about to ask him not to go, but instead, all he does is nod an acknowledgement. Lan Wangji nods back, and then leaves, before his resolve weakens, and he stays anyway.

As he steps out of the jingshi, he can hear the cheerful patter of Wei Ying’s voice, the words indistinguishable, but the sound carrying, and he has to take a moment to just bask in the aching joy of it. Then he catches his breath, and assesses the most efficient way to gather the children.

Zaiji is likely to be in the back hills at this time of day, and the twins will no doubt be in the midst of writing their reports in the library with the other juniors. Yinyue is out on her own night-hunt, and it’s anyone’s guess where Feihao will be. Back hills, rabbit meadow, sparring ring, or perhaps she will have bullied her way into helping Xiongzhang and Shufu in dealing with the fierce corpse arm.

Lan Wangji decides that the library should be his first stop, since it’s rather close to the jingshi anyway, and then he’ll search for Feihao on his way to the back hills. He keeps his pace measured and allows himself to ponder exactly how he’s going to break this news to the twins. He cannot do it in front of the other juniors. Wei Ying’s behaviour showed a clear desire for secrecy in the matter of his identity, and Lan Wangji can understand why, given everything that happened before- before.

And while it’s good news, it’s also going to be overwhelming, and possibly hard to believe. He doesn’t want to give his sons any reason to fret, but he also doesn’t want to simply drop it on them out of the blue. He attempts to formulate several different openings as he walks, and by the time he’s reached the library, he’s still not sure he knows what the best approach would be. Sizhui and Renshou are exactly where he expected them to be, in the middle of a knot of quietly studious juniors who all look up when he steps inside. Several call out to him, none quite so loud as Jingyi, and Lan Wangji inclines his head to acknowledge them.

“Sizhui, Renshou. You may leave your reports until tomorrow; I have something I need to discuss with you.” He says, and watches them exchange worried looks with each other, and then Jingyi, before putting down their brushes and packing away their things.

“I’ll hold on to your reports for you.” Jingyi offers, which considerably speeds up the process, and then Sizhui and Renshou are joining him in the doorway, and then following him out to a secluded corner nearby. It’s not guaranteed privacy, not like the jingshi, but it will do.

“Is this about what you needed to discuss with Mo-qianbei?” Sizhui asks shrewdly.

Lan Wangji inclines his head, and finds himself, once again, struggling to find the right words. “He is not Mo Xuanyu.” He states finally, and both boys’ eyes widen.

“He’s not?” Sizhui asks.

“But then… he must have been… not Mo Xuanyu the whole time we’ve known him.” Renshou says tightly, staring very intently at Lan Wangji

Sizhui is shaking his head. “But he can’t be possessed, he was struck with Zidian.” He points out.

That is a question Lan Wangji entirely failed to ask Wei Ying, but in his defence, he hardly cares how Wei Ying came to be here, only that he is. “Mn.” He confirms. “You will have to ask him yourself if you wish to know how he came to be here. I did not.”

“That… isn’t what you wanted to discuss with him?” Sizhui asks carefully.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji confirms. “The matters I wished to discuss with him were… to do with his true identity.” He explains carefully, and he can see something like terrified knowing begin to dawn in Renshou’s eyes.

“Who?” Renshou blurts out. “Who is he?”

“It’s Mama, isn’t it?” Sizhui says, before Lan Wangji can say anything. He looks far more steady than Renshou, but his breathing hitches when Lan Wangji meets his gaze, as though he’s only managing to stay that still and steady and certain through immense effort.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji confirms, feeling the corner of his lips quirk up without his permission again. “It is Wei Ying.” He adds, just for the simple joy of being able to say it out loud and have it be true.

Sizhui turns and bolts. Towards the jingshi, Lan Wangji notes with some relief, but Renshou appears frozen to the spot, and when Lan Wangji looks at him, he swallows hard. “Why- Why was he trying to leave, then?” He asks, voice trembling.

Lan Wangji reaches out and puts his hand on Renshou’s shoulder, a comforting, reassuring grip. “He believed you all died in the Siege of the Burial Mounds.” He states, and Renshou swallows hard. In saying it out loud, however, Lan Wangji comes to a realisation that lightens his heart even more than it already was. “I believe he found any reminder of you… too painful to bear, and that included me.”

Renshou chokes on a sound that might have been a sob, then races after Sizhui. Lan Wangji watches him go, feeling a soft ache bloom in his chest. He wants to go with them, to return to Wei Ying’s side and never leave, but he soothes himself with the promise of later, and turns to continue his quest to find the rest of their children and deliver the good news.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian is half way through a dramatic retelling of his return to life to an enraptured A-Xiang when the door of the jingshi opens to admit Lan Sizhui, moving at a pace that is not quite a run. He stops when he catches sight of Wei Wuxian and A-Xiang, and any doubts Wei Wuxian might have had about his ability to identify the twins evaporates right then and there. That wide-eyed and wounded hopeful expression is all A-Yuan.

Everything remains frozen as A-Yuan stares. He opens his mouth a couple of times, but no sound comes out, and Wei Wuxian isn’t doing much better. His eyes sting all over again looking at this young man, who he last remembers as small enough to carry on one hip. If he thought watching A-Jie return from her two and a half years in Meishan was bad, it’s got nothing on this.

“A-Yuan.” Wei Wuxian manages to say finally, and A-Yuan’s tears spill over as he sucks in a breath that isn’t quite a sob. “Come here.” He says, and opens his arms. A-Yuan practically falls into them, just in time for A-Xi to appear behind him, expression wild. Wei Wuxian immediately frees up one arm, and A-Xi staggers down to join the hug.

“Mama.” He chokes out.

“Ah, Xiao-Xi, I’m here.” Wei Wuxian says, sniffing back his own tears to offer up a smile instead. It takes them a while to get the emotions out of their systems, and Wei Wuxian maybe sheds a few more tears in between moments of laughter as A-Xiang throws herself into the cuddle-pile and topples them all over onto the floor. It causes a twinge of something like guilt, this evidence of how much his children grieved him, but it’s barely noticeable through the joyous beat of alive alive alive that’s thrumming through his veins.

But soon enough, the tears slow, and the twins extricate themselves enough to sit up and wipe at their faces with handkerchiefs. Such neat, proper young men they’ve grown into. It’s both endearing and amusing, and Wei Wuxian pretends that that’s all, and he’s not near to bursting with pride at how well his babies have grown up. “What happened?” A-Xi demands, which is not a particularly clear question. Thankfully, before Wei Wuxian has to point that out, he goes on; “How are you here?”

It’s a good question, and not as simple as it first appears to be. “Body-offering ritual.” Wei Wuxian says thoughtfully. It’s the obvious, simple answer, but it opens up a whole host of other questions that he doesn’t have answers to. Mo Xuanyu had obviously been treated horribly, so Wei Wuxian can explain his resorting to sacrificing his soul for revenge, but why summon Wei Wuxian? And why was it that on the very day that Mo Xuanyu did complete the ritual that the fierce corpse hand showed up, very conveniently sparing Wei Wuxian from having to bloody his hands just to keep his soul from shattering?

But those are not questions to lay on his son’s shoulders, so he doesn’t ask them. Instead, he watches as A-Yuan and A-Xi glance at each other, understanding dawning between them. Then A-Yuan’s eyebrows furrow, just slightly, and A-Xi’s widen, and then something like sorrow touches them both. “What? What’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian asks, hating to see that look on their faces.

A-Yuan flushes faintly at being caught, but A-Xi is unabashed. “It’s kind of sad for Mo-qianbei, isn’t it?” He asks, mouth twisting.

“Not that we’re sad you’re back!” A-Yuan adds quickly, and Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh at how quick A-Xi is to shake his head in agreement. “But it’s still… A-Ling was very fond of him, you know, before…” He trailed off awkwardly, grimacing down at his lap.

“Oh, that’s right. He did something to Jin Guangyao?” Wei Wuxian asks.

The twins exchange looks, and Wei Wuxian’s hikes his eyebrows up in curiosity. “I don’t believe he got that far before Jin-zongzhu sent him back home in disgrace.” A-Xi says more bluntly than Wei Wuxian was expecting.

A-Yuan elbows him. “Be fair, Didi, he didn’t send him home in disgrace.”

A-Xi rolls his eyes. “It would have been better if he had. It’s only because he never actually said what Mo-gongzi did to get himself sent home that the Lanling Jin rumour mill turned it into such a stupid scandal.”

“So no one knows?” Wei Wuxian asks, scepticism twinning around his words.

Another look between the twins, and A-Xiang reaches her limit for their hedging before Wei Wuxian does. “Mo-qianbei liked Jin-zongzhu.” She tells him, with a teasing emphasis on the word ‘liked’, and the twins nod reluctantly.

Wei Wuxian considers that. “That’s either petty, prejudiced, or I’m right, and Mo Xuanyu is another one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards.” He states.

His pronouncement startles the kids, but within seconds, their surprise fades. “Mama is correct, of course.” A-Yuan says, his amusement leeching just a little of the filial piety out of his tone. Wei Wuxian decides to play along.

“Of course! I’m sure such good, filial children would agree that their Mama is very clever.” He all but demands, and there’s an amused murmur of assent from the three of them. “And very observant, and very wise, and very, very handsome, too.”

“And very humble.” A-Xi adds, polite and deadpan.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Cheek!” He scolds, reaching out to tweak his nose in reprimand, which makes A-Xi wrinkle it up in protest, leaning away, and Wei Wuxian’s heart nearly bursts with all the love filling it to bursting. “Anyway, yes, the people at the Mo Estate made some comments that, given Jin Guangshan’s reputation, made it sound like he was Mo Xuanyu’s father. I can understand why someone might not want to admit out loud that their half-brother had a crush on them, but still…” He frowns a little, tapping at his nose in thought.

“Mama!” A-Xiang whines, and Wei Wuxian blinks at her. “You never finished telling the story.” She reminds him, and Wei Wuxian brightens, pleasantly distracted.

“What story?” A-Yuan asks.

“The story of Da-ge and Er-ge’s first unsupervised night-hunt.” A-Xiang says sweetly. “It’s been very educational so far.” A-Xi glowers at her suspiciously, while A-Yuan closes his eyes and sighs softly. Then A-Xiang bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe Mama didn’t recognise you. Did he really throw an actual tantrum in the main hall? In front of everyone?!”

A-Yuan smiles faintly, but when Wei Wuxian catches his eye, he looks deferentially down at his lap, hiding any other signs of mirth. “Rolling around on the floor wailing and everything.” A-Xi confirms mercilessly, to A-Xiang’s great amusement. Wei Wuxian laughs along, because, really, it is pretty funny, looking back on it, and he’s never done shame very well.

“So what happened next?” A-Xiang prompts eagerly.

Before anyone can answer her, the door opens again, and yet more footsteps make their way through the hall. This time, Wei Wuxian doesn’t need help to recognise them. Even all these years later, with almost all the baby fat melted away, A-Jie looks like herself. She’s tall for a woman, and dressed in a white robe decorated with a barely-visible pattern of silver clouds that makes the vibrant red of her belt and under-robe stand out even more than her pale skin already does. It is somehow very Gusu Lan while still being provocatively Yiling Wei, and somehow also evoking Qishan Wen subtly enough that no one would be able to call her on it.

Her hair is up in a practical bun that sharpens her features, but they’re still the same ones he memorised on his first little bunny. A perfect blending of him and Lan Zhan, although, the resemblance to Lan Zhan is stronger right now, with the hard, irritated set of her features that fades when she spots her siblings sitting clustered around the table.

“Didi? Er-di?” She questions, giving them both a faintly amused look. “Shouldn’t you be finishing your reports right now? What’s going on?” Her gaze tracks over Wei Wuxian, who’s abruptly close to tears again, and of course, no real recognition dawns. “Who’s this?”

The twins share an alarmed look between them. “Baba didn’t tell you?” A-Yuan asks carefully.

A-Jie shakes her head. “I haven’t seen Baba since he got back. Lan-zongzhu did mention he’d brought someone back with him as well as that fierce corpse arm, though.” She goes on thoughtfully, eyeing Wei Wuxian with a confused sort of judgement.

“Uh…” The twins look helplessly to Wei Wuxian, clearly not sure how to break the news gently.

Wei Wuxian wipes his eyes and smiles. “Ah, you don’t recognise me this time, either.” He bemoans playfully. “Not that I can blame you. I do look a bit different this time, and it’s not like I’ve been able to send you any letters these last thirteen years.”

A-Jie frowns at him, annoyed and just a little unnerved. “Thirteen years.” She repeats through gritted teeth. Wei Wuxian blinks, taken aback by the sudden aggression. “Who the hell do you think you are?” She demands, hands curled into shaking fists.

“Jie-jie!” A-Xiang begins urgently. “Jie-jie, it’s Mama.”

A-Jie takes a step back, so instinctive it’s more like a flinch than any sort of deliberate retreat. “Xiao-mei…” A-Jie says in a voice that shakes. “That’s not funny.”

Wei Wuxian can feel his heart breaking, and he frantically tries to find something he can say to convince her. “A-Jie, my little lucky one, do you remember what I asked you, the last time I saw you?” He asks, smiling as best he can with his whole entire heart in his throat. A-Jie glares at him in a way that reminds him, briefly and with a pang, of Yu-furen, but her nod is jerky, uncertain and emotional, and it makes her wholly herself again. Wei Wuxian beams. “What on earth did I do to be blessed with such a disobedient, rebellious child, huh? Ignoring everything her poor Mama told her to do and going running off, leading all her younger sibling down a crooked path with her and saving their lives where her silly, arrogant Mama failed-”

A-Jie interrupts him with a choked off sob, a hand pressed over her mouth as her tears spill over. “I-” She gasps through her fingers, then shakes her head sharply. “I don’t- Am I dreaming?” She whispers.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, and A-jie takes a shaky, hesitant step forward. Unlike the twins, she doesn’t rush forward and tumble into Wei Wuxian’s arms, but comes one careful step at a time, before folding down to kneel in front of him, staring and crying silently the whole time. “A-Jie?” Wei Wuxian prompts quietly, worried when she simply continues to stare eyes flicking over his new face as though searching for features she’s not going to find.

“I-” She says again, and then chokes and shudders her way through a fresh round of sobbing. “I’m- I’m sorry, Mama, I tried to-”

Wei Wuxian can’t help himself. He cuts her off by reaching out and pulling her into him, hugging her tightly and shushing her like she’s still just a baby. “Shh, shh, no. What are you sorry for, hmm? What could my perfect little baby have ever done that she’d need to apologise to her Mama for, huh? It couldn’t possibly be for saving everyone, because that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

A-Jie lets out a wounded sound, and burrows into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, clutching at his robes in white-knuckled fists. “B-but I-” A huge, heaving gasp and another sob that sounds like it’s being pulled up from the very depths of her soul. “Xiao-mei nearly d-d-died!” She wails suddenly, and the rest is nearly incomprehensible through her tears. “-c-couldn’t- food…! And-and Didi-! M-my fault he- he- fever w-was so b-bad… and- e-everyone- Meimei g-got hurt, and I- I…! I tried, M-Mama, b-but-”

“No. No buts.” Wei Wuxian interrupts, because he can’t take any more of this. “A-Jie, Xiao-Jie, Baobao, you did everything right. I shouldn’t have asked so much of you in the first place, but you achieved the impossible anyway, and I’m so, so proud of you, and so, so grateful to have such a good, disobedient daughter. I don’t know where you get it from.” He jokes, attempting to lighten the mood before the serious emotions destroy him completely. He’s already crying his own tears into A-Jie’s hair, and if this keeps up, he’s going to be just as much of a mess as she is, and he’s cried more than enough today. He can’t stand it.

Thankfully, A-Jie does laugh at his terrible joke. It’s wrecked and hysterical but it’s a laugh, and Wei Wuxian will take it. Of course, a moment later her sobs return with a vengeance, and Wei Wuxian pulls her into his lap so he can rock her like she’s still five, instead of nineteen. He hums, because that was always his go-to solution when the kids were upset and he couldn’t fix it, ever since they discovered that music was about the only thing that could stop A-Luo from crying all night long.

It doesn’t help his sense of nostalgia, the way the twins crowd into him on either side, offering their own silent comfort, A-Yuan with gentle concern and A-Xi with belligerent worry. And then there’s A-Xiang, who Wei Wuxian didn’t have long enough with to get to know. He hadn’t even held her for an hour before he’d given her to A-Jie and never seen her again, so it’s something of a revelation to watch her now, wringing her hands and looking helplessly discomfited by her Jie-jie’s distress.

A-Jie doesn’t stop crying. It comes in waves, but every time Wei Wuxian thinks she must be too exhausted to keep crying any longer, it only takes a moment before she’s wracked by another rush. It breaks his heart, and he can’t help but wonder if she ever actually let herself grieve him at all before now. “It’s okay.” Wei Wuxian tells her, over and over again, every time she tries, through her tears, to apologise again. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re all okay, it’s okay now.”

“I w-was so scared, Mama!” bursts out of A-Jie after a long period of silence, and Wei Wuxian finds he’s capable of holding her even tighter than he was before, aching and guilty. “Nowhere was s-safe and- and I c-couldn’t trust anyone except Baba, b-because they all-” She cuts herself off, and her hands, already fisted in Wei Wuxian’s robes, tighten to the point that he suspects she’s torn the fabric. A moment later the sobs resume with greater intensity.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to be the Yiling Patriarch anymore, regrets a lot of his decisions in his old life, but in that moment, he thinks he could happily reign terror down on the cultivation world for doing this to his baby. For leaving her so alone and so scared for so long. Of course, then he has to recognise that he played a big part in that, too, and feels the weight of it settle over him, damping down any furious revenge plots before they can truly ignite.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, meaning it more than he’s ever meant it before in his life. “I never meant to leave you to carry all of this alone. I’m so, so sorry, Baobao. I’ve got you, you’re safe now, I promise. You’ve always been safe with your Baba, haven’t you?” He prompts, and A-Jie nods into his chest, even though the tears don’t slow. “See? We’ve got you.” He assures her, and she nods again and cries harder. Wei Wuxian winces, and goes back to humming, since that, at least, doesn’t seem to make it any worse.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji still has not located Feihao by the time he reaches the waterfall and the surrounding area his children have claimed as their own private playground. Zaiji is there, practising his archery, and Lan Wangji waits in the shadow of the trees for him to empty his quiver and lower his bow before drawing his attention away from his task.

“Baba! You’re back!” Zaiji cries, bounding over to him and only just skidding to a stop before crashing into him. “Did you see that? Three bullseyes in a row! I’m definitely going to be better than A-Ling next time I see him! He’s been bragging because Jiujiu promised to take him on his first proper night-hunt soon, and it’s not fair. Just because A-Ling’s going to be a sect leader and I’m not doesn’t mean he should get to go night-hunting before I do. I’m older than he is!” Zaiji whines, and is immediately distracted from his disgruntlement by his own train of thought. “Oh, how did Da-ge and Er-ge’s night-hunt go? Did they do well?” He bounces slightly on the spot in eagerness as the flood of words halts so that Lan Wangji can actually answer his questions.

“They did very well, despite several complications.” Lan Wangji states, and it’s as good a way to introduce the reason he’s here as any, so he doesn’t attempt to change the subject.

“Complications?” Zaiji asks, immediately concerned. “What happened? Are they alright?”

“They were not injured.” Lan Wangji assures him, and then considers how best to explain. “You should ask them yourself if you wish for details. The reason I came to fetch you is that at some point your mama was returned to life in the body of Mo-gongzi.”

Zaiji blinks up at him, expression frozen as he absorbs and processes everything Lan Wangji has just told him. It takes a moment or two, and when he finally shakes himself and opens his mouth, what comes out is not the question he was expecting. “Mo-gongzi? Not- Not A-Ling’s shushu? Xuanyu-xiong? The cutsleeve? With the cool arrays?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji confirms.

Zaiji frowns a little. “What happened? Did Mama possess him? That’s not very nice, Xuanyu-xiong was always really kind to A-Ling and he was really upset when Xuanyu-xiong had to leave, I don’t think he deserves to be possessed, even by Mama.”

“Not possession.” Lan Wangji can say that much for sure, given the lack of effect Zidian had on Wei Ying. He’s starting to suspect he should have asked Wei Ying for more details, but it’s too late for that, now. “You can ask him yourself.”

At that, Zaiji abruptly brightens. “Oh! Mama’s back! No wonder you look so happy!” He enthuses, and Lan Wangji realises that he’s been smiling, just a little bit, the whole time. “Have you told Jie-jie yet? She’s going to be so happy, too!” He bounces a little again, and then ducks his head bashfully and latches onto Lan Wangji’s sleeve like he hasn’t since he was eleven and insisting he was too old for things like that anymore. “Do you think Mama will be upset that me and Da-ge don’t really… remember him?” He asks much more quietly.

“No.” Lan Wangji says with perfect surety.

“Will… would he maybe help me with my archery? A-Ling says he heard that Mama was really good at archery. And do you think he’ll be proud of my talismans? Shugong said they were ‘adequate’ which coming from him means they’re really good, but Mama invented some of them, so maybe he won’t? And-” Zaiji is clearly working himself up to a full on ramble, and Lan Wangji, while still fondly amused by it, finds he doesn’t quite have the patience to indulge him that he usually would.

“I am sure your mama would be happy to.” He says, laying a light touch on Zaiji’s shoulder to ground him in the moment. “But why don’t you ask him yourself?” He suggests, and when Zaiji only bites his lip and looks nervously up at him, excited and hopeful and scared all at once, he firms his touch into a light guiding pressure. “Come.” He encourages, and Zaiji falls into step with him.

“What about Jie-jie?” He asks again.

“I was unable to locate her. I will tell her when she returns home.” Lan Wangji explains, and Zaiji nods. He falls quiet when they return to the more populated parts of Cloud Recesses, walking close enough to Lan Wangji’s side that their arms knock into each other on every other step. It draws Lan Wangji’s attention to the fact that Zaiji has failed to release his sleeve the entire time they’ve been walking, which is as sure a sign as any that he’s far more nervous about this than he’s comfortable expressing in public, and Lan Wangji picks up his pace, just a little, unwilling to leave his son floundering in uncertainty for any longer than is necessary.

As they step into the Jingshi, though, they’re met with the sounds of someone deep in the throes of distress. It’s not entirely unexpected, given the situation, but it is a little worrying, and Lan Wangji doesn’t slow as he guides Zaiji towards the source of the sound.

He freezes in the doorway, struck by a sudden, sharp sense of panic when he realises those desperate sobs are coming from Feihao. He can’t remember the last time he saw his eldest daughter cry, and never like this. Never so wholeheartedly, so deeply that it shakes her whole frame and the only reason she manages to stay more or less upright is because she’s cradled in Wei Ying’s arms as he rocks her like a baby and mumbles soothing nonsense into her hair. It cuts Lan Wangji to his core to see her hurting like this, to realise that she must have been hurting like this all along and never let it show.

That is a pain he tried so hard to spare his children from, knowing it and it’s consequences so acutely himself, and to realise he failed is a terrible weight only softened by the knowledge that Wei Ying, at least, seems to be able to mitigate the damage. In Wei Ying’s arms, at least, their little one feels safe enough to cry her heart out.

“Oh!” Zaiji says, quiet and stunned, and Wei Ying looks up.

“A-Luo.” He greets with a bright smile that’s only a little worn around the edges. “You really did grow up to look just like me, huh? Lan Zhan was sure you would, but I didn’t believe him. Poor Lan Qiren must have had terrible flashbacks once you got old enough to be in his class. Right, Lan Zhan?”

“Only to start with.” Lan Wangji replies, faintly amused by the wicked sparkle in Wei Ying’s eyes. He’s also relieved to note that the distraction is drawing Feihao out of her distress, and her sobs are softening into hiccups. “Zaiji is very reserved in public.”

“That he definitely gets from you, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying announces, as if anyone could have doubted that, but he sounds so pleased by the notion that Lan Wangji can’t help but feel it like it’s a revelation.

Then Wei Ying looks back down at Feihao, and his smile softens when she looks back, eyes red and puffy from her crying, her face a blotchy, tear-streaked mess, wisps of hair stuck all across her forehead and cheeks and even tangling in her eyelashes. “Feeling better?” He asks, and at Feihao’s tiny nod, he chuckles. “Aiyah, you’re such a mess.” He chides lightly, brushing her hair back and dabbing at her face with a corner of the handkerchief Lan Wangji had given him earlier.

“You’re one to talk.” Feihao retorts, a faint hint of a flush on her cheeks that she stubbornly ignores as Wei Ying laughs his agreement and finishes mopping her face with a tweak to her nose. Zaiji’s hand clenches in his sleeve, and Lan Wangji glances down at him, but Zaiji only has eyes for Wei Ying, something yearning and uncertain in his eyes.

Lan Wangji nudges him forwards, and when Zaiji glances up, wide-eyed, he tries his best to look reassuring. After all, if there’s one thing he’s certain of now it’s that their children need never fear for their welcome in Wei Ying’s life. Zaiji takes a few hesitant steps forwards, and of course, Wei Ying uncurls one arm in invitation.

Zaiji very nearly trips in his eagerness to dive into the hug, and Wei Ying holds him tight, pressing a kiss to his beribboned forehead. Zaiji nearly startles at the touch, and then breaks out into a glowing, brilliant smile despite the fact that his eyes are suddenly very shiny. “M-Mama?” He tries, stumbling a little in his uncertainty.

“Mm? What is it, A-Luo?” Wei Ying asks, as if it was a question. Zaiji flushes, and hides his face in Wei Ying’s shoulder, shaking his head to dismiss Wei Ying’s curiosity. Wei Ying looks startled for a brief moment before he laughs. “Aiyah, so shy, A-Luo. What’s this? Shame, from one of my little buns? Lan Zhan, how could you let this happen? I won’t stand for it, you hear me.”

“He expressed a hope that you would be able to assist him with his archery.” Lan Wangji informs him, since it appears Zaiji’s words have abandoned him for the time being. “I believe he has a competition with Rulan regarding the skill.”

“A-Ling?” Wei Ying echoes brightly. “You two are friends?” He asks, sounding unbearably hopeful. Zaiji nods wordlessly. “Good. That’s- that’s good.”

“We visit Lotus Pier regularly.” Lan Wangji informs him. “I thought… you would wish for them to know all of their family.” Wei Ying nods, smiling at him with such aching gratitude that Lan Wangji hardly knows what to do with himself.

“And…” Wei Ying grimaces, then sighs. “Jiang Cheng is… good to them, right? I know he’s still mad at me, he made that plenty clear already, but he’s not taking that out on them, is he?” He prompts, hopeful but uncertain, and Lan Wangji can’t blame him for that, after what he saw on Dafan Mountain. Feihao doesn’t help Wei Ying’s worries when the question prompts her to finally pull herself out of Wei Ying’s hold and seat herself somewhat more properly in front of him with a sharp scoffing noise. “Lan Zhan?”

“Jiang Wanyin has been good to the children.” Lan Wangji informs him, because lying is forbidden, even if he hates having to credit the man with anything. If he puts the smallest of stresses onto the words ‘the children’, well, Lan Wangji thinks he can be forgiven.

Wei Ying stares at him for a long moment, then looks to Renshou, and then to Feihao, and then back again with a pointedly raised eyebrow. “Okay, that’s good, so then what…?” He prompts, when Lan Wangji only stares back, unable to believe Wei Ying can’t figure it out for himself.

“He killed you, Mama!” Feihao bursts out, furious and incredulous. “And we’re just supposed to carry on and call him ‘Jiujiu’-” She spits the word with enough venom that Lan Wangji half expects her to have burned a hole in her own tongue. “-like nothing happened?! Meimei might be kind enough to forgive him for that, but I never will. Never.”

Wei Ying’s eyes are wide, startled by the amount of fury in her, Lan Wangji supposes. While Feihao was certainly a passionate child, she had been generally good natured and as quick to forget hurts as her mama. “A-Jie…” Wei Ying says, softening all over as he reaches out to her and cups the side of her face in his hand. She goes still, vibrating somewhere between rage and grief. He pauses there for a moment, just looking her over and smiling sadly before he shakes his head. “He didn’t.”

“What?” Lan Wangji’s voice is not the only one that asks that question.

Wei Ying shrugs carelessly. “I don’t know what he was planning to do once he reached me… I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did try to kill me after everything I did, but he didn’t get there in time. I lost control.” He offers a wry smile, like those three little words haven’t painted an absolutely horrifying picture of how Wei Ying died in Lan Wangji’s head.

“I don’t care!” A-Jie bursts out, startling them both. “I don’t care if he managed it or not- He shouldn’t have been there- None of them should have- We weren’t hurting anyone, we- They-”

“Ah, but that’s my fault.” Wei Ying says easily. “I did hurt people, A-Jie. A lot of people.”

“Only because they would not leave you in peace.” Lan Wangji pointed out, irritated by how easily Wei Ying was heaping blame onto his own shoulders.

Wei Ying shrugs again. “I’m not going to argue that, but, come on, Lan Zhan, even you thought I was being unreasonable. I remember those arguments, don’t tell me you don’t when I know your memory is better than mine. And by the end there…” Wei Ying trails off, something deeply pained flickering across his face before it’s hidden again behind a humourless smile. “Well, I really don’t blame Jiang Cheng for being that mad at me.”

It dawns on Lan Wangji slowly, where the root of that self-recrimination is buried. It was no secret among their generation that both Jiang Wanyin and Wei Ying adored their older sister, and regardless of what actually happened, that she got hurt at all on Wei Ying’s behalf would no doubt trouble him greatly. “How can you say that?” Renshou protests, horrified, but Lan Wangji barely hears him over the creeping realisation that, of course, Wei Ying doesn’t know.

“Ah, I don’t know how much you remember, A-Xi, but-”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji says, some urgency bleeding into his voice, enough to get Wei Ying’s attention immediately, and Lan Wangji realises that, once again, the situation calls for delicacy, and he has no idea how to navigate delivering news less than bluntly. So, blunt it is. He won’t let Wei Ying continue on under the misapprehension that he got his beloved sister killed. “Jiang Yanli survived.”

Chapter Text

“Jiang Yanli survived.”

Wei Wuxian can’t breathe. The hope is painful, but the disbelief is hard to banish. He saw Shijie die, he held her in her last moments. Although, he admits distantly to himself, he doesn’t actually remember that day very clearly. Or that entire week. He remembers very clearly the way Shijie had gone slack in his arms, blood bubbling at the corners of her mouth and staining the front and back of her robes. But he hadn’t actually checked to see if she was still breathing. If she still had a pulse. He’d just… lost it, and everything after that disappears into a black haze of madness.

“W-what?” Wei Wuxian manages to get out.

Lan Zhan repeats himself, but it still doesn’t feel quite real to Wei Wuxian. He just stares, caught between his own belief and the conviction that Lan Zhan wouldn’t lie to him. He wasn’t lying about the kids, and he can’t be lying about this, either.

“You thought Yima died, too?” A-Xiang asks, looking between her parents curiously. “Oh! Is that when she got stabbed?” She asks, pointing to, yes, exactly the location on her upper chest where Wei Wuxian remembers the tip of a cultivator’s sword coming out of Shijie’s chest. He swallows and nods. “Yima showed me the scar once.” A-Xiang explains. “I was upset because Jiujiu wouldn’t let me go swimming with the other kids because I was having a bad breathing day, and I felt left out, but Yima told me that she gets bad breathing days, too, because she got stabbed in the chest this one time, and then we went and wrote silly poems together.”

“Yima’s always really nice like that.” A-Luo agrees, and all the other kids nod avidly in agreement. “She would tell me stories about you whenever I asked.” He pauses to glance sheepishly at Lan Zhan. “I didn’t want to ask Baba because I knew it upset him a lot. And it always made Jiujiu angry, but Yima didn’t mind. Did you really melt a hole in a pot when Yima tried to teach you to cook?”

Wei Wuxian laughs, and if it comes out watery, he thinks he can be forgiven. “I did, I did, I-” He chokes, and looks back to Lan Zhan. “Really?” Lan Zhan nods, and Wei Wuxian can’t help but start to cry again. Hard, silent sobs that shake him right down to his bones, because it’s such a damn relief.

He’s immediately buried in hugs from all sides, and it shakes another wet laugh out of him. He tries to get his arms around as many of them as he can, and then realises that not only is Lan Zhan looking very lonely over there on the outside of their little cluster of limbs, but there also happens to be someone else missing too. “Wh-where’s A-Lian?” He manages to get out.

“On a night-hunt.” Lan Zhan tells him. “She is not due home for several days yet.”

Disappointing, but not entirely surprising. “After- after she gets back, I-”

Lan Zhan nods before he’s even finished. “We will go to Lotus Pier.” Wei Wuxian beams at him, and Lan Zhan smiles back, tiny but sincere. It makes Wei Wuxian’s heart do something funny in his chest.

There’s a moment of silence, peaceful, if tainted with exhaustion as all of the emotions of the past several hours begin to settle. Wei Wuxian honestly feels tired enough to sleep, and it’s still only late afternoon, he’s so wrung out from all the revelations of the day. “Is there anything else I should know?” He asks with tired humour. “Madam Yu was secretly alive the whole time? Wen Ruohan rose from the grave while I was gone?”

Lan Zhan actually has to think about it, and the pause almost makes Wei Wuxian cry again, from simple exhaustion, at the notion that there might actually be more world-changing news. “I do not believe so.” Lan Zhan finally says. “You have already met Rulan.”

Wei Wuxian nods, and then remembers he had a question about that. “How come he’s Jiang Rulan? I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, I just never would have thought Shijie would go for that, even though-” He stops, mouth twisting, then takes a breath and forces himself to finish the thought. “-even though Jin Zixuan is dead.” He pauses. “He… is actually dead, right?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan nods, and Wei Wuxian grimaces, swallowing back the guilt. “It was a difficult decision for her, and many factors contributed to her eventual resolve.”

“I think the second time someone tried to kill A-Song was the last straw though.” A-Jie puts in with a snort, and pretty much all of the rest of the kids nod along, looking various shades of upset or disturbed or uncomfortable.

“A-Song? Who’s that?” Wei Wuxian asks curiously.

“A-Ling’s cousin.” A-Xiang offers.

Wei Wuxian nods, before realising that actually doesn’t tell him very much. He raises a finger, and half the kids muffle laughs as Lan Zhan speaks before he can even ask. “Jin Qu, courtesy name Rusong, Lianfang-zun’s only child. He is two years younger than Meihua.”

“Two and a half.” A-Xiang corrects imperiously, and Lan Zhan nods indulgently.

“He’s really nice.” A-Luo interjects. “He always follows A-Ling around like a puppy, and A-Ling gets all puffed up about it, but that’s not Jin Qu’s fault, and he always laughs if I push A-Ling into the lake, so that’s okay. Sometimes he has bad talking days like Meimei and Yima have bad breathing days, and some of the other kids at Koi Tower bully him about it, which is stupid, because Jin Qu is actually really smart. His calligraphy is even better than mine or A-Ling’s, and especially Xiao-mei’s.”

“Hey!”

“Your calligraphy would be better if you practised.” A-Yuan points out with a faint smile that Wei Wuxian suspects is trying not to be a laugh.

“What’s the point? I can read it, and that’s all that really matters, anyway!” A-Xiang announces.

“If that’s what you think, you hardly have any grounds to be offended if someone else’s calligraphy is better, then.” A-Xi points out with a smirk. A-Xiang sticks her tongue out at him.

Wei Wuxian laughs softly at them all, more out of fondness than amusement and squeezes the ones still within arms reach, which is most of them. “So, someone tried to kill Jin Rusong? Why?” He asks, getting them back on track.

“The first time was because some asshole got offended by the watchtower project of Jin-zongzhu’s.” A-Jie tells him, in a tone of deep disgust. “Jin-zongzhu wiped out his whole sect for it, the hypocrite.” She adds bitterly, and Wei Wuxian can’t help but reach out to her, smoothing a hand over her hair and brushing a few strands back behind her ear, his heart aching. She leans into the touch and swallows hard. “Second time it was a succession thing. Some Jin cousin poisoned him. If they weren’t aiming for A-Ling, which I think they probably were, then they didn’t actually seem to care which kid they got. It’s a miracle Rusong survived.”

“After that, Yima made a formal announcement withdrawing A-Ling from the Jin succession, and took him back to Lotus Pier.” A-Xi concludes, the unspoken ‘where no one tries to murder children for power’ hanging loudly in the air.

Wei Wuxian frowns a little. It makes sense on the surface, at least, but… “That does make it seem like that poison was meant for A-Ling, huh?” He asks, looking up at Lan Zhan to see if he, having actually been around when it all went down, gets the same odd vibes from the story. He nods, just once, but it’s enough for Wei Wuxian to feel reassured that he’s not being paranoid. After all, given that Jin Rusong was the victim both times, wouldn’t it make more sense for Lianfang-zun to withdraw him from the succession, to safe-guard the child that was actually hurt? Shijie was not the sort of person to abandon any child to such dangers, so that meant she must have been sure that removing A-Ling from the situation would remove the danger to Jin Rusong, too.

He’s knocked out of his thoughts by a polite knock on the door that startles everyone except Lan Zhan, who rises smoothly to his feet and looks down at them all with faintly judging amusement dancing in his eyes. “Dinner.” He reminds them, and as one, the kids all scramble up eagerly. Wei Wuxian moves to join them, but Lan Zhan waves him back down again. Reluctantly, he sits back down, and simply watches with a fond sort of bafflement as organised chaos explodes through the jingshi as the kids relieve a trio of servants of the food they’ve brought and lay it all out on the table.

If Wei Wuxian had tried to imagine what sort of household Lan Zhan would run, this loud, cheerfully chaotic activity wouldn’t have been it. At least Lan Zhan himself isn’t so different from how he used to be, which makes him a pillar of stoic, serene calm like a rock sitting peacefully in the middle of a rapidly flowing river. And Wei Wuxian has a funny feeling that what he’s seeing isn’t even as loud or chaotic as it can be, since there’s been a lot of emotions happening, and A-Jie, at least, is probably just as tired as he feels.

Silence descends once the meal starts, which lasts about as long as it takes Wei Wuxian to notice that, while the majority of the dishes are exactly what he would have expected of Gusu Lan, there are also a couple of dishes that have a rather distinctive red tinge to them. Eagerly, he tries some, and gasps in delight as the food bites back. “Oh! It’s spicy!” He enthuses, and loads his bowl down with half the dish.

“Mn.” Lan Zhn confirms, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“Oh! Gimme!” A-Xi insists, reaching over the table to snag some of it before Wei Wuxian claims it all. A-Yuan pulls a face as the bowl passes under his nose. “We never have spicy food when we’re home.”

“Thankfully!” A-Xiang declares. A-Xi threatens her with a piece of red-covered tofu held between his chopsticks, and A-Xiang leans so far over that she’s basically sprawled out on A-Luo’s lap, which he promptly shoves her out of in his own attempt to avoid the food. “Eeeew!” A-Xiang wails from the floor. “Er-ge, stop! That’s disgusting!”

Wei Wuxian gasps again, this time in horror. “How could my own daughter say such a thing! Blasphemy! Scandal! I will bury you in the dirt until you grow a sense of taste, A-Xiang, just see if I don’t.” He threatens playfully, and gets a piece of blandly boiled carrot in the face for his trouble. “A-Xiang!” He yelps, not sure if he’s amused or genuinely a bit scandalised. He can’t believe Lan Zhan hasn’t said anything. He hasn’t even scolded them for talking at mealtime, never mind throwing their food.

A glance shows that Lan Zhan is blithely continuing to eat his own meal in perfect Lan-ish silence with perfect Lan-ish posture, with a distinctly un-Lan-ish gleam in his eyes when he raises his eyes and catches Wei Wuxian’s gaze. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian protests, bewildered and amused and faintly horrified. “Your daughter is throwing food, aren’t you going to say anything?”

Lan Zhan lowers his bowl back to the table and lays his chopsticks down carefully before answering, and then it’s only to offer a simple correction; “Our daughter.” He says mildly, and then goes back to eating in silence.

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes at Lan Zhan. “Oh, no, you can’t blame that on me!” He protests. “You raised them. Throwing food isn’t genetic, Lan Zhan, you- you-” Realisation dawns, and he gapes at Lan Zhan, who looks supremely unconcerned. “You’re a complete pushover, oh my god! You were never this bad before, I remember you scolding A-Jie and A-Yuan and A-Xi for talking during meals before! Why? Why are you like this now? You’re going to make me be the strict parent, aren’t you? That’s so mean, Lan Zhan! I can’t be the strict parent! I won’t do it! You can’t make me!”

“Do not speak during meals.” Lan Zhan states, which Wei Wuxian is pretty damn sure means ‘you don’t have to and I wouldn’t make you’, but is also so outrageous, given everything, that Wei Wuxian can only yelp his offence. A-Xiang doubles over with laughter, and that sets Wei Wuxian off, too, because really, the situation is too ridiculous.

The rest of the meal continues on in that vein, with the younger children loud and rowdy enough to make up for A-Yuan’s discreet attempts to adhere to the rules and A-Jie’s emotion-laden silence. A-Luo talks a mile a minute, and at least only occasionally does so while he’s also got food in his mouth, and A-Xiang seems to have no qualms about treating her food as projectile weapons whenever anyone says anything she disagrees with. A-Xi, in a startling turn-about from the painfully polite young man Wei Wuxian met in the Mo Estate, is loudly reactive and playfully acerbic, which appears to delight A-Xiang, even when she’s the victim of it.

And Wei Wuxian throws himself into the midst of it with reckless abandon, too desperately grateful to have the opportunity to waste a single second of it. By the time they’ve all eaten their fill, though, the chaos has dulled into something far more peaceful. It’s been a long day, and the kids are all flagging as evening closes in around them. Lan Zhan waves them all off when they, like good little buns, attempt to help collect the now empty dishes and bowls. “Bed.” He instructs, but gently, so it sounds more like permission than an order.

A-Xiang still whines, even through a yawn, and it takes a firmer look to convince A-Yuan to put the dirty dishes back down on the table, but in the end, they all go, trooping off deeper into the jingshi after taking turns to hug both their parents fiercely. Wei Wuxian watches them go with an aching fondness settling into his heart. “Ah, Lan Zhan. Thank you.” He says quietly, even though the words are inadequate in comparison to everything Lan Zhan has done for him.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan hums, and Wei Wuxian can’t tell if it’s an acknowledgement or a dismissal. Knowing Lan Zhan, it’s probably both, he decides, turning a fond smile on the father of his children. Lan Zhan rises and steps away, and Wei Wxian is just debating the merits of staying right where he is while he digests a fuller meal than Mo Xuanyu’s body has seen in a good long while or following after Lan Zhan to see what he’s up to, when Lan Zhan returns. He’s carrying a little white jug that he offers to Wei Wuxian before turning to the task of collecting and stacking the dirty dishes.

“Ah, I can help-” Wei Wuxian begins.

“Drink.” Lan Zhan instructs, in exactly the same way he’d sent the children to bed.

Wei Wuxian blinks, and then looks at the jug sitting innocently on the table in front of him. “Wait, Lan Zhan…” He begins, but Lan Zhan sweeps off to deposit the dishes outside for the servants to collect, and Wei Wuxian can’t wait long enough for him to come back to find out if his suspicion is correct. He unstoppers the jug and sniffs at it. The sweet tang of Emperor’s Smile fills his nose, and he gasps in delight, taking several deep gulps of the liquor and revelling in the even sweeter taste.

Lan Zhan returns, and there’s that smile flitting about at the corners of his eyes again, and Wei Wuxian beams up at him. “You really have become such a pushover, Lan Zhan.” He teases brightly.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan agrees, sitting primly and pouring himself another cup of tea. Then he pauses, and corrects; “Only for my family.”

The implications are all too obvious, and it warms Wei Wuxian even more than the alcohol, in a way he’s not entirely sure he deserves. “Ah, are you sure, Lan Zhan? I’m only going to bring you trouble in the end, you know. Not many people are going to be happy that I’m back, and we can’t really hide it for long. Not that I think we shouldn’t have told the kids, but they’re not going to be discreet, and once people start finding out-”

He cuts himself off as a warm, familiar hand lands over his own less familiar one, and he looks up at Lan Zhan again to find him frowning, a tiny line between his brows betraying his discontent with Wei Wuxian’s words. “I chose.” He states firmly. “I choose.”

It takes Wei Wuxian a long, frustrating minute to realise what Lan Zhan is talking about. But then he remembers their conversation on Phoenix Mountain, in that small period where it seemed like things might start getting better, and it makes him smile so hard his cheeks ache. Slowly, the giddy relief morphs into mischief as he recalls the exact terms they agreed upon that day. “Children… company… and…” He counts them off on his fingers, and watches in delight as Lan Zhan’s eyes turn dark with heat. He taps at his nose in faux-thoughtful puzzlement. “There was something else on that list, Lan Zhan, but I just can’t remember what it- Eep!”

Lan Zhan doesn’t wait for him to finish his teasing before hauling him up into his arms and carting him off to what Wei Wuxian desperately hopes will be a bedroom with silencing talismans on the door. He’s laughing too hard to check, but he trusts Lan Zhan not to disappoint him.