Chapter Text
It does not take long for Wei Wuxian to suppress his cold and he bounces back into himself easily. By the time Wangji returns, Wei Wuxian has already recovered. Lan Qiren’s life continues as usual. He returns to his day to day routine of quiet meditation, tea with the elders, reading, and teaching. Wangji’s cold shoulder to Lan Qiren continues, Wei Wuxian and Xichen continue their secret lunch meetings, and Jingyi and Sizhui are seen around Cloud Recesses less after they gain their certification to go on unsupervised nighthunts. If he didn’t know his spiritual power to be as high as it is, Lan Qiren might have summed up that night in the Jingshi as a fever dream.
Quietly, without raising a fuss, Lan Qiren removes the rule forbidding interaction with Wei Wuxian from the Wall of Discipline soon after Wangji returns from Changan.
And life goes on as normal. It takes no time for Wangji to reinstate Wei Wuxian as an instructor, just as quietly as Lan Qiren had removed the rule. No one questions the changes, easily welcoming Wei Wuxian back into the fold of Cloud Recesses’ daily activities.
Watching these non-changes unfolding before him, Lan Qiren is struck with a sense of uncertainty. It is the kind of uncertainty that plagues one for days, into weeks, months, years, and even decades until it is resolved.
It is the kind of uncertainty Lan Qiren has felt before, when his brother abandoned him for a worthless and undeserved love.
Back then Lan Qiren had found his comfort in the Wall of Discipline, and in its many rules. How else could he fathom what his brother had done? Qingheng-jun was supposed to be the most moral cultivator, the most upstanding human being. Lan Qiren knew that as an unshakable truth — until his brother ran off to perform the most immoral actions. To turn his back on everything he learned so easily, it must have been the consequence of not following the teachings. So Lan Qiren found comfort in the rules, drilling them into Xichen and Wangji, teaching them how to be their most moral, most righteous selves.
Until Wei Wuxian came by, eschewing all the rules that Gusu Lan had carefully refined over the centuries. And it was infuriating, how Wei Wuxian and his arrogance simply brushed off the rules as if the laws of nature itself did not apply to him. It was infuriating, but it was fine because Wei Wuxian met his end, ripped apart by his own heretical cultivation and half-insane from his resentful energy.
It is no longer fine.
Now that Wei Wuxian is somehow both a heretical cultivator and a moral person, Lan Qiren’s absolute faith in the rules has been shaken. The rules are supposed to guide morality, yet Wei Wuxian’s deep and genuine devotion to Wangji can’t be anything but moral. His actions, his violation of the laws of nature, are the most fundamental refutation of Gusu Lan’s family rules yet Wei Wuxian is not a fundamentally immoral person. Wei Wuxian has shattered every expectation, every standard, and Lan Qiren despises the uncertainty that he is left with.
All Lan Qiren can do is take solace in how Wei Wuxian has retained his talent for being deeply annoying.
To clear his thoughts, Lan Qiren pays a visit to the Ancestral Chamber.
Even though it is supposed to be a place of punishment and penalization, Lan Qiren enjoys spending long periods of time there. He sits at a desk in the corner. Its intended use is for Gusu Lan disciples to copy the rules as punishment but Lan Qiren enjoys the quiet stillness of the chamber.
It is soothing, to be surrounded by the spirits of his family.
And it is meditative, to seat himself at a desk with parchment and ink as he copies the rules from memory.
With the Ancestral Chamber being the sacred space it is, never before has anyone interrupted his time there.
Never, until the doors burst open and Wei Wuxian breezes into the room in a flurry of red and black robes.
“Lan Zhan is still upset with you,” Wei Wuxian says tactlessly as he seats himself in front of Lan Qiren’s desk without an invitation.
“I am aware,” Lan Qiren huffs at Wei Wuxian’s impertinence, deeply annoyed at the interruption and wholly offended at Wei Wuxian’s seeming lack of respect for the peace he has ungraciously disturbed. Still, rather than shooing Wei Wuxian out of the Ancestral Chamber, he carefully sets his brush down so that it will not drip ink everywhere.
He may not want Wei Wuxian in the Ancestral Chamber, but Wei Wuxian is now a member of Gusu Lan — and has been for over a year. With Lan Qiren’s blessing.
So he has no grounds on which to kick Wei Wuxian out, even if there is nothing he wants more than to ruminate on his thoughts — and his regrets — in solitude.
“What happened to your golden core?” Lan Qiren asks bluntly, not giving Wei Wuxian the chance to talk. He knows Wangji still holds a grudge and Lan Qiren is not interested in further ruminating on his own mistakes that led to the current circumstances.
Wei Wuxian freezes. His face flickers through several emotions, from shock, to defensiveness, to betrayal, before finally settling on defeat. “I might as well tell you,” Wei Wuxian mutters, not meeting Lan Qiren’s eyes. “Jiang Cheng was the only one who really was never supposed to find out, and he already knows.”
Lan Qiren raises an eyebrow. “What does your golden core have to do with Sect Leader Jiang?”
This time, Wei Wuxian doesn’t hesitate as he meets Lan Qiren’s eyes.
“I gave it to him.”
Wei Wuxian says these words without emotion, like they are a stale fact that is true but one that he wishes to distance himself from. He says these words like they are not a huge, massive deal, as if a golden core transplant is supposed to be possible and commonplace.
As if Wei Wuxian is reading the string of Lan Qiren’s thoughts, he adds “Jiang-shushu taught me to attempt the impossible,” he says as if that is an explanation. “So I did.”
Closing his eyes, Lan Qiren wishes he could stop knowing Wei Wuxian. To unknow Wei Wuxian would simplify his life immensely. But in his heart, Lan Qiren knows he wants no such thing. To genuinely know another is a privilege and knowing Wei Wuxian is no exception.
Thinking back to that night when they were all huddled in Lotus Pier, Lan Qiren remembers how Jiang Wanyin ran around like a madman, thrusting Suibian at anyone and everyone he came across. Like everyone else, Lan Qiren had attributed it to fury and fear of Wei Wuxian’s power at the time.
With this new information, the knowledge that Jiang Wanyin’s core is not his own, Lan Qiren begins to see that evening in a new light. Something, Lan Qiren assumes, must have transpired between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin that night. This something, Lan Qiren thinks, is something he does not need to know.
Finally, Lan Qiren slowly opens his eyes. He knows that Wei Wuxian, much like Wangji, has the capacity to out-stubborn him in a game of wills. “The point still stands,” Lan Qiren strokes his beard with shaky hands. “It should not be possible.”
“Anything is possible if you want it enough.” Wei Wuxian is still too calm, speaking of his golden core the way another person might speak of his dinner.
“Spiritual energy dissipates in the absence of a host. The energy is too unstable without a core.” Lan Qiren thinks back to how his spiritual energy could do very little for Wei Wuxian without a tether.
Wei Wuxian fidgets with the fold of his outer robes, the first indication of his discomfort. “With a skilled doctor and a motivated researcher, it can be made possible,” he says, his expressions carefully smoothed over so as not to expose too much. Only his eyes betray him, overflowing with emotion.
“No physician would do such a thing,” Lan Qiren protests weakly. It is not that he does not believe Wei Wuxian. It is just simply that he struggles to wrap his mind around the idea: not only is a golden core transplant possible, there would be someone selfless enough to willingly undergo such a procedure. He rests his shaking hands on the desk, relieved that he had the foresight to set his brush down earlier.
“Correct. No physician would,” Wei Wuxian murmurs in agreement. “Unless,” he continues, crinkling the folds of his robes in his fists, “that doctor was in your debt.”
Suspecting that he already knows the answers, especially given Wei Wuxian’s relationship with the Wen Remnants, Lan Qiren still has to ask, “Wen Qing?”
“The greatest doctor of our generation,” Wei Wuxian says with an empty smile, infuriatingly blasé. “Fifty-fifty chances aren’t bad.”
“It was experimental,” Lan Qiren says, his horror growing and growing unendingly. His mind connects more dots, suddenly understanding where Wei Wuxian’s knowledge of non-spiritual medicinal herbs comes from, of anaesthetic herbs especially. “It is uncompassionate and inhumane to subject a patient to such treatment.”
“And I begged her to do it.”
“Why would you do that?” Lan Qiren asks, no longer trying to hide how his hands shake. He remembers Wei Wuxian as a guest disciple, ranking fourth in the list of eligible masters and loudly boasting about his talents in his youthful arrogance. That Wei Wuxian is a far cry from the Wei Wuxian sitting before him today, coreless and selfless. Both Wei Wuxians are difficult to reconcile with a third Wei Wuxian, begging a Wen doctor to remove his golden core. “A golden core is a cultivator’s pride. There is no cultivation without a golden core.”
With a sad smile, Wei Wuxian’s explanation is simple. “It was what I owed.”
Simple, but cutting. Lan Qiren presses his hand against his chest, shuddering, having felt the quiet conviction behind Wei Wuxian’s words.
“To perform the impossible?” Lan Qiren shudders, wondering how deeply ingrained the Yunmeng Jiang motto was in Wei Wuxian for him to ceaselessly achieve the impossible, over and over again.
Yet Lan Qiren is not surprised when Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “To protect Jiang Cheng with my life.”
And it crashes upon Lan Qiren that no, Wei Wuxian never really had a choice. Not when that was the duty he had been charged with, by the family who took him in. A debt he never felt like he could repay.
Wei Wuxian is still smiling that sad, empty smile when he says, “The cultivation world never really wanted me anyway.”
“The purpose of the medical profession—” Lan Qiren is cut off by Wei Wuxian.
“Wen Qing helped without material gain, at huge risk to herself. She didn’t kill me and she saved Jiang Cheng’s life. She didn’t do it for fame,” Wei Wuxian easily counters each of the standards of medical ethics.
“Surely there is a standard against tampering with a cultivator’s golden core.” As he says this, Lan Qiren knows there are none, having already racked his mind for the tenets of medical ethics.
“Wen Qing did nothing wrong.” Wei Wuxian releases his robes, dropping his hands on the table. His movements are not hard, but Lan Qiren still startles at the resultant thump. “And everything she did for me came at a huge cost to herself.”
Looking down at the rules he had been in the middle of copying, Lan Qiren allows the silence to settle betten him. Love and respect yourself, Lan Qiren reads the last lines he wrote, the characters boldly screaming up at him.
“It is important to love and respect oneself,” Lan Qiren says, lowering his shaking hands onto his lap.
Wei Wuxian remains silent but his gaze also drops to the text.
“You chose to mutilate your body further by going down the heretical path. You know what resentful energy does to bodies with strong golden cores, how even spiritual energy cannot purge a body of resentful energy if that energy is used regularly. Your body, without a core, never had a chance. What would Cangse Sanren say if she knew how much her son mutilated the body she gifted him?“ It is a low blow, to bring up a mother Wei Wuxian barely remembers. Lan Qiren regrets his wording when Wei Wuxian curls into himself further, but not enough to take the words back.
The words may be harsh, but so is being a demonic cultivator. The choice to go down the heretical path is not one to be made lightly.
“The absence of a golden core does not make demonic cultivation an acceptable choice,” Lan Qiren says in what he hopes is a less accusatory tone, after Wei Wuxian does not respond.
Again, Wei Wuxian remains silent, picking at the threads of his dark robes. Just as Lan Qiren is about to say something else to prompt a response, Wei Wuxian speaks. “It wasn’t a choice,” he says quietly, without looking up from his knees.
“There is always a choice,” Lan Qiren counters, confused. “One chooses whether or not to resort to resentful energy.”
“No.” Wei Wuxian says this with a frightening amount of conviction, chilling Lan Qiren. He is not scared of Wei Wuxian, not when he is surrounded by his ancestors in his own home and Chenqing is nowhere to be seen. He is not scared, but Lan Qiren is deeply unsettled by the dark undertone Wei Wuxian’s voice has taken.
“No?” It is one of the rare occasions where Lan Qiren’s practiced self-restraint and self-control is pushed to a breaking point.
“No.” Wei Wuxian says again, raising his head to face Lan Qiren. His silver eyes are dark and anguished, reliving unwanted memories that not even his terrible memory could fully erase. “If it was my choice, I would have found a battle to die in. Just another war casualty, to be tallied with the rest, and no one would be the wiser.”
Here, Lan Qiren bites his tongue. Just barely, because how could Wei Wuxian simply carelessly throw away his life, as if life had no value? As if life were not itself a divine gift to be cherished? But he forces himself to hold his tongue, knowing that Wei Wuxian will retreat into himself at the slightest interruption.
“Wen Chao couldn’t even let me die properly,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. His shoulders shake, exposing the difficulty of his words. “He threw me in the Burial Mounds, thinking my soul would be ripped apart by the resentful energy. Jokes on him,” Wei Wuxian chuckles darkly, causing Lan Qiren to shudder. “I couldn’t do that to Shijie or Jiang Cheng — die without them knowing. Resentful energy kept me alive long enough so I could repay Wen Chao for what he did to Lotus Pier, to all our disciples, to Madam Yu, and to Jiang-shushu. Everything after the Sunshot Campaign is on me, but learning how to cultivate resentful energy? That was never my choice.”
A tenseness has settled in the chamber and Lan Qiren is scared to even breathe too loudly, terrified that he will uncover yet more of Wei Wuxian’s secrets. Wei Wuxian is staring through him, eyes still dark and unseeing as he relives his experience. With a heavy heart, Lan Qiren watches Wei Wuxian struggle to come back to himself, unsure of what he could say or do to bring Wei Wuxian back into the comfort of the present.
Wei Wuxian’s shoulders tremble dangerously and Lan Qiren wants to do something that will bring Wei Wuxian some comfort. But he is not Wangji, who is so attuned to Wei Wuxian’s every need, nor is he Xichen, who has always easily offered comfort to those seeking it. Lan Qiren simply sits there, watching Wei Wuxian wage his battle against his own demons.
Outside the Ancestral Chamber, a band of junior disciples pass by, giggling over a story someone told about Wangji’s rabbits.
Alarmed at the sound, Wei Wuxian’s head flashes towards the entrance before his mind registers the source of the voices. This movement breaks the tense stalemate that had settled between them, allowing their minds to return to the present. Wei Wuxian blinks slowly, clearing the images from his sight.
“What I came here to say,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, making Lan Qiren look back up at him, as if he had not said anything about Wen Chao and the Burial Mounds — as if the resultant episode had not happened at all, “is that Lan Zhan is still upset with you.”
“I am still aware,” Lan Qiren glares, echoing his words from earlier. There is no heat in his glare, he simply glares out of habit. He allows Wei Wuxian to guide the conversation into lighter topics even as his stomach is still churning, stuck on imagining how difficult — how soul-crushing — Wei Wuxian’s experience alone in the Burial Mounds must have been. His chest burns, trying to reconcile the series of impossible choices that Wei Wuxian had been forced to make.
“But!” Wei Wuxian interrupts quickly before Lan Qiren can redirect the conversation again, waving his arms to keep Lan Qiren’s attention. “Lan Zhan wants to talk to you.”
Interest piqued, Lan Qiren’s gaze softens. “What does Wangji wish to speak about?”
Pausing, Wei Wuxian’s eyes bounce around from left to right, looking vaguely guilty. “I didn’t ask,” Wei Wuxian admits, pursing his lips. “If Madam Yu taught me anything, it is that it’s not my place to interfere in others’ families.”
Wei Wuxian’s words only raise more questions, but Lan Qiren decides to pursue none of them. Instead, he says, “Your husband’s family is also your family.”
The surprised but pleased smile that Wei Wuxian gives his heart some much needed warmth, especially the rollercoaster of emotion it had just gone through.
“Lan Zhan will be in his office all day tomorrow,” Wei Wuxian says, still smiling, as he picks himself off the ground. His arms are still shaking and his steps are laboured, but Lan Qiren does not comment, trusting Wei Wuxian to find Wangji and trusting Wangji to take care of his husband. After bowing, Wei Wuxian moves to leave the Ancestral Chamber, leaving Lan Qiren to his lines.
Just before Wei Wuxian steps outside, Lan Qiren calls out, “Wei Wuxian.” He waits for Wei Wuxian to turn around before he continues. Meeting Wei Wuxian’s questioning gaze, Lan Qiren says, “Your methods are unforgivable, just as they have always been.”
Lan Qiren’s heart twinges when Wei Wuxian looks at him with crushed resignation. Tired, and even a little hurt, but resigned. Visibly deflating, Wei Wuxian’s shoulders hunch over and his gaze drops.
“But,” Lan Qiren adds quickly, softer, as if he can’t decide whether or not he wants Wei Wuxian to hear his words. “I understand,” he says, bringing a small smile back to Wei Wuxian’s lips.
As he says this, his long sleeve drags over the brush that he so meticulously set down earlier. With the momentum from his sleeve, the brush rolls over Lan Qiren’s elegant calligraphy, smearing a dark, thick line of ink and ruining the scroll.
Lan Qiren pays it no mind.
For the first time in many months, Lan Qiren steps into Wangji’s office.
Just as he always has, Wangji is sitting at his desk and reading through a stack of paperwork. A couple orchid stalks sit in a vase on the corner of the desk, brightening the room with its vibrant purple petals.
“Wangji,” Lan Qiren says, taking his seat at the desk opposite Wangji.
“Shufu.” Wangji stares at the document before him, finishing reading the page first before he faces Lan Qiren.
Neither of them speak.
Through the windows, streaks of sunlight brighten the room, dusting everything in a soft warmth.
The silence between them stretches on, both unwilling to make the first move. The only sound is the brush of Wangji’s long sleeve scraping against the wooden surface as he moves his arm. Beside him, a tea set rests on a tea stand, undoubtedly prepared by Wei Wuxian.
Just as Lan Qiren is about to cave, Wangji speaks. “You have spoken to Wei Ying,” he says in a practiced disinterested tone.
Realizing that Wangji has waited him out of purpose, letting the silence stew between them to unsettle him, Lan Qiren frowns disapprovingly.
“I have.”
“You have removed the rule forbidding interaction with Wei Ying from the Wall of Discipline.”
“I have.”
“Do you regret your mistreatment of Wei Ying?”
At this, Lan Qiren stiffens because he cannot say that he regrets his actions. Knowing what he now knows about the factors that pushed Wei Wuxian into his choies, it is true that he was unfair to him. Yet, with the knowledge he had at hand previously, his concerns over Wel Wuxian’s decision to follow the heretical path, to desecrate the dead, to arrogantly take on the entire cultivation world — his concerns were not unfounded. When he could not be sure of Wei Wuxian’s morality, of his righteousness, it was not wrong for Lan Qiren to judge Wei Wuxian with suspicion.
Even if his concerns were largely unfounded, and even if Wangji and Xichen were not wrong to defend Wei Wuxian’s secrets, Lan Qiren’s caution is not unjustified.
Instead of answering, Lan Qiren counters with his own question.
“When did you know?” Lan Qiren clasps his hands together, resting them on the table.
Wangji pauses, as if he is unsure whether or not to answer. Hurt and offense bubble in Lan Qiren’s chest at Wangji’s hesitation, at Wangji’s distrust, but he ignores the feelings.
Finally, after several long seconds of private deliberation, Wangji answers. “Lotus Pier.”
Lan Qiren’s brows rise. “After the Burial Mounds?”
Wangji nods once and reaches for his tea.
Lan Qiren watches the movement with more than a little bit of jealousy. It has been several months since he has been given the opportunity to enjoy tea brewed by Wei Wuxian.
“You were unsure of his innocence at the Nightless City.” He blinks slowly, the bits and pieces of Wangji’s relationship sliding into place. It dawns on Lan Qiren that he will never fully grasp the depths of Wangji’s love.
But all Wangji says, as he refills his teacup, is, “Wei Ying is Wei Ying.”
“And what does that mean?” Lan Qiren eyes the teacup.
Wangji takes another long, drawn out sip of tea before he answers. “It means that Wei Ying is Wei Ying,” Wangji repeats, his gaze drifting towards the pair of orchids. “Wei Ying is reckless, but Wei Ying does not act without due cause. His reasons are not always clear, nor are his methods the most orthodox, but the intent is pure.”
“Back then, how could you know?” Because Lan Qiren is correct. Back then, Wei Wuxian was a hot-blooded, arrogant youth who spewed blasphemous theories because he could. Back then, Wei Wuxian was a menace who challenged orthodoxy because he knew of his own talents and was all too happy to show them off.
Now, Wangji swallows. In a break from his carefully cultivated and unreadable poise, Wangji seems...not ashamed, because Wangji has proven himself to be shameless time and time again when it comes to Wei Wuxian. So, not ashamed, but something humbled, as though Wangji knows his actions were indefensible and will not do either of them the disservice of pretending they can be defended.
Looking directly at Lan Qiren, not hiding anything, Wangji says, “I did not know.” His voice is clear and steady.
Having known this from the start, Lan Qiren sighs in resignation.
“You stood by Wei Wuxian even when you could not be sure of his intentions? Of his goodness?”
“I believed in Wei Ying. Not always enough, and often too late, but I believed in Wei Ying,” Wangji says emphatically. His eyes flash briefly in anger before he remembers himself. “I will not pretend that my choices are justifiable, nor will I do Wei Ying the disservice of pretending that his past is not clouded with immoral judgements. Wei Ying has also made choices that are unexplainable and cannot be justified. There are thousands of souls that will never see rebirth as a consequence of Wei Ying’s cultivation. Although the circumstances are sympathetic, these are choices that Wei Ying has made for himself. I support him as my spouse, as the one who knows me best, and I accept his shortcomings as easily as I accept his strengths.”
It is easily the most Lan Qiren has ever heard Wangji say in one sitting and it is not a surprise that it is to support Wei Wuxian. Lan Qiren almost smiles as he strokes his beard approvingly. “You have grown into a fine cultivator, Wangji.”
Wangji blinks. “Shufu?”
“You know what you stand for,” Lan Qiren says. He offers no other explanation as he allows his eyes to wander.
In the months since Lan Qiren’s last visit, Wangji has done some redecorating of his office.
Paintings have been plastered on the walls. They are innocuous depictions of flowers, of nature, even a few scenes Lan Qiren can identify as from within Cloud Recesses’ peaks. There is even a painting of Wangji’s rabbits, all gathered in the Back Mountain. These are images that are deeply private, yet wholly inconsequential to those who do not know. Lan Qiren recognizes Wei Wuxian’s brushwork — he has spent his fair share of time lamenting Wei Wuxian’s penchant for leaving doodles in the margins of his essays as a student. Wei Wuxian’s art has changed, from one life to the next, but Lan Qiren still recognizes the haphazard strokes Wei Wuxian leaves on the page. Lines that should not work, yet somehow meld together into beautiful images.
They are little, frivolous things with no practical purpose and stand out from the general preference in Cloud Recesses for simplicity. But, like Wei Wuxian’s presence in the Jingshi, they do not interfere with the fengshui of the room, nor are they eyesores. And, as Lan Qiren is loath to admit, it is almost endearing how Wangji allows his devotion to Wei Wuxian subtly permeate into every aspect of his life. Shameless, certainly, and cloyingly sentimental, but Lan Qiren does not have it in him to begrudge Wangji for finally finding his happiness.
A ruffling sound pulls Lan Qiren’s attention back to Wangji, who is moving the document he had been reading to the side.
Looking back up at his uncle, Wangji asks, “Why did Shufu change his opinion on Wei Ying?”
“Is it so unfair to protect the youth from bad influences when I could not be sure of Wei Wuxian’s morals?” Lan Qiren holds up a hand when it looks like Wangji is about to argue. “I am no longer saying Wei Wuxian is a poor influence. Adjustments to the Wall of Discipline are not made lightly.”
“Neither are additions,” Wangji says drily.
“Wangji,” Lan Qiren says, lightly chastising, “there is no one still in the living world who knows Wei Wuxian as well as you and no one who can understand Wei Wuxian the way you do. It is unfair to expect others to see Wei Wuxian the way you do when there is no one who knows Wei Wuxian as you do.”
Narrowing his eyes, Wangji says in a vaguely accusatory tone, “You still do not approve.”
Lan Qiren simply shakes his head. “I do not approve of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation. I will never approve the needless slaughter of resentful souls and you cannot ask that of me. Suffering in life should be treated with care, not exploited for personal power. It is why suppression and elimination are only acceptable once liberation has failed. The cultivator cannot be separated from one’s cultivation. But,” Lan Qiren pauses, reaching out to move Wangji’s orchid vase a couple centimetres into the sun. “Approval is not needed for acceptance of one’s family.”
“Shufu?” Wangji blinks at Lan Qiren, eyes shining with hope.
“Achieving the impossible is a lonely path.” Lan Qiren unclasps his hands, allowing himself to show Wangji a more vulnerable side. “Unpredictability begets instability.”
Wangji nods. “There are few who are willing to stand by a partner who will outshine them in every way.”
In an uncharacteristic move, Lan Qiren allows himself to audibly snort. “You are allowing yourself to fall victim to Wei Wuxian’s arrogance.”
“Outward arrogance does not negate inner purity,” Lan Wangji’s lip curls up in what is almost a wry smile.
With that, silence settles between them once again. It is not tense, nor manipulative. It is silence in the way that Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji have always preferred to work in the stillness of quiet. It is like a suspended reality, where it is only them and their thoughts.
One of the orchid leaves quiver, shaking the entire stalk. The other stands sturdy, unmoved by the temporary disturbance.
It is Wangji who breaks the silence when he asks, “Would Shufu like some tea?”
And Lan Qiren does not quite smile — he is too jaded to perform such frivolous acts of comfort. But he gives Wangji a soft look, one he has not given since Wangji was still a child.
“Please.”
In the serendipitous silence of Wangji’s office, they enjoy the longjing tea that Wei Wuxian steeped to perfection.
“Lan-shushu!” Wei Wuxian chirps, greeting Lan Qiren from his seat at the head of the Lanshi.
The students have only just filed out of the class when Lan Qiren enters. The desk at the front of the room, reserved for the teacher, is surrounded by used talismans. There is a small stack of unused talismans on the desk and a small mountain of used, crumpled talismans on the ground. It is the messiest aftermath and most wasteful class Lan Qiren has ever seen.
“You have had a productive class,” Lan Qiren comments drily, stopping before he reaches the mess.
“Don’t worry,” Wei Wuxian flutters around, searching for stray talismans, notes, and brushes left behind by his students. He does not find much — Gusu Lan’s children are taught to treat their belongings with respect from a young age. Only a single brush has been left behind. “No one will be raising a fierce corpse army anytime soon.”
A little cross-eyed turtle plush rests on Wei Wuxian’s desk, allegedly to inspire the youth to work hard. The Xuanwu of Slaughter is dead, but the Azure Dragon of Bloodlust remains.
In the weeks since Lan Qiren spoke to Wangji, they have settled into a new rhythm.
Cloud Recesses remains unchanged, the day to day activities being carried out just as they always have. Lan Qiren still has his morning tea with the sect elders, Jingyi and Sizhui still go on nighthunts, Wangji is the still Chief Cultivator and acting Sect Leader, and the jars of spices in the kitchens are regularly replenished.
Lan Qiren’s weekly meetings with Wangji have resumed, and Wangji has returned to seeking out his uncle for advice. Wei Wuxian still has his lunches with Xichen and they continue to make progress on both fronts: Wei Wuxian on his musical tethering of Empathy and Xichen on his expansion of the Songs of Clarity.
It is a new routine that they have settled into and Lan Qiren is loath for it to change.
“I should hope not,” Lan Qiren huffs. Wei Wuxian knows Lan Qiren still disapproves of his cultivation, Lan Qiren knows that Wei Wuxian will continue to use demonic cultivation until he can develop a new substitute for a golden core, and they have both learned to accept the others’ choices.
Bent over, Wei Wuxian picks up his used talismans into a box. “Does Lan-shushu need something?”
“I just spoke to Wangji,” Lan Qiren clasps his hands together behind him. “He intends to spend several months of the next year outside of Gusu.”
Without looking up, Wei Wuxian nods. He is surprisingly efficient, at cleaning up his used talismans. “We’ve talked about it. Lan Zhan is good at paperwork, but he’s a warrior before he is a diplomat.”
“Wangji has duties here. They cannot be dropped simply because he has caught a taste of the wandering bug. Even warriors must learn to put down their swords.”
Dropping the last of the crumpled talismans in the box, Wei Wuxian sets the box on the table.
“Lan Zhan isn’t going to stay Chief Cultivator forever,” Wei Wuxian says. His tone is mild, but the words cause Lan Qiren to see red.
Gritting his teeth, Lan Qiren snaps, “Wangji has a responsibility to his Sect. He cannot drop them on a whim.”
Shaking his head, Wei Wuxian remains on the ground as he calmly placates Lan Qiren. “Not a whim. Xichen-ge has been slowly coming out of seclusion and taking on more and more of Lan Zhan’s roles. Most of the paperwork is done by Xichen-ge now,” Wei Wuxian pauses to blow a stray tuft of hair out of his face. “Lan Zhan only does the face to face meeting part now. You know, the one part of the job that Lan Zhan definitely should not be doing.” Wei Wuxian remains on the ground, surveying the Lanshi for any stray items he missed.
“Wangji has been doing a fine job in his position,” Lan Qiren says stiffly, clenching his hands into fists.
Pausing his search, Wei Wuxian looks up at Lan Qiren with an unreadable look. “Last week, I had to mediate a discussion between Sect Leader Yao and Lan Zhan because Lan Zhan said, and I quote, ‘one should not be boastful of one’s inadequacies’. Perhaps Lan-shushu disagrees, but I consider driving another Sect Leader towards a qi deviation to be a weakness in a Chief Cultivator.“ Wei Wuxian says this in a peaceful, placating tone. It is mockingly diplomatic.
Lan Qiren’s flushes. “One instance of conflict does not define Wangji’s tenure. He is exceedingly well read and exceptionally productive at carrying out reforms.”
Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Yeah, sure, you don’t need to convince me that Lan Zhan is the best. But everyone hates him.”
“Wangji is a highly respected cultivator,” Lan Qiren’s voice hardens as he begins pacing.
But Wei Wuxian is unbothered as he moves across the room to pick up a stray scroll forgotten by one of his students. “Sure, but being respected isn’t the same as being liked.” Turning to face Lan Qiren, Wei Wuxian gestures at himself. “People begrudgingly respected me during the Sunshot Campaign but no one liked me. Lan Zhan could barely even stand me.”
Lan Qiren would beg to differ — Lan Wangji was still madly in love with Wei Wuxian throughout the Sunshot Campaign, but that is not what they are here to discuss.
Sighing in resignation, Lan Qiren straightens the folds in his sleeves. “And where will you go, once you no longer have responsibilities in Cloud Recesses?”
“Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian answers automatically. It is clear that this is something that he and Wangji have discussed for a long time, a longer term plan than Lan Qiren had given them credit for. “Jiang Cheng and I haven’t really spoken since the Guanyin Temple. Of course I’ve seen him at conferences, but there are things that should be said away from the prying ears of others. There are explanations that I owe him, stories he needs to get off his chest, and some things we both need to say.”
And Lan Qiren nods, understanding. He still does not fully understand the depth of the tangled threads connecting Wei Wuxian to Jiang Wanyin, nor does he ever want to know. But he does understand the remnants of a duty Wei Wuxian still has to Yunmeng Jiang, and he can imagine how the bond between martial brothers as close as Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin had once been is difficult to bury.
“Will you stop by Laoshan?” Lan Qiren asks, remembering a conversation he had with Sect Leader Gong over Wei Wuxian’s good deeds. “Sect Leader Gong spoke well of you.”
“Perhaps,” Wei Wuxian muses. “It can’t hurt to check up on Laoshan’s lake.”
Lan Qiren takes this chance to ask a question that he has been wondering about for the better part of a year. “Why did you ask Sect Leader Gong to keep your role in clearing Laoshan’s lake of vengeful water spirits quiet?”
“Laoshan is too close to Pingyang. If Sect Leader Yao heard of my presence so close to his territory, he would accuse Lan Zhan of using me to encroach on his territory. Knowing how Sect Leader Ouyang is, this would also lead to conflict with Baling. Some deeds are best kept quiet,” Wei Wuxian says thoughtfully, clear that he had considered the ramifications of his actions on Wangji’s position.
Humming in approval, Lan Qiren clasps his hands behind his back. Perhaps he is not the spouse Lan Qiren would have chosen for Wangji, but Lan Qiren cannot deny just how well Wei Wuxian compliments Wangji’s shortcomings — especially Wangji’s diplomatic shortsightedness.
“Don’t worry, Lan-shushu,” Wei Wuxian adds, seeing through to the root of Lan Qiren’s concerns. “We’ll be sticking around the jianghu, nothing too far. It’s only for a few months. We won’t be abandoning Gusu. I still have cute little baby Lans to teach and Lan Zhan still has Sect Leaders to terrorize. He doesn’t need to be Chief Cultivator to be a menace.”
“You will return?” Lan Qiren asks, clamping down on the anxiety bumbling within him. It is still one of his deepest fears, that Wei Wuxian will leave Cloud Recesses and take Wangji with him.
“I think I’ve spent enough time wandering, without a home,” Wei Wuxian drops the scroll on the table. He claps the dust off his hands as he straightens his back. “The Jingshi is a nice place to settle down.”
Lan Qiren hums, uncrossing his arms. He tucks his hands into his sleeves, watching the easy way Wei Wuxian moves around the room. He has not been teaching long, but Wei Wuxian has taken to it the way a duck takes to water: chaotically and messily, but without incident — like he was born to do it.
“We won’t be leaving immediately,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Like Lan Zhan said, it’ll be at least a few months from now. We still have duties and there are loose threads we need to tie up. I am going to see my little Lan ducklings to the end of the season and Xichen-ge still needs a bit more time before he’s ready to leave seclusion.”
“As long as you give the elders due warning,” Lan Qiren huffs, resigned to the knowledge that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have never listened to the words of others when it came to their mutual desires. He says this, masking his own private fear that they will leave without warning, that Lan Qiren will wake up one day and Wangji will be gone.
“Of course,” Wei Wuxian nods gravely, giving the topic at hand due gravity for once. Of course, he is Wei Wuxian. Like Wangji has often said, Wei Wuxian can be astute when he wants to be and so once again he sees through Lan Qiren’s words. “And of course we’ll let you and Xichen-ge know as well! We’ll bring everyone back souvenirs!”
“Do not be enthralled by frivolous goods,” Lan Qiren says gruffly even though he is privately wallowing in relief.
“It’s not frivolous if it’s improving your home decor,” Wei Wuxian counters, eyes twinkling. “An alternative interpretation to the rules is not a refutation of the rules.”
With Wei Wuxian’s laughter ringing through the Lanshi, Lan Qiren makes his exit.
It is the tail end of spring. The flowers have begun to wilt as the buds begin to change form into little fruits but the air is still filled with the cloyingly sweet scent of pollen as Lan Qiren steps out from the Lanshi.
Knowing that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji will be announcing their departure any day now, Lan Qiren awaits each day on edge. As promised, Xichen returns to his role as Sect Leader slowly and the transition is smooth. Certainly, Lan Qiren is elated, seeing Xichen move on from his hurts and return to the world.
These days, Lan Qiren has taken to observing Wangji’s and Wei Wuxian’s interactions, wondering how they will support each other when they are no longer in Cloud Recesses. Now that he has made his peace with them both, Lan Qiren finds himself spending his days worrying about the pair. It is an unfounded worry, Lan Qiren knows. They travel together often, on short local nighthunts and to conferences, and have always returned home without harm. Wangji still makes Wei Wuxian’s meals everyday without fail, and Wei Wuxian repays the sentiment with perfect pots of tea and slightly less perfect bowls of congee.
Still, as Lan Qiren watches their interactions, he observes that Wei Wuxian is far leaner than Wangji. Wei Wuxian’s waist looks like it would snap if Wangji is too careless, dwarfed by Wangji’s long fingers.
He also sees how Wei Wuxian is always running around Cloud Recesses, how there is always something that requires his attention, and how Wei Wuxian never turns down a disciple who asks for help. No matter how frivolous the question, Wei Wuxian throws all of himself into finding an answer.
It is this concern that leads Lan Qiren to interrupt Wei Wuxian’s class.
Saying nothing, he enters the Lanshi with a plate of sliced oranges in hand. In an effort to avoid disturbing the disciples, Lan Qiren walks around the perimeter of the room. It is not entirely successful as Lan Qiren can feel the eyes of some disciple following him, but no one is about to question his presence.
To Wei Wuxian’s credit he does not stumble over his lecture at all, even as his eyes confusedly follow Lan Qiren’s movements.
Without a word, Lan Qiren quietly leaves the fruit on Wei Wuxian’s desk and leaves, trusting Wei Wuxian will understand the action for what it is.
Acceptance.
