Chapter Text
The family retreated to the only room they could possibly go to. Wei Wuxian’s old room.
Wei Wuxian himself led the way, steeling himself for questions, tears, maybe even accusations and anger… but mostly… hurt and pain.
Memories overlapped with his vision as he walkde down the familiar paths of his former home. He saw himself, a dark mirage of his former self standing there with Shijie by his side. He rememberde the terrible sinking feeling of realization, when it became undeniable, that Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu had truly, and irreversibly left their mark on him.
He bit back his emotions as he stepped back into his old room.
Just like he did that day, when he returned from his seclusion in the cottage. He had acted as though nothing had changed… even though he was wearing cloths around his middle to contain the leaking blood and fluids draining form within his empty body.
He had felt like a stranger in his own home, the place where he had felt so safe and where he had formed so many happy memories felt fake and faded…
He felt like a ghost haunting a home that wasn’t his own.
Today he returned again, and the feeling is even worse this time.
He looked around, clearly able to see where Lan Yuan and Jiang Cheng had walked, their footsteps imprinted in the layer of dust covering the ground.
He sat on his bed without realizing.
Muscle memory guided him.
Muscle memory guided him to pull Lan Yuan and Wei Lian towards himself as they hesitantly stepped into the room after him.
Lan Wangji pullse the door shut behind himself, the last one to enter the room. He had been here once.
After being rescued from the cave of the Xuanwu, after handing over Wei Ying to the care of the former sect leader Jiang. He had gotten his own injuries treated, just before learning of his father’s death.
He had come to Wei Ying’s room just once, hoping to bid him good bye, but he had still been comatose at the time.
Wei Ying shuffled further back on his bed, all the while pulling his son and daughter against himself. He was nesting as best as he could.
Lan Wangji stood back, resisting the urge to join his mate.
Wei Wuxian looked up at him.
“Lan Zhan?” he whispered, insecurity dripping from his voice.
Lan Wangji hummed and stepped closer.
“Do you regret being with me now?”
Lan Wangji almost fell over himself in his shock.
“What?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
Wei Ying averted his eyes, hiding his face against the top of Lan Yuan’s head for a while, before looking at Lan Wangji again.
“I’m… well… … I guess you’ve known for a while, but… I guess hearing it is still-”
Lan Wangji resolutely sat on the bed and cuts him off before he could speak more.
“Wei Ying, no. No regret. Never regret,” he insisted.
Wei Ying looked doubtful for a moment, then lowered his head and exhaled.
Lan Wangji meanwhile shifted closer, pulling Wei Ying into his side and bracing Wei Lian against himself, allowing Lan Yuan to curl into Wei Ying’s chest.
The sight brought back memories from their early years, when this was the only way Wei Ying could be close with his children, perched on a heap of pillows in bed, gritting his teeth through the pain in his back.
Lan Wangji never wanted to end up like his father, imprisoning his mate for their own safety… but after Lan Xia was born and pronounced the Lan clan’s true heir, he threw all his political weight into having Wei Ying’s punishment suspended in favor of prolonged house arrest.
Wei Ying deserved to be able to raise his children, and he couldn’t do so if he was constantly in debilitating pain.
Even now, Lan Xia’s position as clan heir ensured his safety.
Lan Qiren himself was taking care of Lan Xia, and while this seemed like a favor within the family, it was truly a hostage situation.
Wei Ying was only allowed to join the search for Wei Lian, when the girl ran away, taking only Mo Xuanyu with her, because the clan heir was being kept in Gusu.
He was the guarantee, ensuring Wei Ying would return to his prison.
Lan Wangji could cry at the injustice of it all, but for all his political sway, he couldn’t overrule everything.
Lan Yuan pressed his face into Wei Ying’s collar, breathing in the scent that had always soothed him.
If only he had known why…
Wei Lian watched her brother, her own feelings a wild, undulating mess.
Wen Ning wasn’t allowed to come to Lotus Pier, but she had been able to talk to him for long enough to know that he had witnessed her birth.
He didn’t need to spell it out for her, but the way he looked at her with those dead eyes, somehow so full of emotion… the way he told her she had grown up so much since he last saw her…
The way he looked at that old, dark cave and offered to show it to her…
She understood she must have been born in there.
In that cave.
And when the fierce corpses came closing in on them… Mo Xuanyu, Mama and Baba fighting them off while Sizhui tried to shield her with his own body… she saw Wen Ning’s face again.
The Ghost General joined the fight to protect them all, and yet… he looked at Lan Sizhui differently.
At first Wei Lian didn’t think too deeply about it, but now… things sank into the depths of her mind, seeping into her heart and taking hold…
… squeezing her heart painfully.
Lan Wangji held her gently, kissed her temple and rubbed her back. He knew not to push Wei Ying for answers before he was ready to give them, so he waited…
He’d keep the children calm and settled until Wei Ying was ready.
Lan Yuan shifted and squirmed uneasily. The deeper he soaked in the scent of his Xian gege, the more sharply he felt the crushing pain of being lied to… of being betrayed… of being unwanted… abandoned…
And with these thoughts came a tsunami of guilt.
How could he possibly think such a thing?! And yet… and yet…
His earliest memories were ones without parents. With only old Granny Wen… who told him his A-Niang and A-Die loved him very much, but the war took them away from him too soon.
He sniffled and sat up, looking at Wei Wuxian with a pained expression.
“Who is my father?” he asked as firmly as he could.
Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to speak, then paused… and closed his mouth again. He almost smiled and shook his head.
“Your father is Lan Zhan. Your father has always been Lan Zhan, and nothing will change that,” he said softly. He ran a hand through Lan Yuan’s fringe, brushing it aside to reveal the white forehead band, designating him a member of the Lan clan.
Lan Yuan bristled and tilted his head away from his mother’s touch.
Wei Wuxian dropped his hand and sighed.
“Your sire is a man called Wen Zhuliu,” he admitted.
By his side, Lan Wangji’s eyes widened by just a fraction.
Lan Yuan glanced at him, then at his mother again.
Clearly, that name meant something to them.
“Who is he?”
Wei Wuxian bit his lip, exhaling forcefully through his nostrils.
“He is dead,” he pointed out sharply before pursing his lips again.
Lan Yuan wanted to ask why, but Lan Wangji’s hand on his arm kept him from speaking.
It took Wei Wuxian a while to gather his composure again.
“Wen Zhuliu was... he... he could have been a great man,” he said, his expression complicated. In his eyes, Lan Wangji could see the resentment, the hatred, the pain… but he knew Wei Ying wouldn’t want to tarnish his son’s self-image more than he already had.
“He was very loyal, but he served a cruel, selfish young master,” Wei Wuxian grit his teeth, “Wen Chao.” He hissed the name with so much hatred, the children both flinched.
They had never heard their mother speak with this much disgust and loathing.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes burned as he choked out the next words, “He is the man who burned down Lotus Pier, who had the entire Jiang sect massacred.”
Lan Yuan held his breath in horror.
Suddenly it clicked, why sect leader Jiang was so… so… … the way he was.
Of course Lan Yuan had known about the massacre. It was a part of history that was commonly known.
Every time anyone mentioned sect leader Jiang, they would always add a mention of him being the youngest carrier of that title, praising him for rebuilding the Yunmeng Jiang sect all on his own, despite the betrayal of his own brother.
Hearing about the history never truly instilled in Lan Yuan the reality, that these events were things that truly happened… things that were witnessed…
Witnessed by the only survivors left behind to tell the tale.
Looking back on it, of course it made sense. But somehow it had never fully clicked like that.
Wei Wuxian stared into a distance neither of the others could see. He saw flames and blood, he heard screams and smelled the scent of burning flesh and wood.
Darkly, he spoke again, “Wen Chao and I were at war, and in a moment of weakness he attacked me. He ordered Wen Zhuliu to... have his way with me, and then threw me off a cliff into the depths of the Burial Mounds, where he left me for dead.”
There was nothing left to say after that, Lan Yuan realized.
How could anyone ask Wei Wuxian to elaborate after such a confession?
Every terrible implication that was concealed within the seeming simplicity of these words stung like a knife being plunged deep into one’s body.
Wen Chao and he were at war.
A moment of weakness.
Attacked.
Had his way.
Left him for dead.
Horror sank deep into Lan Yuan’s bones. Horror at his own terrible conception, the fact of his existence… a loathsome curse on the mother he loved so dearly…
“You have no idea what your mother went through, for you to be here today”
This wasn’t just about his birth… it was about his entire life.
Jiang Wanyin spoke as a brother who had been helpless to protect the only other family member he had left to rely on…
Wei Wuxian pulled Lan Yuan into his arms again and held him close.
He rubbed the boy’s back and nuzzled his hair.
By his side, Lan Wangji held a quietly sobbing Wei Lian.
Wei Wuxian sighed.
“I stayed there for three months before I was able to return home. By then you were already growing inside my belly,” he told Lan Yuan softly, lovingly. “Shijie and Jiang Cheng took care of me and helped me until... you were... born,” he added, softer yet.
“You must know that Jiang Cheng tried his best, but in the end… it hurt us both more than anything.”
Wei Wuxian caressed Lan Yuan’s flushed cheek apologetically.
Lan Yuan silently looked up at his mother, the unspoken question in his eyes fading.
How could Wei Wuxian have loved him after going through such a terrible thing? No wonder he didn’t keep him…
And yet… he needed to hear it.
He needed to hear it in his mother’s words and his voice, he needed to know how he felt at heart.
Wei Wuxian understood.
“I was hurting a lot, and all I could think about was what Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu had done to me. I couldn't bear to look at you, so I let Granny Wen take you. I thought that you would have a better life being raised by somebody else,” he explained, running his fingers through Lan Yuan’s hair. “I wish I could say that I did it out of love for you back then… … maybe I did… or maybe I was simply afraid of seeing him in your face,” he added, softer.
The admission cut deep.
Lan Yuan felt tears well in his eyes like blood from a wound.
“I could never have imagined that I would meet you again when I was looking for Wen Ning, but I knew who you were the moment I saw you,” Wei Wuxian continued eventually, “By then I wasn't hurting as much anymore, and I was able to look at you, and see you for who you truly are, A-Yuan. A wonderful, sweet little radish, and I hated myself for ever thinking that I couldn't love you.”
A-Yuan sobbed.
These words somehow soothed all the pain he had felt these past hours…
He realized what Wei Wuxian had meant when he’d said that he wanted him to have a family that loves him as their own, no matter who or what he is! A family that wants him! A family that chose him!
Mama wanted A-Yuan to know that he was loved, because it was him, not out of some obligation forced upon him.
“I took you in with the other Wens, and I regretted missing so much of your life already, but by then I was afraid that if I ever told you the truth of who I was, you'd think that I didn't want you and gave you away because of that,” Mama explained, pressing kisses to A-Yuan’s head.
He whispered into his hair, “I decided to just stay as your Xian-gege and raise you as best as I could… I hate to think that I failed so badly though, forgive me.”
Lan Yuan pushed back forcefully and looked at Wei Wuxian’s face.
“You… you didn’t! Never!” he insisted, blinking through a veil of tears. “I knew… I always… knew,” he hiccuped. “It’s because I knew that Wei qianbei and Hanguang-jun loved me like their own, that I… I felt so…” he struggled for the right words to say, dabbing at his tears with his sleeves. “Lan Xiansheng always said that I shouldn’t take it for granted. That I should be honored to be adopted by Hanguang-jun… that… that… I owe it to you both… to be a filial son…”
Wei Wuxian’s expression shifted minutely.
Lan Wangji moved his hand from Lan Sizhui’s arm to his shoulder.
“E-even though Lian-mei isn’t officially considered as an heir, I know that she is more legitimate than I am, so… so if anything were to happen… it’d better be me… than her…”
Wei Wuxian growled.
“I will have the elder’s head for saying such things to you.”
Lan Sizhui expected Lan Wangji to protest his mate’s violent threats, but was surprised to find him glaring just as viciously.
Oh.
Oh…
“You are my son. You bear the Lan name, and the forehead band. You are my heir, just as your meimei and your didi are,” Lan Wangji proclaimed in a tone, that allowed for no doubt or argument.
From under Lan Wangji’s arm Wei Lian perked up.
“But I’m called Wei,” she pointed out.
Wei Wuxian leaned towards her, kissing her forehead.
“You are called Wei, because when you were born, I couldn’t let anyone know who your Baba was,” he told her.
Wei Lian tilted her head.
“But… … Baba is … my Baba, right?”
Lan Wangji almost smiled.
“Yes, I am,” he told her.
Wei Wuxian chuckled. “As if anyone could ever doubt that,” he said. “Just look at your eyes. Anyone who saw them, even when I refused to tell them, they knew anyway.”
Now Lan Yuan piped up.
“But why couldn’t you tell them?”
Wei Wuxian sighed.
“Ah, well… Look at me, and look at your father. I was always… someone who didn’t fit in… I did things people told me not to do, and I broke some big rules…” he hedged, pretending like his status of infamy wasn’t a well-known fact among his children.
It’s not like they were spared the countless lectures from all the elders of the Gusu Lan sect, not to follow in his footsteps and never to deviate from the righteous path of cultivation.
Of course they knew Wei Wuxian was a ‘controversial’ person at the very least.
Still, Wei Wuxian tried to make light of it all.
“Everyone would have thought that some nefarious plotting had taken place, if I’d suddenly gone and claimed that you were Lan Zhan’s child, even if he agreed,” he said, keeping his tone as casual as possible. He didn’t need to hurt his children more than he already had by telling them that the entire cultivation world had been hellbent on killing him back then…
“Also, I was being a selfish, overprotective mother, because your Baba wasn’t there when I had you. So there, I just wanted him to work for it a little, before admitting that he really was your Baba,” he added, putting on a grin.
This however, brought a frown to Wei Lian’s face.
“In the Burial Mounds…” she murmured.
Wei Wuxian’s face softened.
“In the Burial Mounds,” he said. “In the Demon Slaughtering Cave, way in the back, on a pile of hay and blankets.”
He pulled Wei Lian closer so she and Lan Yuan were both mushed into his chest. He began rocking them both from side to side.
“Granny Wen, Wen Qing and Wen Ning were there, while your Yuan-gege went with Fourth Uncle to buy a birthday gift for you, down in Yiling,” he told them, smiling fondly. “I asked him to find you a-”
“A bunny,” Lan Wangji finished the sentence. “A white bunny.”
Wei Wuxian looked at him.
“You were there… that day…” he whispered.
Lan Wangji nodded.
“I never knew it meant so much,” he admitted.