Chapter Text
The moon is blue.
It slides like a frozen coin, pale against the dark bolt of the sky.
The light filtering through is hardly warmer.
Winter in the Lan recesses is most famous for its snow, often hip-deep, and tinged blue: clear and cold in both appearance and substance.
The blanket presses against tired muscles.
Lan Zhan patiently wills his qi to move through his body. He is uncertain what hour of the night it is, but his brother is not back, and his uncle has not visited, so he supposes the child to be safe.
He wonders in passing if his words count as lies, given that he is not the natural parent of the boy.
Then, memories of the heartwarming moments spent with Wei Ying and this boy that fateful, dreamlike, day come.
Regret wells up in him again, pointing bony fingers at his chest, mocking him in a voice that is Wei Ying, but somehow full of hatred.
Get lost! Get lost! Get lost!...
He takes another deep breath, ignoring the pinch in his back muscles.
Regrets do not bring back the dead.
He has made a choice, and it is his to live with.
He thinks in passing how much easier it would be to choose not living, but that is not allowed.
Regardless of blood ties, the boy had been clearly loved by Wei Ying.
He had been Wei Ying’s son.
When he reasons it this way, he thinks that surely it must be sufficient for the purposes of the clan rules not to lie.
The son is Wei Ying’s child. He loves Wei Ying. He will honour his life by raising the child, as his own.
It is natural. It is honourable to adopt a child from another marriage, and offer them stability.
He has certainly not lied about the boy’s last name, nor about his importance.
Satisfied with the reasoning he closes his eyes briefly.
All his dreams are about paper butterflies confessing their love.