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Chapter Text

Hua Meng, secondborn birthed child of Hua WuXian, was two years old when he met his érjiu’s sworn brother, before the two even became sworn brothers. He was playing with his sister- he remembered her lavender eyes, the same colour as their mother’s. They weren’t supposed to leave Qìng-āyí or Níng-sānjiu’s sides if their mother wasn’t with them, but the two had gotten distracted while running after a pretty bird and ended up stumbling into Sect Leader Nie’s office where he was talking with his younger brother.

Hua Meng, secondborn birthed child of Hua WuXian, was two and three-quarters years old when his mother brought a new sibling into the family. Little baby Yang had him wrapped around his little finger the moment Hua Meng had laid eyes on him in their mother’s arms. Yuan, from where she had been standing next to Meng, had felt the same. Hua Yang had opened his eyes then, to reveal they were the same lavender as Hua Yuan's eyes- their mother’s eyes. Their mother’s blood-binding adoption had made it as though Yang had been born to their family, instead of found in the trash when Hua WuXian was walking around the Yiling market.

Hua Meng, secondborn birthed child of Hua WuXian, had been three years and five months when his world came crashing down around his head to the crackle of fire and yells of angry cultivators. He’d been playing with Yuan and Yang when the screams had started, and it was only moments later that the three had been taken to places they would be safe and hidden. It was separate, so that if anything happened to one of them at least the other two might be okay.

Hua Meng, secondborn birthed child of Hua WuXian, had been three years and five months and four days old when his érjiu found him and cradled him close to his chest before flying to Lotus Pier as fast as he could. He was brought to the infirmary as soon as Érjiu landed, looked over and bundled in blankets as the healers put medicine together to help him get better since he’d fallen ill while he was hidden. His mother’s aunt sent his other grandmothers secret letters and Zǔ-mi’yi and Zǔ-ai’ri came as soon as they were able to spare the time. Hua Meng’s zǔ-mi’yi had gold eyes and his zǔ-ai’ri had dark grey. Was that why his mother’s soul-self eyes were gold? When he tapped into his soul-self and brought it to the surface, would it make him have his mother’s eyes? Would his sister have their father’s eyes when she tapped into her soul-self?

Hua Meng, courtesy name JingYi chosen by his lǎolao, secondborn birthed child of Hua WuXian, was eleven when he saw his sister for the first time since the Siege when they were three. She was standing with the Lan contingent for the Discussion Conference being held in Qinghe-Nie, near Hanguang-Jun’s side. His sister Yuan was wearing Lan robes, with a Lan headband. Hua Meng was wearing Jiang robes, with a Jiang clarity bell hanging from his belt.

Sang-shishu stood near them, and Hua JingYi felt uncomfortable with all the eyes on him and his sword. Suibian had been his mother’s sword. It had belonged to his mother, it was only right that he inherited it.

“Do you know whose sword you have?” Hanguang-Jun asked with slightly narrowed eyes.

“This was my mother’s sword, it’s only right that I have it,” JingYi retorted before lifting his gaze defiantly to lock eyes with-

Gold met gold, and JingYi fell silent. He’d always suspected before his mother died, the Lan ribbon they kept tied around their wrist and the way he remembered them never reprimanding him or his sister from calling Hanguang-Jun “a-die” had felt like brilliant arrows pointing to Hanguang-Jun as their mother’s husband and their father. His mother said they’d eloped during the war, that JingYi’s father had insisted on them getting married right that moment when they’d reminded him of how they needed to decide when to have the wedding and who to allow to plan which parts.

“Hanguang-Jun-” his sister started to say, stepping forward.

All conversation around the room froze. Eyes flicked between the completely identical hair ornaments in JingYi and his sister’s hair, the silver flower with golden leaves that was edged in red. Two parts of a set of three, one for each of Hua WuXian’s living children to wear to represent their family. Only their baby brother Yang needed to be there, and then the set would be complete.

“… Meng-di?”

“Hello, Yuan-jie,” JingYi gave his sister a tentative smile and a light bow; the one reserved for family.

She returned it with wide lavender eyes, never taking them off him. She wore her hair in Lan braids with the Lan topknot and a Lan forehead ribbon, but at least that flower ornament in her hair was a sign of their mother. A way to prove that his sister wasn’t someone being made into a model Lan like their father.

“Sect Leader Jiang, we should discuss this,” Hanguang-Jun spoke evenly, but his grip on his sword’s hilt betrayed how he felt.

“Whatever you want to say to Érjiu can be said in front of everyone,” JingYi said, looking his father in the eye.

“Alright then. Hua WuXian’s son should be with his sister. I am sure that he will find Cloud Recesses-”

Érjiu looked like he was about to protest, but JingYi beat his uncle to it, “perhaps my sister would find that Lotus Pier is comfortable instead, Hanguang-jun. I’m sure that she will enjoy getting to know the place our mother lived.”

JingYi didn’t want to leave Érjiu or Lǎolao, and he was free to be himself in Lotus Pier; his family didn’t try to force him to be anything other than himself, and even worked with him on figuring out how to use scimitar forms with a sword just like his mother had back before their curved blade had been returned to them. They allowed and even helped him to put his hair in flowers like his mother (six, not seven because his mother was First Heir and he refused to believe that they wouldn’t return), and no one tried to hide anything about them from him if he were to ask. Such as the bloodline gift, and the way he was able to change his form at will because of it. He only ever dabbled in it when he was alone with his mother’s family, his two uncles and his aunt and his three grandmothers, because that was the only places he was sure he was safe to. Did his sister know about their bloodline gift? Did she remember their mother teasing them about how they were Mother’s little rabbit and fox when they were far younger?

He didn’t want to ask in front of everyone, else others might try to take advantage of his sister’s naivete.

Hua Meng, courtesy name JingYi, secondborn birthed child of Hua WuXian, was fourteen and joining his father and sister on a simple night-hunt with one of his fellow Jiang disciples accompanying so he wasn’t the only Jiang there. It was there that he learned and saw his baby brother and eldest uncle for the first time since the Siege when he was three. A-Yang had grown well, the now nearly thirteen-year-old had inherited much of their mother’s looks from the blood-binding adoption; he had their father's smile, yet everything else was undeniably from their mother.

“Excuse me, Mù-gongzi?”

JingYi’s uncle turned then, and froze for a moment, “xiǎoluóbo?”

“Zhēn-dàjiu, it’s really you,”

Yang looked up at JingYi then, and his robes looked all wrong. They weren’t Jiang robes and they weren’t Lan robes; they weren’t robes belonging to any Sect or Clan at all, just pale red with slightly darker orange detailing.

“Dàjiu, who is this?”

It was wrong, all wrong. JingYi’s younger sibling shouldn’t be asking who he is. His younger sibling shouldn’t look at him like he’s a stranger, he should realise how they have the same exact eye shape and hair colour and nose- and-

JingYi’s younger sibling didn’t know him. A-Yang had been just a baby when their mother died, JingYi shouldn’t have hoped differently because reality only made that hope feel like a blunt knife sliding into his skin.

“Yang-er, remember how Dàjiu said your Meng-ge has lots of things the same as you? Why don’t you take another, closer look at this man for your dàjiu, xiǎoluóbo?”

JingYi’s little sibling was referred to using their eldest uncle’s nickname for their mother’s children as well. It should be made obvious, Yang should know now.

“Meng-di, why did you stop?”

SiZhui moved to stand next to him, and laid her eyes on their uncle and little brother. Yang’s eyes widened a little when he saw her, and he looked between SiZhui and JingYi like he was starting to understand.

“Are- are you my Meng-ge and Yuan-jie?”

Chapter Text

The night hunt was a rather simple one in Mo village, led by Lan WangJi with some Lan disciples accompanying him to learn what the famed Hanguang-Jun had to teach them. Among them was a disciple named Lan SiZhui, a teen with lavender eyes.

She wore a hair ornament that was silver and gold and red in colour, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that it was a gift from her deceased mother. It also wasn’t exactly a secret per se that SiZhui was one of Hua WuXian’s children. WangJi had been recovering from retrieving her from the Burial Mounds and bringing her to Gusu where she had a chance to properly grow and thrive, as she had been four and WangJi had already been injured when he’d carried her with him on his sword. It was the only reason he hadn’t also tried to make contact with his zhīyīn’s soul during the first few years after their death, though he now had the habit of attempting communion each night to see if his beloved would reply to him.

SiZhui was now fifteen years old, and WangJi had fully recovered from his rather reckless actions some years before.

The town was a fair size for the inhabitants, small enough where everyone knew each other and large enough there was still new gossip to be learned between the townspeople.

“Aiyah, Lady Mù and her brother are doing the best they can, Pang-gongzi,” a woman manning a market stall reprimanded one of her customers in earshot of the Lan disciples, “Lady Mu only has one of her three children, of course Mù-gongzi will help his little sister out. She already lost her elder children, and you know what state she arrived in when she did finally reach her brother and youngest child.”

Gossip was forbidden, but WangJi had made sure that the junior disciples with him understood that listening to gossip in towns was not the same as gossiping themselves. It was simply gathering information. No one needed to know that the distinction had originally been made by Hua WuXian, during one of the many, many times WangJi had accompanied his zhīyīn on simple night hunts before everything had gone wrong.

“True, true. Lady Mù came here less than a year ago, and Mù-gongzi was already living here while taking care of her son by then. It wasn’t her fault what they did, and she made her way here as soon as she was able. It’s a right shame that she lost so much, but at least she has her son and her brother,”

“Bah! Those damn cultivation sects! If they hadn’t condemned Lady Mù for their own mistakes, it wouldn’t have taken her so long to get back to her brother and son. Her other children might still be alive, and she might still have her eyes,”

Clearly this Lady Mu, her brother, and her son were liked among the group of townspeople that were talking near where WangJi and the junior disciples he was with were eating. Lady Mù was a possible widow, who had multiple children and now only had her youngest child, and her brother had raised her remaining child until she could find her way back to her family. Lady Mù had been blamed for others’ mistakes and been kept from her son and brother.

They were here to investigate claims that something had caused a small eruption of resentful energy, and lay to rest whatever it was that was causing distress to the townspeople. Still, it was good to learn about the townspeople in case they needed to find someone for certain supplies.

There was some more gossip while the group of cultivators ate their food, where Lan WangJi and the disciples with him learned that the entities they were to dispatch were some walking corpses. A simple enough night-hunt, one that wasn’t likely to need strict guidance from Lan WangJi or great interference from him on behalf of the junior disciples.

“Dàjiu, can we get sweets for A-Niang? And things to offer Meng-ge and Yuan-jie?” a young boy with messy black hair in a high ponytail asked the man he was walking with.

“Yang-er, unless we decide to split offerings between your Meng-ge and Yuan-jie, we won’t have enough money to get sweets for your mother and offerings for both of them when we also need to get your a-niang’s medicine,” the man with him, who had the same black hair as Yang-er, said.

The boy, Yang-er, frowned a little with his lavender eyes lowering, “A-Niang got sweets yesterday, and says that offerings for Meng-ge and Yuan-jie are the best gift to give. Dàjiu tell stories about Meng-ge and Yuan-jie later?”

SiZhui froze momentarily, along with Lan WangJi and the other two Gusu-Lan disciples. That was her personal name along with her brother's personal name that the boy had just said. His name was Yang just like the two's little brother’s name was Yang.

“Of course I will, zhízǐ. Just… sometimes, the stories hurt a-Tai to hear. They were still young when your mother was separated from us, even younger than you are now. Your mother gets sad when someone reminds that Meng-er and Yuan-er aren’t here, and that my dìfū isn’t here either,”

The man had called a-Yang’s mother a-Tai, much like Hua WuXian’s older brother had called them a-Tai. Could it be..?

“A-Die makes A-Niang sad to talk about. He didn’t stay, and Meng-ge and Yuan-jie are gone… A-Niang only has Mù Yang and Dàjiu to make the lonely go away,” the boy, whose full personal name was Mù Yang, said with a heavy pout.

The ‘Lady Mù’ and ‘Mù-gongzi’ spoken of. ‘Lady Mù’ came here less than a year ago.

Mù Yang turned a little then, and there was the confirmation they needed. There was an ornament in Mù Yang’s hair, one that was coloured silver and gold and red. It was completely identical to the hair ornament that SiZhui wore in her own hair. From what she remembered, Mù Yang did indeed look like an older version of the little sibling she had played with alongside her brother when they were younger. He was no longer a baby, but it couldn’t be denied that this was indeed Hua Yang across the street from them. Which meant that his dàjiu beside him had to be Hua ZhēnXīng, their mother’s eldest brother. And their mother was here as well, Hua ZhēnXīng would tolerate absolutely no one imitating Hua WuXian for a single moment. Lan WangJi’s zhīyīn wasn't responding to attempted communions because they weren’t receiving any attempted summons. SiZhui's mother wasn’t responding to Inquiry attempts because none of it was reaching Hua WuXian since they were dead no longer.