#elliemoran

Quietly, he eased down the aisle, ducking down enough to see through a gap in the shelves to the open study area beyond. He’d just spotted the group of students sitting around one of the tables when that same young, enthusiastic voice rang out again, remarkably loud in the silence of the library.

“I mean, wouldn’t they be perfect together?”

“Oh please.” A second voice sneered. “In what universe?”  

That voice was more familiar, in a ‘this kid is really annoying’ sort of way, but Wei Ying still couldn’t put a name to it. He angled his head to the side to get a better look, and thought he’d found the first speaker. Just as young as his voice had sounded, the boy leaned back in his chair as he stared dreamily into the distance, not even pretending to pay attention to the books that lay scattered in front of him. Wei Ying knew who he was, sort of - the son of Secretary Ouyang from the school board and, so far at least, a fairly decent student - but for the life of him couldn’t remember the kid’s actual name.  

“Just imagine it, though. Professor Lan, with all that restraint and self-control and the way he’s just so regal all the time, and Professor Wei being all like…like…like that.” The enthusiastic Ouyang waved his hand through the year in a way that made Wei Ying’s mouth twitch. “They’re perfect for each other.”  

“I repeat, in what universe?” The sneerer sneered, and Wei Ying’s dusty memory clicked his name into place. Jin Chan. Already a pain in the entire faculty’s ass though they were barely two months into his freshman year, largely due to his father’s insistence that the world – and the college – should revolve around his son, though Jin Chan’s own inability to open his mouth without annoying almost everyone in his vicinity helped make him even more memorable.

Unknowingly proving Wei Ying’s point, Jin Chan continued, “Professor Lan’s so tediously boring, and Professor Wei-”

“Professor Lan isn’t boring!” A third student at the table spoke up, and Wei Ying saw, without surprise, that it was Lan Jingyi – the second most easily irritated by Jin Chan student in the freshman class. “You just don’t like him because he told you he’d fail you if you tried to make someone else do your assignments again, and he won’t take your dad’s bribes to raise your grades.”  

Jin Chan, predictably, sneered yet again. “Please. His classes are boring and useless. I’d have dropped them already if they weren’t a requirement.” He sniffed. “And besides, your grades suck compared to mine.”

Half rising from his seat, Lan Jingyi thumped a hand onto the table. “They do not.”

“Enough.” The boy sitting beside Lan Jingyi reached up and smoothly pulled him back into his chair. “You guys are neck and neck, and if you don’t actually start working on this project you’ll both fail Professor Lan’s class anyway.”

Jin Chan rolled his eyes. “As if we could fail with you in our group, Wen Yuan. You’re his pet, he’d never sully your reputation with anything but a top grade.”

Lan Jingyi was on his feet again. “Look, you dickw-”

Wen Yuan cut him off by jerking him back into his seat, and then turned his head to look at Jin Chan. Wei Ying couldn’t see Wen Yuan’s expression from where he stood, but he clearly saw the way Jin Chan dropped his eyes away, shutting his mouth as he scowled down at his books.

The enthusiastic Ouyang paid no attention to the almost fight, or to Wen Yuan’s earlier nudge to get back to work. “I mean, the aesthetics alone would make it worth it. They’re both so pretty.”

Lan Jingyi lifted his head to stare at him across the table. “You’re saying they’d make a good couple because you think they’re both attractive?”

“No, no. They do make a beautiful picture whenever they stand next to each other, but that’s just a bonus.”

A wide grin spread over Wei Ying’s face as he had a brief flash of himself standing beside an angrily yelling Lan Qiren. Nope. They probably didn’t mean that Professor Lan.

Lan Jingyi shook his head. “I just can’t see it. They’re opposites – I mean Professor Wei is always talking in class about how we need to learn how to break the established rules, and Professor Lan is…well-”

“He’s obsessed with rules. And my father says Professor Wei is a radical, and a danger to the college and to his students.” Jin Chan sniffed, raising his nose into the air even as he avoided looking in Wen Yuan’s direction. “He says he should be fired immediately.”

“Your dad thinks everyone should be fired.” Lan Jingyi shot back.

“Clearly, this college is full of sub-par staff and teachers. My father said he’d never have sent me here if he’d known, and he’s already looking at transferring me as soon as he finds a suitable alternative.”  

“I wish he’d hurry up.” Lan Jingyi muttered, and then winced away from the elbow Wen Yuan jabbed into his side.  

Still ignoring the drama around him, the enthusiastic Ouyang let the front legs of his chair drop to the ground and braced his elbows on the table. “I mean, I don’t think it would ever happen, but you have to admit they’d be such a great match. You think so too, don’t you Wen Yuan?”

Wen Yuan looked up from the book he’d been pointedly nudging into Lan Jingyi’s hands. “Me? I’m not sure why-”

“Remember this morning, when we were in the staff lounge and we saw Professor Wei talking to that Nie guy from the school board? They were playing around and I said they looked like they were friends?”

“Yes, I remember. And it’s Chairman Nie, not ‘that Nie guy’.”

“Well when we were leaving I saw Professor Lan watching them too. He actually looked kind of angry – and then he sort of rolled his eyes and walked away. So I think he has a crush on Professor Wei.”

The rest of the occupants of the table, and Wei Ying, all stared at him in shock.

“Are you serious?” Jin Chan demanded. “You made this whole thing up because Professor Wei and Chairman Nie were being loud and obnoxious and Professor Lan got irritated at them? Ouyang Zizhen, there’s something wrong with your brain.”

Ouyang Zizhen – and Wei Ying didn’t think he’d ever forget that name again - just sighed, and shook his head sadly. “I feel bad for him, pining like that. I mean, Professor Wei seems like such a flirt, but he’d never notice if someone like Professor Lan liked him unless they whacked him over the head with it, and Professor Lan isn’t the type to ever get pushy.”    

“You’re so stupid.” And Jin Chan was back to sneering as he pointedly grabbed one of the books piled in the center of the table and flipped it open. “I can’t believe I wasted my time listening to you.”

“Oh, but you’re related to Professor Wei, aren’t you Jin Ling?” As he spoke, Ouyang Zizhen turned towards the far end of the table. “Isn’t he your uncle or something? Maybe you could put in a good word for Professor Lan.”

Wei Ying blinked, and then eased a couple inches over until he finally saw the fifth member of the group. Jin Ling sat with his head down, shoulders hunched, and an aura that told Wei Ying he desperately wanted to be anywhere but there.

“I have nothing to do with any of them. Leave me alone.”

“But Jin Ling, this could be Professor Lan’s only chance at happiness!”

Jin Ling looked up, and Wei Ying had to bite back a laugh at the expression on his nephew’s face. “Can we just get on with the project?”

“Yes. We need to get back to work.” Wen Yuan spoke with gentle firmness. “If we don’t get this assignment done before the library closes we’ll have to meet again over the weekend and I don’t think anyone wants that.”

As all the boys, including Ouyang Zizhen, turned back to their books, Wei Ying soundlessly backed up and escaped from the other end of the aisle.

He was laughing to himself as he hopped down the stairs to the basement floor of the library. He still didn’t know which Lan they meant, though he was mostly sure it wasn’t Lan Qiren. It could be Lan Huan, except he didn’t think Lan Huan had rolled his eyes at anything in his entire life, ever. Lan Zhan, however…

He strolled along the aisles, and to his great pleasure found Lan Zhan at the very back, sitting at a desk in one of the alcoves tucked away behind the last row of bookshelves, his head bent over the thick book lying open in front of him as he made precise notes on the pad of paper at his side.

With a grin, Wei Ying slid onto the desk, his hip nudging the heavy book away.

Lan Zhan shot him a look, then straightened the book and turned back to the note he was making on his notepad. “What are you doing, Wei Ying?”

“Well, apparently some of the students think we’d make a perfect couple, so I decided I’d find you and see what you thought about that.”

“I see.”

Wei Ying leaned back, resting on his hands as he stretched one leg out in front of him, studying his shoe. “Apparently, you’ve been pining for me, but no one thinks you’d be pushy enough to make a move.”

“Mm.”

“I have to admit that made me laugh a little. I almost wanted to interrupt and tell them some stories about their regal Professor Lan, but I thought it might be too early in the school year to shock them that much.”

“Mm.”

“Actually, they might have been talking about your brother, or even Lan Qiren. I couldn’t really tell.”

“Is that so.”

“Uh-huh. I figure they meant you, though, because it can’t be your uncle – he’d cut out his own eyes if it meant he could see me less often. And Lan Huan would never be obvious enough about it if he did have a crush on me for anyone but you to figure it out.”

“He does not.”

“No, I didn’t think so. Well then, that just leaves you. So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” Wei Ying leaned forward, his arm blocking Lan Zhan’s view of the page as he stretched across it to adjust the neatly knotted tie around Lan Zhan’s neck.  

“Wei Ying, stop playing around.”

Slowly, Wei Ying trailed the tie’s length through his fingers, before letting the silky fabric drop. “But I have to check, because you see, apparently I’d never notice if someone like you liked me unless you whacked me over the head with it.”

Lan Zhan sighed, then quietly closed the book, set it aside, and looked up into Wei Ying’s laughing eyes.

“I still have work, Wei Ying. Go play somewhere else for a little while.”

“But Lan Zhan, this is important. They said you looked jealous when Nie Huaisang and I were talking earlier, and I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand.” Wei Ying’s smile widened when he saw he’d managed to get Lan Zhan’s full attention. “It isn’t Nie Huaisang I like, after all.”

“I know.” Lan Zhan dropped his gaze away, back to his notepad, but Wei Ying saw the way the straight line of his mouth had softened, curving up ever so slightly.

“You do? That’s good. So you weren’t jealous, then?”

“Wei Ying, I need to finish writing up this assignment.”  

“I guess you weren’t, then. Oh, unless..” Wei Ying paused, then deliberately widened his eyes as he lifted one hand to his chest. “Unless it’s not me you were jealous over. Maybe you have a thing for Nie Huaisang?”

In one smooth motion, Lan Zhan pushed back from the table and stood.

Wei Ying watched, grinning broadly, as Lan Zhan slid into place between his legs, placing his hands flat against the desk on either side of Wei Ying’s hips.

“Wei Ying.”

“Hmm?” The way Lan Zhan’s upper body pressed him backwards made it a little hard for Wei Ying to catch his breath.  

“I like you. Only you.”

“Oh.” Wei Ying truly couldn’t think of a response to that, so he just wrapped his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, lifting his mouth to meet Lan Zhan’s. “Good, then.”

But as he felt Lan Zhan leaning into him, Wei Ying couldn’t resist one more comment. “Wait, wait, maybe I misunderstood those boys entirely. Maybe they thought Nie Huaisang and I were the ones who’d make a perfect couple.”

Lan Zhan shifted his hands until he gripped Wei Ying’s thighs, yanking his hips forward as he said one single, clipped word.

“No.”

  A little more than ten minutes later, Wei Ying managed to catch his breath long enough to register the voices coming towards them. He turned his head just as all noise cut off abruptly, and saw the same group of students he’d been eavesdropping on upstairs standing a few yards away, gaping at them.

Well, three of them were gaping. Jin Ling was glaring, and Wen Yuan had his face slightly turned away as he used one hand to hide what looked suspiciously like a laugh.  

Jin Ling sighed, loudly. “Why do I have to deal with you guys like this at school, too?”

“Oops.” With a wicked grin, Wei Ying pressed a hand lightly to Lan Zhan’s chest, nudging him a few inches away as he let the leg he’d wrapped around his waist drop. “Sorry, kids.”

Lan Zhan stepped back from Wei Ying, giving him room to slip off the desk, and turned to face the boys with a calm, dignified expression on his face, as if his hair wasn’t still mussed from the hands that had been buried in it a few seconds before. “Can I help you with something?”

Wen Yuan glanced at the rest of his group, before evidently deciding no one else would speak. “We had a question about the project due on Monday. One of the librarians said you were back here.” He sent Wei Ying a rueful smile. “Alone.”

“Well then, I’ll get myself gone.” Wei Ying leaned down to pick up the suit jacket he’d tossed onto the floor, handing it to Lan Zhan as he started past.

He was almost to the group of boys when he heard Lan Zhan speak from behind him.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“My tie.”

Wei Ying blinked, then looked down at the pale blue silk tie hanging loose around his neck. “Oh, right.” He walked back to Lan Zhan, dropping it onto his outstretched hand.  

The way Lan Zhan’s lips curved in response made Wei Ying’s heart thump in his chest.

Shaking his head at Lan Zhan’s lethally growing abilities, Wei Ying turned to leave, only to find that their whole audience had backed up a step.

“Actually, That’s ok.” Ouyang Zhizen had grabbed a couple arms and was forcibly urging the rest of the group to move faster as they kept easing backwards. “We’ll just figure it out ourselves.”

A little perplexed, Wei Ying watched the rapidly retreating students disappear around the end of the closest bookshelf. A second later he heard Ouyang Zizhen say, almost at a wail, “Jin Ling, they’re already dating?”

“No.” Jin Ling’s voice was full of exasperation. “They’re married. And they’re always like this.”

As their footsteps faded away, Wei Ying turned, leaning into Lan Zhan as he grinned up at him. “We are always like this, aren’t we?”

He sat up and reached for the lemon water he’d set out the night before, then began the process of peeling back fabric until he had Wei Wuxian’s face fully exposed.

Wei Wuxian grumbled, and tried to burrow back into Lan Wangji’s side.

“Wei Ying. Drink.” Lan Wangji held the lip of the bowl to Wei Wuxian’s lips.

With his eyes still tightly shut, Wei Wuxian sipped at the water. He wrinkled his nose. “It’s cold.”

“I’ll go make more.” Lan Wangji set the bowl down and moved to get off the bed, but had to stop when arms wrapped around his waist and held him in place.

“Stay.” Still wrapped in blanket, Wei Wuxian curled himself around Lan Wangji until he could press the side of his face against his stomach. “You feel so nice and cool.”

Gently, Lan Wangji laid the palm of his hand on Wei Wuxian’s exposed cheek. “Your fever is worse.”

“It sure is.” Wei Wuxian sighed. “Such terrible timing, getting sick right now.”  

Since that was true, Lan Wangji said nothing.

“I don’t want to think about having to get up yet, let’s just stay here for a while longer.”

“You should rest for today. Miss the conference.”

“Can’t,” Wei Wuxian’s voice was stuffy, and a little hoarse. “I promised Jin Ling I wouldn’t leave him on his own.”

“He won’t be alone. Sect Leader Jiang will be there.”

“Yes, but Sect Leader Yao isn’t afraid of him, unfortunately, the only thing that made him shut up yesterday was me and Chenqing. He’s not as scared of us as he used to be but he didn’t even notice Jiang Cheng almost pulling Sandu on him.” Shifting his position, Wei Wuxian pulled himself further around Lan Wangji’s body so he could press his face against a new, colder section of his stomach. “Being appointed as the spokesman for all the absent clans and sects really went to his head - what could they have been thinking? He’s the last person I’d want ever speaking for me.”

“He talks a great deal. Maybe they mistook that for him having some intelligence.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, and then grinned up at him. “Could be. I do love watching the way you interact with him. Or don’t.”

“As useless as he is, he is proving to be a problem.”

“I know it. He seems to be making a point of disagreeing with the major sects on anything he can disagree over, and unfortunately he represents so many clans now that nobody can do anything unless he agrees to it. I can’t imagine what he’s getting out of being such a pain, unless he just likes the feeling of bossing everyone else around.””

“Likely.”  

“Whatever he thinks, he goes too far, when he speaks to Jin Ling the way he does. If Jiang Cheng had any less self-control he would have strangled him with Zidian already. ‘You’re too young to understand, Sect Leader Jin’, ‘why don’t you wait until you have more experience before speaking, Sect Leader Jin’.” Wei Wuxian snorted. “I nearly pulled out Chenqing for real when he started going on about ‘the youth’ needing to learn to give proper credit to their elders, right after Jin Ling finished described the strategy he put together to deal with the bandits in the western mountains.”

“He’s a fool. He forgets Sect Leader Jin will not always be as young as he is now.”

“No, and young as he is he’s already been in charge of Lanling Jin for more than five years. He’s no child relying on Jiang Cheng for support, not anymore.” Wei Wuxian sighed, and then sneezed. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve before continuing. “I wonder if Jiang Cheng had to deal with people treating him like that when he took over Yunmeng Jiang. He was younger than Jin Ling is now.”

“It was a different time. He’d experienced a great deal that Sect Leader Jin has not.”

“Yes.” Wei Wuxian was silent for a long moment, and from the expression on his face, Land Wangji knew a part of his mind had gone back to that different time. “He was far, far more alone, though.”

Lan Wangji had no response to that, so he simply reached out and stroked Wei Wuxian’s hair back from his forehead.

The dark look that had started to form in Wei Wuxian’s eyes cleared as he looked up into Lan Wangji’s face, and he laughed softly. “Well, after all, those were the days of Jin Guangshao. He bossed all the sect leaders around, no matter their age. I do wonder how Sect Leader Yao managed to live through Jin Guangyao though, if he was even half as annoying back then. I’m surprised he never had an ‘accident’ along the way.”

“Lianfang Zun had many methods.”

“Yes, I suppose he likely had him in the palm of his hand, didn’t he? No one has his knack anymore. Even Nie Huiasang spent most of yesterday playing with his new fan.” Wei Wuxian paused, and then said thoughtfully, “Maybe he’ll come up with a good ‘accident’ for Sect Leader Yao, if we give him long enough.”

“I don’t believe so.”

“No.” Wei Wuxian sighed again. “He doesn’t care enough. And in the meantime, every time I sneeze in front of Sect Leader Yao I become a little less intimidating, and he becomes a lot more annoying.”

“Let it be, today. Sleep and get better. I don’t doubt the conference will still be going tomorrow.”

“Sure it will. It’ll be going next year, at this rate.” Wei Wuxian shifted, pillowing the back of his head on Lan Wangji’s thigh so he could see him clearly. “How’s Lan Xichen holding up?”  

Lan Wangji kept smoothing his hand over Wei Wuxian’s hair, and thought of his brother. “He’s trying. He said he wants to be of use.”  

“I’m glad he’s finally out of seclusion, at least.”

Lan Wangji hesitated, and then nodded. “Mn.”

“You think he’ll go back?”

“No. Or not for as long. He is the sect leader, and he refuses to follow our father’s path.”

“Then what worries you?” Wei Wuxian’s stuffy nose didn’t hide the concern in his voice.

“It’s…difficult for him. He doesn’t trust his own judgement anymore.”

“Ah.” Nodding, Wei Wuxian smiled softly up at Lan Wangji. “Which is why you didn’t call Sect Leader Yao out yesterday. You don’t want to take any of your brother’s authority away.”

“Mn.”

“Well. Maybe Sect Leader Yao will get ill too, and then he’ll have to leave it all to Sect Leader Ouyang, and since he’s a little afraid of Jiang Cheng, maybe this conference won’t be completely pointless.” Wei Wuxian looked hopeful for a moment, and then sneezed, before shaking his head. “Except he’s not the type to get sick when it’s convenient for anyone but himself.”

When he started to wipe his nose on his sleeve again, Lan Wangji stretched over him to the pile of folded cloth he’d set out with the lemon water. He handed one to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian scrubbed at his nose, before scrunching the cloth in his hand. “Well then. Go do what you  have to do. If I can get rid of this fever in time for this afternoon’s session maybe Jiang Cheng won’t think I got sick on purpose.”

“I’ll tell him you didn’t.”

Wei Wuxian laughed softly. “He’ll probably believe it too, if you say it.”

“I will, then.” Lan Wangji had noticed Wei Wuxian’s eyelids starting to droop, and hoped he’d fall asleep. He was so very pale, despite the flush riding high on his cheeks. “Rest. I’ll stay with you for a little while longer.”

“That sounds nice.” Smiling, Wei Wuxian reached up, lazily trailing his fingers over Lan Wangji’s forehead, where his ribbon would soon be. “But it’s got to be past five now. Aren’t you violating a whole bunch of Lan Sect rules?”

“Nothing important.”

“I really did mean to be there this time, you know. At the conference.” Wei Wuxian stretched, and then curled up in the blanket at Lan Wangji’s side. “I wanted to help you and Jin Ling. And Jiang Cheng, too.”

“I know.”

“I mean, I know I’ve got a bad history when it comes to things like this. But I was sort of looking forward to not making a scene at this conference.”

“Mn.”

“I think, if I just figure out how to terrify Sect Leader Yao a little more, then everything will be fine.”

Eren threw his hands up in the air as he beamed up at Levi. “Let’s go!”

Levi raised a brow. “Uh-huh. What about your boots?”

Eren’s mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise as he stuck out a foot and stared at his bright blue sock.

“Oops.” He looked back up, and as the surprise slid away, the look that replaced it told Levi exactly what he was planning on saying next. “Shi-“

Levi’s finger under his chin cut him off.

The brat grinned up at him. “Shoot!”

“Right.” Shaking his head, Levi leaned forward to set Eren back down on the porch. “Go put on your boots.”

“Okay.” The kid scampered back inside, and Levi looked up at Petra.

She had a hand over her mouth, but he could still see the smile on her face.

“He’d better not be doing that all the time.”

She shook her head. “No. Only when you’re around.” She laughed. “But I think he might have overheard Zoe today when they dropped a jar of paint. I saw him mouthing something to himself afterwards, so I’m pretty sure he was memorizing some new words to try out.”

“Great.” Levi huffed out a breath. “I’ll avoid taking him anyplace with too many people for a while.”

“Sorry.”

Levi shook his head. “He’ll forget it all soon enough.” In any case, both he and Mikasa slipped enough that he was surprised the kid didn’t swear more. “And thank you for keeping him so late this afternoon, Mikasa told me you were supposed to shut early today.”

“It’s okay. He’s a fun kid.”

“He is that.”

“Um, by the way. About tonight.” Petra tightened her arms around herself. “I guess you won’t be able to make it, after all?”

Levi blinked. “Why not? I told Mikasa I’d already promised to do something this evening so I could only look after him for a little while. You said you needed help at your new place, right?”

Her eyes searched his face for a moment, before shifting to the side. “Well actually, I have a thing tonight. So I can’t.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. A thing. With my parents. Christmas Eve and all.” She laughed, though it sounded a little odd. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

“I thought your parents were driving back into town tomorrow afternoon?”

Her eyes flashed back to his, and she looked surprised, for some reason. She huffed out a laugh. This one didn’t sound quite so forced. “I got it mixed up.”

She sighed, and glanced back at the still closed front door before moving down to the bottom step, only a foot away from Levi. “Eren was acting a little strange this morning, so I called his house to find out if he’d had one of his fevers, and Mr. Yeager-” She cut herself off as Eren came stomping back out with boots on.

“Ready!”

“Got everything?”  Levi leaned down to pick him up and settle him back on his hip.

“Yep.”

Levi looked up at Petra. She’d backed up a step and was shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Yeager sounded…unwell.” Glancing down at Eren, she bit her lip. “And a little upset. So when he didn’t show to pick up Eren when he was supposed to I… and Mikasa told me she’s on the long shift today. I just was thinking it’d be better if Eren had another place to stay tonight.”

“Got it.” Levi felt the small arms tighten around his neck, and a wave of familiar anger ran through his gut. Petra was saying – as delicately as possible – that the bastard had sounded drunk, and violent with it. She had no way of knowing that Eren was well aware of all the euphemisms for his father’s particular illness. “Then it’s lucky your parents are in town this evening, after all. Let me know If you still need help with the heavy lifting. Or I can come over one afternoon and get it done while you’re at work, if that’s easier.”

“Sure, Levi.” She smiled softly, even as she retreated backwards, up another stair. “See you around.”

 --

 “You idiot. That had nothing to do with ‘heavy lifting’. She’s been trying to seduce you.”

“That’s impossible, Mikasa.” Levi glanced in the rearview mirror. Eren was staring out the window, his lips moving and his feet bopping along to whatever music was coming out of the headphones Levi had jammed over his head before they’d set out. “She just needed help moving some stuff, that’s all.”

Mikasa snorted, the sound clear and disdainful as it poured out of Levi’s phone on the dash of his car. “It’s Christmas Eve, moron. She pretended her parents were out of town. She moved into her new place months ago and now all of a sudden she has all these still packed boxes she needs help moving? Petra? I don’t think so.”

“It’s not like that. She said she just needed some help with the last few boxes, and then she wanted someone to test the dinner she was making for her parents for tomorrow, since she’d never made it before.”

“Yeah, and then she’d probably pull out a bottle of wine and be all like ‘Oh you’ve helped me so much, let me treat you to a glass as a thank you.’” Mikasa’s voice lilted in a bad imitation of Petra. “And then she’d say ‘why don’t we just finish this bottle?’, and then she’d strip herself naked and drag you off to bed for a fun night of Christmas sex.”

Levi shot a glance back at Eren, relieved to find him still staring out the window. The distraction wouldn’t last, he knew, but at least he wouldn’t have to explain that particular word just yet. “Petra isn’t interested in me like that.”  

“Uh-huh. This is the woman who ‘tripped’ over nothing and landed in your lap at last month’s reading night at the library?”

“That was an accident.”

“Right. And that time you went over to fix her leaky pipe that turned out to be nothing, did she or did she not call you into her bedroom to help her zip up her dress, said dress being almost completely nonexistent and her wearing nothing but skimpy undies underneath?”

“It wasn’t underwear, it was some sort of lace slip thing. And the zipper really was stuck.” Levi ignored the sound Mikasa made as he continued, “I think I’d know if she was trying for me.”

“Yeah, sure. For a smart guy you’re a real idiot when it comes to shi- to stuff like that.”

“You’re not exactly great at reading signals, either.”

“And that’s just one of the many reasons both of us are single on Christmas Eve.” Mikasa sighed, and Levi heard a burst of noise in the background. She’d be in the nurse’s breakroom, he knew, taking what escape she could from the madness that was a hospital during the holidays. “The poor girl has been trying to get in your pants for forever, and you just keep blowing her off. She’ll start taking it personally soon.”

Levi thought of the look on Petra’s face, just before he’d walked away. He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe.”  

“Still, she’s a good person. Giving up her hot date so you can be with Eren. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.” Mikasa paused, sighed again. “It’s flu season, so not only are all the wards full, but we’re shorthanded too.”

“Its fine. I don’t have any shifts for a couple days, and no classes until after New Years.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Will your dad cause trouble if we keep Eren away from home for a bit?”  

“Not my dad. Grisha.” Mikasa corrected absently, as she always did. She was quiet for a long moment, and Levi heard the noise amp up as a door opened in the background again. “Is the nosy one occupied?”

“Now you ask? If he starts asking me what Christmas sex is, I’m telling him to ask you.” But Levi glanced in rearview mirror to double check. “Yeah, for now.”

“I went by the house, when Dad didn’t pick up Eren, just to make sure he hadn’t keeled over. No such luck, but he’d trashed the tree, ripped all the decorations off the walls all over the house. Took the cupcakes some nice neighbor dropped off and smashed them on the kitchen floor. I asked him what I was supposed to tell Eren. He said he didn’t give a fuc- a fudge, it’s his house, his tree, his kid, he pays the dam- darned bills. Blah blah blah.”

As always, she didn’t seem to notice she’d called her adoptive father ‘Dad’. And, as always, Levi didn’t mention it. “Being his usual wonderful drunk self, then.”

“Yeah. I told him to go fudge himself, and that Eren was staying at a friend’s house for a few days. Didn’t mention you by name, of course, since he hates your guts.”

“Break someone’s nose once and they never let it go. Did he trash Eren’s presents too?”

“No, I kept those hidden in the trunk of my car, since the nosy one gets more nosy by the day. I’ll bring them over after my shift finishes. Supposed to be nine, so way things are going I figure I’ll see you maybe by eleven.”

“Ok. Tomorrow it is, then.”

“Hah-hah. Man, I hope not.”

Even as Levi hung up, he saw something bright and orange out of the corner of his eye. Almost as soon as he realized what it was he was pulling the car into a tight u-turn and parking at the side of the road. He opened the back door to find Eren scowling up at him, the headphones in his hands.

“Why’d we stop?” He stretched in the carseat, looking around the outside of the car warily. “This isn’t your house.”

“It’s a surprise.” Levi eyed Eren’s bare feet. He’d managed to pull his shoes off again, and this time his socks had disappeared too. “But you have to wear your boots to find out.”

Eren puffed out his cheeks, eying Levi suspiciously. “Do I really have to?”

Levi nodded. “But if you don’t want to know what the surprise is, you can just stay like this and we’ll go home.” He moved back, as if to close the door again.

Eren let out a long-suffering sigh. “It better be a good surprise.”

“Promise.”

Socks, boots, coat, scarf, hat, and favorite backpack finally back on, they walked hand in hand down the street and into a small Christmas tree lot, surrounded by orange plastic fencing laced through with strings of lights, glowing dimly in the winter sunlight.

Eren glanced around the almost empty enclosure, clearly not understanding why they were there.

Levi squeezed his hand. “Okay, Eren. Let’s pick one.”

“Pick one?”

“Right. Pick a tree. This will be our tree. Yours, Mikasa’s, and mine.”

Eren’s tiny hand squeezed Levi’s fingers as he stared up at him, his wide eyes fastening onto Levi’s face. “Ours?”

“Yeah.”

“Only ours?”

“Right. We’ll put it up and decorate it so Mikasa can see when she comes over.”

Eren hesitated, and moved in a little closer to Levi’s leg before asking, in a much quieter, softer voice, “Is Dad coming over, too?”

The look on his face almost broke Levi’s heart. “Not this time, kid. It’ll just be the three of us.”

“Alright.” Eren nodded slowly, and then smiled up at Levi. “Then we have to pick out the very, very best tree, okay?”

“It’s a deal.”

 --

 One huge tree and one relatively inexpensive trip to the store later – it was already Christmas Eve, after all, and almost everything tree related was on sale – they finally had the thing up in Levi’s apartment. It was so big that the top branches bent over against the ceiling.

Dancing with excitement, Eren darted around the tree, directing Levi as they hung the baubles they’d picked up.

“Here?”

“No, higher!”

“Are you sure? We have a lot of empty space in the middle now.”

“It needs to go high up.”

“Okay then.” Since Eren could only reach about halfway up, and since he’d insisted Levi hang all his decorations near the top, there was a good two feet almost entirely empty of decorations in the middle.

But hey, at least the kid was happy.  

“When will Mikasa be here?” Eren asked, for possibly the millionth time.

“Your sister is coming late tonight, after you go to bed. You’ll see her in the morning.”

“But what time after I go to bed?”

“What does it matter? You’ll be asleep.”

Eren stopped dancing around long enough to scowl up at Levi. “Just answer the question, will you?”

Levi felt his lip twitch, and quickly turned his face away so Eren wouldn’t see his smile. It was always best not to encourage the brat. “She said work might keep her late, so she wasn’t sure.”

“She’ll be here before midnight, right?”  

“She’ll try.”  

“Okay.” Eren nodded to himself, evidently satisfied, and stood on tiptoe to hang a sparkly bauble on the lower half of the tree.

 --

 Long after Eren had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the tree, Levi poured boiling water into two mugs as Mikasa hitched herself up onto the counter beside him.

He shot her a look. “That’s for food. You’re not food. Get off.”

“Don’t be so fussy. You’ll hose it down before you cook anything on it, anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean I want your ass on there in the meantime.” But the shadows under Mikasa’s eyes were deep enough that Levi let it go, mostly. He pulled out a bottle of bleach wipes and pointedly set it next to her hip. “Wipe it off when you get down. Thoroughly.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re such a clean freak.”

“And you’re such a heathen.” Levi lifted the tea bag from her cup, strained it.

“And proud of it.” Mikasa rested her head back against the cabinet behind her and smiled ruefully at Levi. “Who would believe we’re actually related?”

“It’s a mystery.” Handing Mikasa one of the mugs, Levi took his own, leaning back against the oven as he studied her. She really did look tired. And there was something else in her eyes. Something sad.

It made him want to break something.

He’d tracked her down mainly out of curiosity, but it had taken less than an hour of her prickly company for him to realize he actually liked her. It hadn’t taken him much longer than that to realize she wasn’t happy. Over the years she’d become his family, and since he’d do anything for his family, he’d rearranged his life to try and make hers a little better.

And then her baby brother had wrapped his sticky little fingers around Levi’s heart, and the family had grown by one more.

“It must have been a bad scene, when you went back home today.”

“No worse than usual. I just thought- Dad hadn’t been this drunk in a while. I was starting to think maybe something had changed.”

“It won’t be that simple.”

“I know it.” She stared down at the steam rising out of her cup. “I just- I had to leave for work early this morning. Mr. Arlert called me and said Eren was waiting outside the house, by the street, when he came by with Armin to pick him up for the daycare carpool. He wondered why we’d let him outside on his own. He said Eren was a little quiet, nothing too alarming, but just- quiet.”

She lifted her gaze back up to meet Levi’s, and he saw there was guilt mixed in, too. “I think Dad must have done at least some of the house trashing while Eren was home. And from the garbage he spewed out when I was there, he maybe said something to him too.”  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure we’re doing the right thing.”

“This isn’t forever. When we have the resources saved up, you’ll file for custody.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Eren’ll be okay for now. He’s got us.”

“He does. He always will” Her chin jutted up, and Levi was relieved to see heat start to replace the complicated mix of emotions in her eyes.

“See? It’s just a matter of time.”

She blinked, and then cocked her head at him. “You’re pretty smart for such a stupid guy, aren’t you?”

Levi paused, mug halfway to his lips. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You and Petra, huh?”  

“There is no me and Petra.”

She lifted the cup he’d handed her, took her first delicate sip. “She wants there to be.”

“So you say.”

“Come on, Levi, I was mostly kidding about the stupid. Even if you are signal-blind, you have to have figured it out, now that I said something, right?”

Scowling down into his tea, Levi shrugged. “Maybe. So what? It wouldn’t work, anyway.”

“Not with that attitude it won’t.”

“I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

“Why?”

“It’d just get complicated. There’s too much going on.”

Mikasa studied Levi for a long minute, and then shifted her eyes away as she took another sip from her cup. “Bet you wish you’d never tracked me down now, huh?”

Levi stretched a leg out, kicked at Mikasa’s foot. “Knock it off, Mikasa. I don’t regret finding you, or Eren, and I never will.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s so sappy. I think I’m gonna vomit.”

“Not in here you won’t.”

She laughed, and he knew she’d gotten over the worst of the sadness. “We’ll keep him here as long as possible. Dad’ll sober up, remember he’s supposed to be a father. I’ll have to bring him home.”

“And then when your dad gets drunk again we’ll-”  

“Not my dad.” She interrupted him.

“Sorry. Grisha. When he gets drunk again we’ll-”

“Which hopefully won’t be for a while.”

“When it does,” Levi continued on, “We’ll step in. Bring him back here for a while.” He considered for a long second, remembering that afternoon. “I think by next year I’ll have to find an apartment with taller ceilings for the tree he’ll insist on. I had a hard time talking him into this one.”

Mikasa grinned at him. “He’s a great kid.”

“Levi?” Eren’s voice made them both turn towards the door of the kitchen. Scrubbing at his eyes, hair stuck up all over his head, Eren wandered in. His eyes landed on his sister and he brightened. “Mikasa!”  

“Hey kid.” She slid off the counter and moved to scrub at his hair, turning it into even more of a mess.

He ducked away, grabbing her hand and tugging urgently at it until she crouched in front of him. He side-eyed Levi as he whispered loudly into her ear, “Did you bring it?”

“Bring what?”

“The thing. You know.”

Clearly playing with him, she tapped a finger on her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “What thing would that be?”

“Mikasa.”

She grinned at him. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I am, but, Mikasa.” He was almost dancing in place from impatience.

She kissed his cheek with a loud smooch, making him giggle, then turned him to face the living room. “It’s in my purse, by the door. Don’t look in the other bag, oh nosy one.”

With another giggle, Eren ran out of the room.

Mikasa shot Levi a look as she stood. “I bet you’re gonna cry.”

“I am not.”

She picked her tea back up, took a slow sip. “Bet.”

Eren dashed back in and handed Levi a brown envelope.

Slowly, Levi ripped it open. There was a sheet of paper inside, folded in half. When he opened it, he found a hand drawn message, written in messy crayon over neat pencil lines.

To Levi. Happy Birthday. I like you a lot. Thanks for being my family. Eren

Levi ran the pad of his finger over the waxy crayon, and felt something burning the back of his eyes.

“Mikasa helped me write it, but I picked the words.” Bouncing on his toes, Eren watched Levi’s face. “I had to wake up tonight because I had to tell you happy birthday as soon as I could, and give you your card.”

“Thanks kid.” Levi folded the paper delicately, treating it like the treasure it was. “It’s the best birthday card, ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” When Levi crouched down and wrapped Eren in a hug, he looked up at Mikasa.

He’d caught just enough to know they were discussing whether they should ask him about something Lan Qiren had refused to explain, but otherwise he left them to themselves. His reasoning for allowing Sizhui to invite Lan Jingyi into their home - during the time usually allocated for the members of the Gusu Lan Sect to be alone with only their closest family - was so that Sizhui would grow up knowing what it was to enjoy spending time with his friends, so he felt censuring the boys or monitoring them too closely would be counter-productive.

Those precious days he and his brother had spent with their mother, before her death, had been nothing but memories for most of his adolescence. When he had spent his evenings with the few members of his family that still lived and were not in seclusion his time had been occupied with following in his brother’s footsteps, trying to in some way ease the burdens Lan Xichen carried as the heir to the Gusu Lan Sect.

The other disciples, whether of his own sect or visiting Cloud Recesses to study under his uncle, had been of no interest to him. He’d spent his entire childhood studying, training, rigidly learning the rules of his sect in the belief that everything in life would fall neatly into place so long as he followed those rules, without fail.

He’d been wrong. That had been a bloody, pain filled lesson to learn, one that had given him scars he would carry forever.

Lan Wangji didn’t want that for A-Yuan.

Sizhui, at twelve, was changing quickly from the boy he’d been into a young man Lan Wangji could only be proud of. He was clever, bright, gentle, and strong, and since his studies and cultivation progress were fast enough to satisfy the requirements of even the strictest of Lan elders Lan Wangji was largely allowed to raise him as he pleased. So while he’d treasured the time he spent alone with Sizhui, he’d started to encourage him to invite his closest friend as well.

Lan Jingyi’s parents gratefully gave up their own solitary time - likely in the hope that some of Sizhui’s calm demeanor would rub off on their unrestrained son.

Lan Wangji never told them that he hoped for the opposite.

So, while the books on the table in front of the two boys stayed mostly unread, and Lan Jingyi laughed perhaps a little more loudly than was appropriate at something Sizhui whispered into his ear, Lan Wangji simply carried on writing and left them to it.

Still, he registered the moment when the whispering stopped, and he heard the two boys cross the room to stand beside his desk. He glanced up, seeing from the look on their faces that they’d likely decided to ask him whatever they’d been arguing over.

“Speak.”

“Hanguang Jun, could you tell us about the Yiling Patriarch?”

Sizhui’s question hit Lan Wangji with an abruptness that knocked the air out of his lungs. His shock must have shown on his face, as he stared up into Sizhui’s open, innocently curious eyes, because Sizhui’s expression rapidly changed from curiosity to concern.

Lan Jingyi started to speak, but stopped when Sizhui gripped his wrist.

“It’s alright, Hanguang Jun. Actually, Grandmaster didn’t want us to talk about him, so there’s no need for us to know any more.”

Dropping his gaze away, Lan Wangji saw his hand, still holding his brush, frozen in the air halfway to his inkstone. Deliberately, he made his arm move, forcing himself to breathe as he dipped the brush into ink.

“It’s fine. Sit.”

The boys exchanged glances, and then quickly moved to sit in front of the desk.

“Why did you ask?” Not truly knowing what he was writing, but finding it impossible to do nothing, Lan Wangji let his hand move across the paper in front of him.

“One of the outside disciples asked Grandmaster about him in class today. He got…a little upset.” Sizhui spoke cautiously, but Lan Wangji had enough personal experience to know exactly how furious Lan Qiren became at the slightest mention of Wei Wuxian.  

“I see.”

“He said that the Yiling Patriarch had followed a heretical path, threatening the entire cultivation world, and so the greater sects banded together to defeat him at great cost. He said that nothing else about him was worth discussing, so he wouldn’t speak of him anymore.”

“And then he told the disciple who asked about him to copy Virtue twice.” Lan Jingyi added.

Sizhui nodded, “Yes. And then, well, Jingyi…” He slid a sideways glance at his friend.  

“I said that if the path he followed was really all that bad I didn’t understand why we still use his compass and talismans to night hunt.” Lan Jingyi shuddered a little at the memory. “He, uh, got a lot more angry. His face went really red. There was spit on my table.”

“He told Jingyi to copy Virtue five times, and Conduct too.”

Lan Wangji was only surprised Lan Qiren had stopped there. Since he felt calmer now, he let himself look over at the table where the two had been sitting, still covered in closed books and blank sheets of paper.

“And is that what you were doing?”

A little embarrassed, Lan Jingyi tugged at his ear. “Sorry, Hanguang Jun. I’ll do it in the morning. It doesn’t take me long to get through, I’ve had to do it so many times.”

Lan Wangji studied him, and in a corner of his mind decided he’d come up with something new the next time he had to punish the junior disciples. Simply copying was clearly no longer enough.

“But Grandmaster did tell us a little more after that.” Sizhui continued. “He said that the Yiling Patriarch’s methods had blackened his own soul, turning him into a monster who would corrupt anyone who got too close to him. He said that he’d even left his mark on the Gusu Lan Sect, though he wouldn’t say how, or who.”

Lan Jingyi nodded. “He just said that now the Yiling Patriarch couldn’t corrupt anyone but himself any more than he already had, so he was glad he was dead.”

At that, Lan Wangji’s brief calm scattered. His hands formed into fists, tightening, and tightening more until he felt the silent snap of the wooden brush he’d forgotten he still held.

Gently, carefully, he laid it down on the desk.

“He really wouldn’t say more after that. But after class the outside disciples were talking.” Lan Jingyi said. “One of the Lanling Jin Sect disciples, especially. He told everyone that the Yiling Patriarch was a traitor who defected after the Sunshot Campaign, and that a bunch of cultivators died because of him when they tried to defend themselves from the- well, he called them the Wen-dogs and-”

Lan Wangji’s head snapped up. “Don’t allow others to refer to them in that way.”

“Oh no, we didn’t.” Lan Jingyi glanced at Sizhui, who flushed a little and ducked his head. “Sizhui told them not to. That was when all the rest of the Jin disciples got huffy and tried to make Sizhui apologize, because they said he’d insulted Lianfang Zun’s cousin, and when he wouldn’t they tried to start a fight, which is even more stupid because Sizhui-” Lan Jingyi’s words cut off abruptly when he turned his head again and caught the wide-eyed alarm on Sizhui’s face. “Um- well. Anyway, Sizhui told him not to do that anymore. And no one fought anyone, at all.”

Sizhui didn’t quite meet Lan Wangji’s eyes as he hurriedly spoke. “All the disciples had stories about him digging up someone’s ancestor, or cursing some clan for offending him. Sect Leader Yao’s son said his father always talks about how ungrateful he was, how he would have been nothing at all if it weren’t for the Yunmeng Jiang Sect taking him in, and then he killed them all except for Sect Leader Jiang. But only because he killed him first.”

“Yes.” Lan Jingyi nodded, “But he also said his father told him that the Yiling Patriarch steals bad children away in the night if they don’t listen to their parents, and he still believes him, so I don’t think we can trust anything he says.”  

“I suppose not. And a lot of the rest of the stories don’t really add up, like him going around and poisoning wells, or making food stores go rotten. If he really did half the things they said then he must have had a great deal of spare time on his hands.”

“I bet most of the rumors are made up.” Lan Jingyi snorted. “Like him stealing people’s wives.”

That caught Lan Wangji’s attention. “Stealing people’s wives?”

“Apparently some clan head’s wife was kidnapped by the Yiling Patriarch. But we think she ran off with him on her own and her husband was just too ashamed to tell everyone the truth.”

Considering, Lan Wangji angled his head. “Hm.”

“But…” Sizhui looked at Lan Wangji. “Even if most of the rumors about the things he did are made up, Grandmaster said that when the sects fought against him, especially at the end, a lot of people died. That part was true, wasn’t it?”

Lan Wangji studied Sizhui’s expression for a long second, before nodding.

“So he was an evil person?”

The question, said so simply, dug under Lan Wangji’s skin like a sharp, jagged blade. Not speaking, he dropped his gaze to the paper he’d been mindlessly writing on. To his utter shock he saw he’d drawn the characters for Wei Ying’s name.

Simply seeing that intimate name, so bold and black against the white of the paper, Lan Wangji felt his thoughts turn to smoke.  

He hadn’t planned to explain Wei Ying to Sizhui yet. He hadn’t known how. If he couldn’t make his brother or his uncle understand the faith he felt in him, despite everything he’d done, how could he explain it in a way a child would accept? Especially A-Yuan. Lan Wangji couldn’t bear the idea of A-Yuan hating Wei Ying. Or worse, of him being glad he was dead.

And yet now the child he had watched Wei Ying carry in his arms was asking him, in all innocence and trust, if the man who had saved him had been evil.

When Lan Wangji lifted his head to meet Sizhui’s eyes, he found them calm and direct, as they nearly always were. Lan Jingyi beside him had his mouth clamped shut, though he looked as though he was almost vibrating in place while he waited for Lan Wangji to answer Sizhui’s question.

Somehow, even the silence of the room seemed be holding its breath, waiting for him to speak. But Lan Wangji’s head was empty of coherent thought, so even when he opened his mouth he had no idea what would come out.

“He was very irritating.”

The two young faces watching him showed almost as much surprise as Lan Wangji felt, and yet the words continued to pour out of him.  

“He was loud, obnoxious, aggravating. Noisy. Completely shameless. Impossible to ignore. It was hard to focus on anything else, when he was beside you. He’d make you furious, and then he’d do something that made you feel as if he was the most remarkable person you’d ever met. And then he’d make you furious again.”

Lan Wangji dropped his eyes, studied the curving lines of black ink on the paper in front of him. “He was always laughing.”

“Laughing?” Sizhui asked, when Lan Wangji said nothing else.

“Mn. Even when the situation seemed terrible, he’d find something to laugh about.” Lan Wangji stared at the broken brush on his desk. There had been times Wei Ying hadn’t been able to laugh. He didn’t like remembering those times, since they held a great many of his own worst memories.

“He wasn’t a fool though, was he?” Lan Jingyi asked, leaning forward, unable to keep quiet any longer. “He couldn’t have done everything he did if he was.”

“He wasn’t. But he’d pretend to be one, if he needed to.”

Lan Jingyi frowned. “Why would he need to?”

“To protect himself, to protect others.” He ignored the blank looks on the boy’s faces. It was something he’d seen Wei Ying do again and again, but it was so alien to Lan Wangji’s own character that he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain it any more clearly. “Protecting others was…very important to Wei- to Wei Wuxian.”

“So that rumor about him defecting to the Qishan Wen Sect and defending it from the rest of the sects – that was true?”

Hesitating, Lan Wangji wondered how to explain. Especially to Sizhui, who would one day very much need to understand the truth behind that particular story.

“In a way, yes.”

“In a way?”

“The Qishan Wen Sect was destroyed in the Sunshot Campaign. After that, all that was left was the people.”

Sizhui suddenly frowned. “The people?”

“Oh, I think I know what you mean.” Lan Jingyi sat up straight, speaking eagerly as he turned to Sizhui. “Grandmaster told us that by the time Lianfang Zun killed Wen Ruohan, his sons and most of his generals were already dead, so there wasn’t really much fighting after that. The territory was divided between the other sects.” He looked up at Lan Wangji. “The people must have been taken in along with their lands, right?”

”No.” Sizhui spoke slowly, before Lan Wangji could say anything. “Remember, the disciple from Qinghe was talking about that today, after all the Jin disciples left? He said that some Lanling Jin clans actually used to be under the Qishan Wen Sect, which was why a few of them looked really uncomfortable when we were talking about the Yiling Patriarch defecting. He said that Sect Leader Nie had shown him records listing which of the clans bordering Qinghe had been brought in by Chifeng Zun because they’d already intermarried with Nie Sect clans before the Sunshot Campaign, but he told him some of the richer clans were taken in by the Lanling Jin Sect.”

“Then who did the Yiling Patriarch side with?”

“I think I- I might know what happened.” Sizhui started, and then shut his mouth.

Lan Wangji met his eyes again and saw, with both pride and a little regret, the understanding in them. “Go on.”

“Some clans would have been useful to the greater sects, especially the ones with more money, or with valuable cultivators.” As he spoke, Sizhui watched Lan Wangji’s face, reading his reactions. “Especially if they were powerful enough that their belongings couldn’t simply be seized. But not all of the clans under Qishan Wen would have had those resources. And not everyone would have belonged to a clan. The ones without, maybe – were those the people the Yiling Patriarch sided with?”

Lan Jingyi nodded. “It makes sense. I mean, if the other sects felt the Gusu Lan Sect had done something very wrong and attacked us tomorrow, what would happen to the ordinary people of Gusu? Or even retired cultivators, or former disciples who decided to go be farmers, or fishermen instead. They’d be in the way.”

Saying nothing, Lan Wangji watched the two young men as they, on their own, saw into the complexities of something that many of his own generation, and his uncle’s, still remained blind to.

Sizhui nodded. “I think the Yiling Patriarch must have had a strong sense of justice.”

Lan Jingyi made a face and elbowed Sizhui. “See? Told you those rumors were stupid. No one is that petty. And he sounds so much more interesting than all the other boring people Grandmaster goes on and on about all the time.” Abruptly, as if suddenly remembering who else was in the room, he shot Lan Wangji a slightly panicked look.

Sizhui spoke quickly, attracting Lan Wangji’s attention. “Was the Yiling Patriarch very weak, when he was younger? Was that why he chose to find other ways to gain power?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, slowly, as he let himself remember the past. “He ranked near the top whenever the clans competed. We fought a few times. He was a strong swordsman.”

“Better than you?” Lan Jingyi blurted out the question, his eyes wide.

“No.” Lan Wangji said immediately, and then paused for a moment before correcting himself. “I don’t know. At first we never fought to the end, so neither of us ever beat the other. And after the Sunshot Campaign he stopped carrying his sword.”

“If he was that good, why didn’t he use his sword anymore?”

It was a question Lan Wangji had asked over and over, and one Wei Ying had given him so many different answers to. He’d say he’d forgotten it. Or it had gotten in his way, so he’d set it down somewhere. He hadn’t felt like carrying it. It hadn’t matched his outfit. It was too easy to beat others and he’d gotten bored of everyone challenging him.

The more charitable people around them had said he was simply forgetful. More had called him out for being deliberately rude.

Lan Wangji had worried that he’d become too drunk on the power of the resentful spirits he’d learned to control to go back to using a simple sword, but even that answer had never fit any better than the ones Wei Ying had given him.  

So, for now, Lan Wangji could only shake his head. “I don’t know. He used his flute, Chenqing, and he used the other talismans and tools he invented.”

Lan Jingyi sat up straight. “Talismans? Like the ones we’re learning to use when we go night hunting?”

“Mn.”

“There were others, like those?”

“He made many. The ones you use…they deviate from the orthodox, but are considered necessary evils. Others go too far. I doubt you’ll ever see them. But…” Lan Wangji hesitated, before continuing. “Some were different.”

“Different?”

“Mn. When we were young. He was always coming up with new things.” Lan Wangji looked into the boy’s eager faces, and wondered if it was selfish of him to want to show them this other side of Wei Ying.

But this was Wei Ying, to him, in all his complexity.

Making up his mind, he reached into his sleeve and drew out a talisman, activating and releasing it in one smooth motion.

A shimmering cloud of golden light exploded into the room. Sizhui and Lan Jingyi shot to their feet, their faces full of wonder as glittering butterflies filled the air  

“In a fight, these distract, buy time to escape. They’re useful when there are people who can’t defend themselves close by.” Lan Wangji sat where he was, watching, remembering. He’d used this particular trick often, over the years. It had helped save him more than once.

A moment later, he realized that while Lan Jingyi was still staring up at the butterflies, awestruck, Sizhui had turned his head and was looking back at him instead.

“They’re very pretty.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji nodded.

Sizhui smiled, softly, and his young eyes were full of understanding. “I think I have an idea of what kind of person the Yiling Patriarch was now.” He took Lan Jingyi’s arm to get his attention, and led him into a shallow bow. “Thank you for telling us. We’ll get back to work.”

 -

 Later, Lan Wangji sat alone.

He’d gone back to writing, with a new brush, while Sizhui had gotten Lan Jingyi through his copying. But Sizhui had left to bring Lan Jingyi home and the room had suddenly become far too quiet without the noise the two boys had been making to fill it.

Suddenly restless, Lan Wangji swept to his feet.

It was well past twilight and music was forbidden at night in Cloud Recesses, but that was one of the rules Lan Wangji had long since decided he couldn’t follow. Sitting in front of his guqin, he let his fingers start to play over the strings.

Music began to echo through the room. At first he kept to soothing, steadying songs, but when his mind refused to settle he began to pour the restlessness he felt, the turmoil beneath his rigid calm, out into the notes he played.

Bit by bit, he felt himself empty.

After a while, the music changed, becoming something close to peaceful, and Lan Wangji saw a movement in the doorway. He looked up, and found Sizhui standing just outside, watching him.

He placed his hands across the strings to quiet them.

“Did you bring Lan Jingyi home?”

Sizhui nodded, and then hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

There was no denying it, even if Lan Wangji had thought there was a good reason he should. “It’s alright to be sad, sometimes.”

“Yes, I know. You taught me that.” Smiling softly, Sizhui walked into the room and dropped down lightly to sit beside Lan Wangji at the guqin table. “I’m still sorry for it.”

He said nothing else, and after a moment Lan Wangji began to play again. This time he played another song, one he’d made when Sizhui had been young and hadn’t wanted to go to sleep.

It was a long while before Sizhui spoke. “Hanguang Jun, there is one thing I don’t understand. Can I ask you another question?”

“Mn.”

“Why did you oppose him so strongly?”

Still playing, Lan Wangji let himself put his words together in his head before he spoke. “For a while, I wasn’t sure he was the same as he’d always been. I thought the power he used had changed him. Or would.”

“So you fought against him.”

“At first.” Lan Wangji nodded. “But not at the end. I realized the core of him had not changed, even though his methods were dangerous.” To others, and to Wei Ying himself.

Sizhui studied him. “But not evil.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers stopped playing, and he sat still, watching the strings continue to vibrate for a long moment.

“What is evil?”

Instantly, he wished he could take the words back. He lifted his head, his lips forming an apology, but Sizhui was already speaking.

“I guess there isn’t a simple answer to that, is there?” Drawing his legs up beneath him in a pose he only used when it was the two of them alone, Sizhui settled himself more comfortably. “You could look at someone’s actions, or the effects of their actions, but I don’t think that would give you an answer either. I mean, good people must do bad things sometimes, or the other way around.”

He wasn’t watching Lan Wangji, so he missed the startled shock on his face as he continued. “Like Jingyi. Last week he was playing around and tripped one of the older disciples. He broke his arm, so he can’t go night hunting for a few months and he’s going to be behind the rest of his class, and he can’t write so Grandmaster has him standing up and answering all his exam questions out loud, in front of everybody, and he’s doing really, really badly at it. But then there was that disciple who was expelled last month because he stole someone else’s food from home, and then he lied and tried to make it look like a maid took it. Jingyi maybe caused more lasting harm, but didn’t get expelled. He just got yelled at a lot, and has to run around helping the older disciple all day.”

Shrugging easily, Sizhui’s eyes were still on the night sky outside the open door as he continued. “I think evil would probably have to come from people’s intentions, and those are really hard to see. Until you know someone really well, anyway.” He turned his head to look up at Lan Wangji, and smiled. “I trust you. If you trusted him, then I will too, for now, until I see a good reason to change my mind. Does that work?”

“Mn. I think it works very well.” Lips curving, Lan Wangji reached out to adjust Sizhui’s perfectly straight forehead ribbon. “I think that’s enough questions now. It’s close to nine. Go, get ready for bed.”

Instantly, Sizhui’s too adult expression changed into something a great deal younger. “But I have more questions. Can’t I stay up?”

“More questions. Really?”

Sizhui giggled, a sound that had become rare enough as he grew older that it tugged at Lan Wangji’s heart every time he heard it. “No. But I can come up with some.”

“Go to sleep, Sizhui. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 -

 After Sizhui was gone, Lan Wangji stood in the open doorway of his home. He watched his mother’s purple gentian dance in the soft, warm breeze, and thought of Wei Ying.

A monster with a black soul? No. He didn’t believe that.

He’d had too long to remember every moment they’d known each other. He’d traced through all the times Wei Ying had thrown himself into danger for his sister, his brother, for random cultivators on the battlefields whose names he’d never even known. For Wen Ning. For A-Yuan.

The times he’d risked himself for Lan Wangji.

When Wei Ying had come back so changed after the burning of Lotus Pier and the endless months he’d been missing, Lan Wangji had felt torn apart, uncertain of everything. Wei Ying had started down a path that had left him alone against the rest of the world, and the rules Lan Wangji had governed his life by told him he had to stand on the side of the world.

He’d fractured himself apart with his own uncertainty, and by the time he’d put himself back together it had been too late. Wei Ying had been dead. If there was any way Lan Wangji could go back and tell his younger self to dive in, to stand firmly beside Wei Ying the way he’d so desperately wanted to back then, he’d go in an instant.

He knew that if he ever had the chance again, in another life, he’d throw every fragment of his soul in beside Wei Ying’s.

There was no more uncertainty left. He’d go against the universe itself if he had to.

Turning his face up to the sky, Lan Wangji took in a deep breath, and for the moment, since he was alone, let himself feel the depths of the sorrow and longing that lived inside his soul, always.

  Present.

There were tears on Lan Wangji’s face when he woke. Blinking into the darkness of his room, he heard again the rustling that must have woken him an instant before Wei Ying’s freezing body dove under the blankets and burrowed in beside him.

The nose pressing into the crook of his neck was as cold as ice. Lan Wangji stroked his hands down Wei Ying’s back, feeling the cold radiating off of him. “How did it go?”

“Freezing.” Wei Ying nestled in closer to Lan Wangji. “But the juniors did well.”

“Was it a ghost?”

“Uh huh.” Yawning, Wei Ying’s body started to relax against Lan Wangji’s. “You’ve got a good batch there. The ghost turned out to be the late wife of the man who asked us for help. She was haunting him because he’d opened up her grave to steal her jewelry, to give it to the woman he’s been trying to talk into marrying him. I was happy to leave him to her, once we figured out what was happing. Jingyi was too.” Wei Ying snorted, and then paused, considering. “Actually, maybe I’ve corrupted the rest of them too because I think they mostly all felt the same way. I sort of wished Jin Ling or Ouyang Zizhen were they, they’d probably have run the guy through before Sizhui talked us all out of it.”

He sighed, and pressed his face against the heat of Lan Wangji’s chest. “He pointed out the poor dead wife didn’t deserve to be stuck to the man for the rest of her existence, so we returned all her jewelry and helped her rest. I did enjoy putting the fear of me into the husband, though. He’ll leave her things alone now. And I suppose Sizhui had a point about it being the right thing to do.”

His hair tickled Lan Wangji’s nose as he shook his head. “Honestly, that boy almost always is right. It makes me mad at you, sometimes. How’d you get to raise such a smart kid?”

“He was smart when I got him.”

Wei Ying raised his head, and moonlight sparkled in his eyes as he grinned at Lan Wangji. The grin vanished in an instant the moment he saw Lan Wangji’s face.

“You were crying? What’s wrong?” Panicked, he pushed himself up until he could sweep his hands over Lan Wangji’s cheeks.

“It’s alright. Just a memory.”  

“A bad one?”

“No, not really.” Not anymore.

Wei Ying waited, and when Lan Wangji said nothing more, rolled his eyes. “Lan Zhan. Are you going to tell me about it, or not?”

Lan Wangji’s lips curved. “Not.”

Wei Ying huffed out a breath, but there was relief on his face as he saw Lan Wangji truly did not look unhappy. And then he blinked, and grinned as mischief grew in his eyes. He lifted one leg to drape it teasingly over Lan Wangji’s hips. “Maybe I can convince you to talk?”

In one quick move, Lan Wangji flipped their bodies, until he was looking down at Wei Ying beneath him.

“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.” Laughing up at him, Wei Ying lifted his fingers to trace them over Lan Wangji’s face.

Lan Wangji pressed his cheek into the palm of Wei Ying’s hand, and felt a happy warmth grow in his chest, dispelling the very last echoes of remembered sadness. He smiled down at Wei Ying.