Archive of Our Own

• No loud noises in Cloud Recesses

The first real thing anyone told Lan Yuan was his name.

He woke up in a bed overlooking a mountainside. It was too big for his tiny body, intended for someone much more grown than him. The sheets drowned him, making his already frail frame seem even smaller.

He had cried, of course. Even as he did it, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was crying. He didn’t want anything in that moment except maybe a loving hand. He just knew that he was feeling too much and he needed to get his feelings out.

The noise attracted a short woman in white. She was old, with hair pulled back loosely over her shoulder. Something in the crinkles of her eyes brought something to the edge of his consciousness but he couldn’t reach it, so he let it go.

“Hello, dear,” she said softly, gently touching his forehead with the back of his hand. Her hand was deliciously cool and he realized how warm he was. She clucked her tongue.

“You’ll be here for a while, A-Yuan,” she said. “We’re going to be good friends.”

He opened his mouth carefully. His lips were chapped and his throat was dry, but he still forced the words out.

“A-Yuan?”

Her face tightened slightly before relaxing back into her gentle smile.

“Your name is Lan Yuan, dear,” she said. “Don’t you remember? You’re in Gusu now, where you belong.”

Lan Yuan. The name felt familiar and he decided she must be telling the truth. He was Lan Yuan.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and gave him another gentle smile.

“I’m going to get Hanguang-Jun. He’ll want to talk to you now that you’re awake. Will you be alright by yourself?”

He nodded dazedly and she left the room. It wasn’t until he was once again alone that fear welled up in his heart. He didn’t know where he was. There were memories, people , pushing at his mind but whenever he reached out, they slipped between his fingers.

The tears came more quickly and desperately this time. He wailed into his pillow, clutching the sleeves of a loose white robe. He cried until a strong pair of arms wrapped around him and lifted him up.

He thrashed around at first, trying to break free, but the arms only tightened around him. Slowly, his sobs petered out and he looked up at the person holding him.

It was a tall, imposing man with strong features. He held A-Yuan securely but his face was quietly bewildered. It surprised A-Yuan so much that his sobs petered off and he looked up at the man with quiet confusion.

“Hello,” the man said quietly. “Do you remember me?”

A-Yuan scrunched his eyebrows together to take a good luck at the man before shaking his head.

“No,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t remember the man’s face, but the feeling of being held in his arms was quietly familiar. He didn’t know how to explain that with his limited child’s vocabulary, so he didn’t bother.

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” the man said. “You may call me… well, you may call me what you wish.”

“I don’t know what I want to call you,” A-Yuan said, scrunching his face up. The man opened his mouth but was interrupted by the elderly nurse coming back in the room.

“Now you look much happier in your father’s arms,” she cooed. “My, Hanguang-Jun, the family resemblance is strong. You silly boy, why didn’t you bring him to us sooner?”

A-Yuan looked at the man with wide, shocked eyes.

“You’re my father?” he asked quietly, reverently. The man’s face grew pinched but he nodded.

“Yes, A-Yuan,” he said. “Are you tired?”

The excitement of the day caught up with the child and he found himself nodding sleepily. The excitement of the day and the impressive strain against his disorientation had left him truly exhausted. The man, his father , gave him a soft smile.

“Then we will go home,” he said, and they did.

• Do not be difficult with food

A-Yuan was seven years old when Hanguang-Jun took him into Caiyi Town for the first time.

He had been begging his father to take him on a night hunt since he had started training as an inner disciple of Cloud Recesses. Hanguang-Jun, like any responsible parent, had refused. He hadn’t even cracked when A-Yuan gave him his best pout, something that usually made Hanguang-Jun give him anything he wanted.

In the end, they had come to a compromise. Hanguang-Jun would take him next time he was tasked with putting up protective talismans around the town. He would be able to see his father work without experiencing the danger that usually accompanied his job.

Lan Jingyi had never been part of the deal, but no one was surprised when he ended up coming along anyway.

Lan Jingyi was everything a Lan disciple was taught not to be. He was boisterous, fond of running and shouting and generally making a nuisance of himself. He was also, to Hanguang-Jun’s quiet chagrin, A-Yuan’s best friend.

His father may scold Jingyi more than the average disciple but A-Yuan saw the way that he treated him with a gentle kindness he reserved for those he cared about. So he invited Jingyi on the outing and hoped that Hanguang-Jun wouldn’t be too upset.

If he was, he didn’t show it, just held them both to his chest as they flew on Bichen down the mountain to the town. The boys’ eyes were wide as they took in the rapidly changing scenery below them that eventually turned into a small town.

“Can we explore, Hanguang-Jun?” Jingyi asked excitedly, tugging on his robes impatiently. “Can we please?”

“We’re here to work,” Hanguang-Jun said softly, but he didn’t look convinced.

“Please, father,” A-Yuan chimed in and Hanguang-Jun just sighed and came to a stop in the middle of the bustling city center.

“We must return before nightfall,” he warned them. “And stay close to me.”

Both boys nodded eagerly, delight apparent on their faces as they took in the city. Food vendor stalls lined the slow river and the scents intermingled. It was a marked contrast from the bland, medicinal food of Cloud Recesses and A-Yuan couldn’t help but eye the stalls hungrily.

Hanguang-Jun saw him looking and for a moment, it seemed like a smile quirked on his face but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.

“What do you want to eat?” he asked them. Their eyes grew wide.

“Can we really?” A-Yuan asked. “Teacher Lan won’t mind?”

“Uncle used to bring me and Zewu-Jun here when we were small,” Hanguang-Jun said. “The stalls haven’t changed.”

A-Yuan couldn’t imagine the stoic Lan Qiren leading his father by the hand to a food vendor but he didn’t say anything, too eager to try anything and everything

The first thing they tried was a basket of loquats. A-Yuan tried one and decided he didn’t like it but Jingyi ate the basket quite happily, still marveling at the bustle of city life. Hanguang-Jun watched them with a quiet amusement that A-Yuan happily realized was visible only to him.

They tried a soup next, with A-Yuan and Jingyi sharing a single bowl between them. It was fragrant and delicious and made A-Yuan resolve to never eat the medicinal broth of Cloud Recesses ever again.

“Can I take the soup back home with me, father?” A-Yuan asked. 

“How would you do that?”

“I can carry the bowl very carefully so I don’t spill as we fly,” A-Yuan explained patiently. Hanguang-Jun’s lips quirked, a tiny flicker of movement.

“No, A-Yuan,” he said. “But I promise we can come back.”

Mollified, A-Yuan returned to his culinary explorations. A stall further down the waterfront caught his eye. A man was stirring a large pot of a thick, reddish curry. It smelled heavenly .

“Father,” A-Yuan said, tugging at Hanguang-Jun’s robes. “I want to try that next.”

Hanguang-Jun looked at the stall and something flickered in his eye. A-Yuan thought he was good at reading his father’s emotions, certainly much better than the other disciples, but he couldn’t recognize the emotion on his face. Was it joy or sadness?

But it was gone so quickly that A-Yuan thought perhaps he had imagined it. Hanguang-Jun just nodded and took their hands again, walking with them to the vendor.

“A bowl, please,” he said, handing over the money. The man bowed quickly at the sight of a cultivator in expensive robes and ladled out a heaping bowl for them.

“Careful,” Hanguang-Jun warned as he gave it to them. “You aren’t used to the spice.”

Jingyi seemed to take that as a challenge, excitedly taking a bite before dropping his spoon like it had burned him. His face was an unusual shade of red and he seemed unable to breathe, just fanning himself desperately. Hanguang-Jun wordlessly handed over a jar of water.

A-Yuan watched the scene with interest before taking a bite himself. The curry was good and rich and burned the top of his mouth ever so slightly. But it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling and he ate another bite, ignoring Jingyi’s look of marvel. Even though he was certain he had never tasted it before, something about the dish felt familiar and homely, and A-Yuan felt a deep ache he couldn’t explain.

“Oh,” Hanguang-Jun said. “Of course.”

A-Yuan looked up at his father and almost dropped his spoon like Jingyi. There was no mistaking the raw sadness in his eyes. It was quickly hidden behind the impenetrable mask that Hanguang-Jun always wore but it was too late. A-Yuan had seen it.

Something twisted inside of him and he reacted blindly.

“I don’t want it,” he said, holding the bowl out. “I changed my mind.”

Hanguang-Jun finished the bowl.

• Do not make assumptions about others

Jingyi started accompanying them to feed the rabbits when both boys were eleven. It had started when he would wait impatiently outside the Jingshi for Sizhui (that was what A-Yuan was called now, had been his name since he first pledged himself as a junior disciple of the Cloud Recesses) when they had a rare day off so they could play together. He had intercepted them with a basket of vegetables in Hanguang-Jun’s hand one morning, so they had just taken him with them. It became a ritual for them. Even after Sizhui had turned twelve and moved into the dormitories, they had kept up the tradition, visiting the rabbits as a group of three.

When Hanguang-Jun and Sizhui visited the rabbits alone, they would often sit in a comfortable silence. Hanguang-Jun would answer any question Sizhui asked, and occasionally asked one of his own, but most days they went about their tasks silently. Sometimes Hanguang-Jun would bring his guqin and Sizhui would listen, raptured, as he played gently. He grew to treasure these precious mornings when they were allowed to simply exist as a family.

But he loved Jingyi and appreciated his company, so he never minded when he would accompany them. They would often converse quietly, as Jingyi could barely stay silent for the duration of a meal, and Hanguang-Jun would hum occasionally to show he was listening, but rarely had a contribution of his own. Living full-time with a group of boys, it was some of the only privacy they got, and they relished in it, talking about anything and everything.

They talked about the other boys more often than not, as they scarcely knew of anyone else and couldn’t speak about their elders. It was a soft spring morning when they went to feed the rabbits. Sizhui was fifteen and had been living in the dormitories for some years. This time with Hanguang-Jun had become even more precious to him, so when Teacher Lan gave them the day off, he and Jingyi hurried off to the rabbit colony. Hanguang-Jun was there already, playing his guqin softly. The rabbits bounced around happily, nestling into the folds of his robes.

He nodded at them when they approached, his fingers never pausing in their plucking. They greeted him eagerly and got the vegetables out of the basket they had brought, settling down on the ground next to each other and gently feeding them to the closest rabbits.

“Say, Sizhui,” Jingyi said quietly so he didn’t disturb Hanguang-Jun’s playing. “Did you hear what they’re saying about the new disciple? The older one that just moved into our rooms?”

Sizhui shook his head, stroking a rabbit behind its ears. 

“He’s kind,” he said. “I like him.”

“There’s a rumor going around that he’s a cutsleeve,” Jingyi said, poking an offending finger in the rabbit’s face that got promptly nipped. He scowled and shook his hand. Sizhui didn’t notice him. Hanguang-Jun’s guqin was a wonderful constant in his life, something that had soothed him and put him to sleep more times than he could count. So he was finely attuned to the melodies it could produce and distinctly heard the slight hesitation in the plucking following Jingyi’s words. The music continued on as if nothing had gone amiss but it was too late. Sizhui had heard it.

“Mhm,” he said at last, heart racing. He didn’t know what to do. Why was Hanguang-Jun interested in their conversation? Surely he wasn’t going to punish the boy for something so far outside his control? “I didn’t know.”

Jingyi continued on, oblivious.

“Yeah! One of the other disciples saw him in Caiyi Town with a man wearing make-up. They were acting really friendly,” Jingyi said. The rabbit that had bit him hopped out of Sizhui’s lap and nestled against his leg. He sighed and pulled it into a lap, lightly scratching its head.

“Maybe it was a misunderstanding,” Sizhui said at last, glancing at Hanguang-Jun out of the corner of his eye. This time, the guqin stopped playing completely.

“Do not make assumptions about others,” he said quietly. Something plummeted inside Sizhui, and he got the distinct feeling that he failed some sort of test. Before he could think on that, Jingyi bowed deeply to Hanguang-Jun.

“Yes, Hanguang-Jun!” he said loudly. “I will accept any punishment you deem necessary.”

He nudged Sizhui and Sizhui copied him, mumbling the same words. His mind reeled. They often talked about the other boys on these trips and Hanguang-Jun had never commented before.

Hanguang-Jun just shook his head and returned to his guqin playing. Sizhui and Jingyi exchanged startled looks. It was unusual for him to chastise them outside of the classroom, but more unusual for the scolding to not be followed by punishment.

Sizhui didn’t bring it up until later, when he and Hanguang-Jun were clearing away the plates from their dinner. He still took his meals in the Jingshi when Hanguang-Jun wasn’t busy with his sect responsibilities. 

“Father,” he said quietly, when the last of the dishes had been swept away. “I know that it is wrong to discuss others behind their back but please, don’t punish the new disciple.”

Hanguang-Jun’s eyes widened. It would have been imperceptible if Sizhui hadn’t grown up with him.

“Punish?” he said softly. Sizhui nodded emphatically.

“I know that he’s breaking the rules, but you only know because of my and Jingyi’s carelessness, so it really wouldn’t be fair…” Sizhui trailed off at last. Hanguang-Jun was looking at him curiously and Sizhui once again felt like he had gotten something grievously wrong.

“What rule has he broken?” Hanguang-Jun said at last. His voice was softer than usual.

Sizhui blushed.

“The rules against… well, relationships… although I suppose we don’t know that he…” Sizhui said. His eyes widened. “Oh.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded.

“I am not aware of any rule forbidding falling in love,” Hanguang-Jun said at last. There was a quiet sadness in his eye, like he was watching a scene from far away. The novelty of it gave Sizhui the courage to ask his next question.

“Have you ever been in love, Father?” he asked. Hanguang-Jun met his eyes, expression unreadable, even to Sizhui.

He was silent for a long moment and Sizhui began to panic, ready to bow and apologize for his impudence, but there was no need.

“Yes,” he said simply. His tone was firm, a clear end to the conversation, but Sizhui pushed anyway.

“What happened to her?” he asked. If anything, the question made Hanguang-Jun seem even farther away.

“Died,” he said simply. “Before you came to Cloud Recesses.”

“Oh,” Sizhui said, flushing. He had guessed as much. The aunties who had taken care of him when he was a young child had speculated that he was the bastard child of Hanguang-Jun and a mysterious lover when they thought he couldn’t hear. Those whispers had followed him through adolescence. Even Jingyi had asked who his mother was. A whore? A peasant woman? Sizhui had been unable to give him an answer. Privately, he never thought he was related to Hanguang-Jun by blood. It seemed unimaginable that he would ever have a relationship with a woman. But he had never asked, and now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Was she my mother?” Sizhui asked at last. Hanguang-Jun stilled. His hand unconsciously brushed Bichen’s hilt, the way it did when he was nervous. Sizhui watched him with bated breath.

Hanguang-Jun mumbled something under his breath and Sizhui shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Father, I can’t hear you,” he said. Hanguang-Jun met his eyes.

“He was your father,” Hanguang-Jun said at last. Sizhui tilted his head.

“Who was?” he asked. Nothing about this made sense.

“The one I loved,” Hanguang-Jun said. “The one I loved was your father.”

The words hung in the air between them for a long moment before they registered. Sizhui flushed spectacularly red and stared openly at Hanguang-Jun. He could never imagine Hanguang-Jun with a woman, to be certain, but the thought that he himself was a cut-sleeve had never occurred to him. The interaction from that morning rearranged itself in his mind.

“Oh,” he said faintly at last. “I didn’t know.”

Hanguang-Jun looked at him. From the outside, he appeared as impassive as always, but Sizhui could see the tension on his brow, the tightness of his lips.

“Are you bothered by this?” he said at last. “That I have loved a man?”

“No,” Sizhui said, and was surprised to find he meant it. “I am glad, Father, that you have fallen in love in your life.”

“Mhm,” Hanguang-Jun said, and the tension fell off his face as quickly as it had appeared. Sizhui helped him clear away the last of the plates before hesitating.

“Thank you,” he said at last, not sure exactly what he meant but knowing it needed to be said, and left the Jingshi.

• Do not smile foolishly

Ever since his father’s unexpected confession four years ago, Sizhui has been watching the way Hanguang-Jun interacts with men closely. He searches for any sign that Hanguang-Jun had known love and desire in his life. But he never seems to have eyes for anyone they meet. He asked Zewu-Jun about it when he was sixteen, but the conversation had given him more questions than answers.

“Zewu-Jun,” he said, because he had never managed to call his sect leader “uncle”. “Do you think father will ever take a cultivation partner?”

He had stopped calling Hanguang-Jun father years ago but it still slipped out from time to time when he was with his family. Zewu-Jun didn’t comment on it, just looked at him thoughtfully.

“He has told you, then,” Zewu-Jun said. They were in Zewu-Jun’s study so that Sizhui could officially give his report as head disciple, but more often than not, their meetings were filled with quiet conversation and tea.

Sizhui inclined his head.

“He told me that he loved my father,” he said. Zewu-Jun’s eyes crinkled.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Lan Sizhui… have you any memories of your father?”

Sizhui looked at his tea.

“No,” he said quietly. “I am afraid to ask.”

Zewu-Jun nodded thoughtfully.

“Forgive me for saying so, but I didn’t like your father,” he said slowly. “He was a… great man. But he was careless with many things, including Wangji’s heart. But that didn’t stop Wangji from giving it to him anyway, and when your father died, he took all of Wangji’s love with him. I doubt he will ever find another.”

“I see,” Sizhui said. He badly wanted to press for information on his father but knew in his heart that Zewu-Jun would never give it to me. “And if he did? What would the elders say?”

At this, Zewu-Jun laughed in equal parts surprise and, Sizhui noticed, bitterness.

“The elders have had ten long years to resign themselves to the workings of Wangji’s heart,” he said. He shook his head lightly. “Forgive me, A-Yuan, but I can’t say anymore. Wangji… will tell you himself one day, I am sure.”

But Hanguang-Jun never mentioned it again. The only indication Sizhui had that his confession those years ago hadn’t been a dream was the way that Hanguang-Jun’s eyes would develop a quiet sadness. He would drift far away on those days, not responding to Sizhui’s gentle attempts to engage him in conversation. His grief grew most potent on the day of the Lantern Festival every year. He would lock himself in the Jingshi all day and all night and emerge the next morning with deep circles under his red-rimmed eyes.

And then a man comes to the Cloud Recesses. He’s strange himself but Hanguang-Jun’s reaction to him is far stranger. Rather than disciplining the man for his shamelessness on the journey back, there’s something bright in his eyes. No one else notices, of course, but Sizhui can’t look away. There’s a bright joy in his father, but more than anything, there’s a peace that has settled over him. Sizhui had never even noticed it missing.

Senior Mo is a peculiar choice as the new object of his father’s affections, but he trusts his father more than anything, so he resolves to be extra kind to Senior Mo. When Hanguang-Jun announces that Senior Mo will stay with him in the Jingshi, that sacred place that only he and Zewu-Jun are permitted to visit, he soothes the agitation of the other disciples even as questions burn in his own mind.

“Senior Mo,” he said as politely as he can when the others are distracted by their bickering. “Please be gentle with Hanguang-Jun.”

Senior Mo only blinks at him. The earlier teasing and bravado is gone. Instead, he seems uncharacteristically nervous.

“I promise,” he said. “Hanguang-Jun… is truly a very good man. He always has been.”

Satisfied, Sizhui let the matter drop. He is happy, of course, that his father has found someone he could grow to love, but can’t help but feel a twist of pain for the father he can’t remember. He’s always had the impression that his father from so long ago didn’t return Hanguang-Jun’s feelings for him, so surely this development can only be good, but for Hanguang-Jun to move on from the feelings that have both tormented and kept him alive for the last years… well, he doesn’t quite know what to feel about it.

Learning that Senior Mo is actually the Yiling Patriarch complicates that but also helps Sizhui understand why Hanguang-Jun was so drawn to the man. Even in his second life, he is magnetic, attracting people to them and charming them thoroughly.

Was my father like that? Sizhui asks himself, wishing he had the courage to speak the question aloud. But how could he remind Hanguang-Jun of a long-lost love when he is just discovering a new one?

But the questions persist in his mind.

Did my father laugh like that? Like he was made of joy, even in a broken world? Did he ruffle my hair the way Senior Wei does? Father, do you see the remnants of your lost love in Senior Wei?

Then he purchases a grass butterfly, and slowly, the pieces fall into place. He feels silly at first for not putting it together earlier. But then that silliness is replaced by an overwhelming, desperate joy. His father, the man that Hanguang-Jun had grieved for so many years, has returned to him at last and finally given him his heart. The two men that raised him, his fathers, have found their way back to each other and their family is whole.

With an uncontrollable smile splitting his face, he takes off after the two retreating figures.

• Do not drink alcohol

When questioned later, Wei Wuxian will swear that he only wanted a small, private ceremony when he married the love of his life. Something where he and Hanguang-Jun could celebrate their love with the people they hold dear.

Sizhui knows this to be a complete lie because he was there for the wedding planning. After Lan Qiren gave his (grudging) blessing for the ceremony to take place, Wei Wuxian had enthusiastically thrown himself into planning the event, like he had years of devotion to make up for.

Zewu-Jun was right, Sizhui realized. The elders have resigned themselves to the great love between Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun. Although they are visibly not pleased by the development, they make no effort to impede it in any way. Jingyi loudly speculates that it’s because Zewu-Jun has threatened them with a demotion if they speak out against his brother’s happiness. Sizhui thinks privately that while Zewu-Jun would have taken that step, there had been no need to. Their sect was built on great love stories. How could they deny another one?

So the plans for the event proceeded quickly. It started as a modest affair, with a traditional ceremony and a reception for members of the Lan sect and any prominent Sect leaders that wish to attend. But once word spread about a cutsleeve wedding, blessed by a prominent cultivation sect no less, interest grew and Sizhui soon found himself abandoning his duties as head disciple to help Wei Wuxian address an ever-growing stack of invitations.

“How many of these people are coming for the novelty?” he asked one day in the Jingshi. “I doubt many have ever even conceptualized a cutsleeve wedding before.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head back and laughed freely at this, waggling his bamboo pen at Sizhui.

“Ah, who cares!” he said happily. “Only you, Jin Ling, Zewu-Jun, and old man Lan will be at the ceremony itself. That’s what matters. I’m happy to show off my love for Lan Zhan to the whole world after.”

There’s a name conspicuously absent from that list that Sizhui doesn’t point out. He just returns to his work quietly. Next time he glances up, Wei Wuxian is looking at the guest list with an unreadable expression.

“Father?” he asked gently. Wei Wuxian looks up, startled, with a gentle smile spreading across his face when he registers what Sizhui called him. Sizhui has been calling him father for months now and his reaction of quiet wonder never changes. “Is something wrong with the guest list?”

The smile drops off of Wei Wuxian’s face and he shakes his head, looking away.

“No, no. I mean, I barely know one-tenth of the people on it,” he said. “It’s just… well, this wedding will be even bigger than my shijie’s. And she won’t be there.”

“Shijie?” Sizhui asked before he remembered the precious little Jin Ling had told him about his mother. “Oh. You mean Jiang Yanli.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t respond, a faraway look in his eye.

“I think she knew. About me, that is. Even before I realized I was part-cutsleeve, that I would spend the rest of my life loving Lan Zhan, I think she suspected. I think… she would have been happy for me. I just wish she could see it.”

“Maybe she won’t be there,” Sizhui said at last. “But Father, her son will. The son that you have saved countless times over, who has grown to love you as his mother once did. Didn’t you say they have the same eyes?”

“They do,” Wei Wuxian said with a sad smile. “So in a way, she will see the wedding. I’m glad.”

Sizhui had no more words to say so he didn’t speak, just left his ink block behind and wrapped his arms around his father the way he did when he was young. 

“Oh, A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian said. “My son. How proud I am of the man you’ve become. I wish… I wish your family could have known that that scrappy toddler playing around in the mud would one day become a great cultivator, a sect heir. And more than anything, a kind young man raised in love, not war.”

They don’t get any more work done that day. Wei Wuxian rarely talks about their time together on the Burial Mounds, leaving Sizhui to seek stories from Wen Ning. But when he does, he can talk for hours, like he’s been storing it up inside himself for years. Hanguang-Jun finds in the evening sharing stories over a pot of tea.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says enthusiastically. “Come, sit with us. I’m just telling Sizhui about that time a mosquito bit my face and Wen Qing threatened to let it scar to teach me a lesson about vanity…”

And Hanguang-Jun sits with his fiancé and their son, and sends a silent prayer of thanks into the universe.

The wedding goes down in history.

It’s unprecedented, of course. It’s the first official cutsleeve wedding to occur in the cultivation world.

(The Lan sect will receive a sudden influx of applications from potential disciples the next year who stare at the married couple in wonder and envy, but they don’t know that yet.)

But it’s also one of the greatest (and only) parties to ever occur in Gusu.

The ceremony itself goes perfectly. Wei Wuxian had resigned himself to an incomplete ceremony, but the night before the event a visiting Jiang Cheng announces to Zewu-Jun that he will, in fact, be attending the ceremony in his capacity as sect leader. When Zewu-Jun asks Wei Wuxian for permission, he cries so hard that he can’t get an answer out and Lan Zhan whisks him away to the Jingshi.

As dawn breaks, they send word that Jiang Cheng is welcome to attend the ceremony. Sizhui sees Jin Ling smile into his sleeve.

No one mentions that Zewu-Jun will be the only other sect leader in attendance. Sizhui expected Jin Ling to assume leadership of the Jin sect after Jin Guangyao’s betrayal, but Jin Ling confides ruefully that Jiang Cheng flatly forbade him from taking the helm until he was of majority. 

“You’ll have plenty of time later to be sect leader,” Jiang Cheng said. “Don’t give up your childhood.”

And so the Jin sect was temporarily run by a council of the most senior disciples, leaving Jin Ling free to accompany his friends on night hunts.

But now this means Jiang Cheng’s excuse falls flat, and for the first time, Sizhui can imagine a future for the brothers.

The actual ceremony began as dusk settled. Sizhui had never been to a wedding before, but he knew that this ceremony lacked some of the pomp expected. There was no procession, no sedan, no dowry, no wedding games. When he’d asked why, Wei Wuxian had just smiled bitterly.

“There’s no one left to make it fun,” he had said, and they’d left the matter at that.

So everyone met at a small temple at the edge of Cloud Recesses, Zewu-Jun and Grandmaster Lan accompanying Hanguang-Jun and Jin Ling accompanying Wei Wuxian. Sizhui hadn’t known who he should walk with and had decided to wait at the temple by himself so he could see both his fathers at the same time.

But he wasn’t alone like he thought he’d be. Sect Leader Jiang stood properly with his hands behind his back, looking at the ancestral plaques that had been displayed. They bowed to each other and stood in a stiff silence

“It’s not right,” Jiang Cheng said at last. “Wei Wuxian should be bowing to Father too but old man Lan wouldn’t budge on the issue. Said they’d already bucked tradition enough.”

Wei Wuxian’s plaques simply said Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren.

“Father talks about the former Sect Leader Jiang with great love and affection,” Sizhui said hesitantly. “I’m sure… he will think of him as he makes his bow.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t seem to register his words and just gave him a funny look.

“Father?”

Sizhui’s face burned and he bowed again.

“Ah, forgive me for the strangeness of my address, but you see, Hanguang-Jun raised me…” he trailed off when he noticed a strange tension in Sect Leader Jiang’s face.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you?” he said without preamble. “That kid that attached himself to my leg all those years ago. Wow, you’ve grown up.”

Sizhui opened his mouth to respond, pre-spun lies on the tip of his tongue,  but Sect Leader Jiang just snorted.

“For what it’s worth, kid, I’m glad you survived,” he said gruffly. “Nice to know he didn’t throw his family away for nothing.”

Sizhui stood there, tongue-tied. Did he refute what Sect Leader Jiang seemed to know, or did he take pride in his family?

The problem was solved for him when the doors to the temples opened and Hanguang-Jun entered with Zewu-Jun and Grandmaster Lan following close behind. When Hanguang-Jun saw his son, a small smile crossed his face.

Hanguang-Jun was dressed in elegant red robes that trailed on the ground after him. The splash of color was surprising but not unflattering, emphasizing his classic beauty. Even Sect Leader Jiang made a small noise next to him.

Hanguang-Jun nodded and stood before the plaques, waiting for his soon-to-be husband to arrive.

Wei Wuxian was a characteristic five minutes late, walking behind a red-faced and ruffled Jin Ling. Sizhui wasn’t surprised. Wei Wuxian teased when he was nervous.

Then Hanguang-Jun turned to see the man he was marrying and his eyes went wide.

“Wei Ying,” he said reverently.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, and smiled softly but with more happiness than Sizhui had ever seen on him. “Shall we?”

“Mhm,” Hanguang-Jun said. And they proceeded with the ceremony.

Once bows had been made and tea had been poured, Sizhui felt his eyes brimming up with tears. It was such a quiet, simple declaration of love, but he was sure everyone in the room could feel the depth of it. When it was over, his fathers turned to each other and smiled at each other foolishly. Jin Ling looked shocked to see the expression on Hanguang-Jun’s face but kept silent, looking near tears himself.

Sizhui thought of the young, friendless young man in yellow robes from all those months ago who would curse cutsleeves and felt a rush of affection for Jin Ling.

“Well,” Grandmaster Lan said at last. “It is done. Wangji, won’t you escort your husband to the banquet?”

“Mhm,” Hanguang-Jun said. “My husband.”

“Your husband,” Wei Wuxian agreed, and leaned over and kissed him gently. Grandmaster Lan made a noise like a dying animal and walked out of the temple quickly, Zewu-Jun following with an amused smile on his face.

“Let’s go, Jin Ling,” Sect Leader Jiang said at last, taking Jin Ling by the arm. He hesitated then looked back at the married couple. “There… is always a place for you at Lotus Pier. Both of you.”

Wei Wuxian smiled blindingly and blinked tears out of his eyes.

“Thank you, Jiang Cheng.”

Sect Leader Jiang didn’t respond, just left the room with Jin Ling in tow, and Sizhui was left alone with his fathers.

“I’ll meet you at the banquet…” he started, but Wei Wuxian interrupted.

“Come here, A-Yuan,” he said quietly, and Sizhui didn’t hesitate, just threw himself into his fathers’ shared embrace.

“I’m so happy,” he said at last. “That you have found your happiness. That you have returned to each other after all this time.”

“Mhm,” Hanguang-Jun said. “All of us, together. As a family.”

They stayed there for a long moment before Sizhui remembered what was happening outside of these walls and stood up, dusting off his robes.

“Won’t you come celebrate with us?” he said.

“Soon,” Hanguang-Jun promised. “Just… we will stay here for a moment longer.”

Sizhui opened his mouth to ask why but then noticed the look on Wei Wuxian’s face and quickly thought better of it, leaving the temple hurriedly and bumping into Jin Ling.

“They’re still in there?” he asked, handing Sizhui a small bowl of liquor. “Ugh. I don’t want to know what they’re doing.”

Sizhui hummed in agreement and looked closely at the bowl.

“How did you get alcohol in Cloud Recesses?” he asked clearly. Jin Ling grinned.

“Come and see,” he said, and pulled Sizhui into the center of Cloud Recesses.

It was the largest gathering Sizhui had ever seen. Cloud Recesses itself was almost unrecognizable. People from all different sects and clans walked around in a swirling color of robes, talking boisterously and shooting curious glances at the temple. Sizhui saw Jingyi shouting excitedly with a cultivator from a minor sect, looking more at home than he ever had at Cloud Recesses, and smothered a laugh. A small group of junior Yunmeng disciples were setting off firecrackers and screaming when they exploded.

“Oh,” someone breathed next to him. Sizhui turned around to see a slightly rumpled Wei Wuxian next to him with his hand in a pristine Hanguang-Jun’s. “All for us?”

“Wei Ying deserves the world,” Hanguang-Jun said quietly.

Wei Wuxian smiled and tightened his grip on Hanguang-Jun’s hand.

“Right now, Wei Ying deserves a drink,” Wei Wuxian said, and tried to swipe the bowl in Sizhui’s hand with his free hand. Sizhui dodged, stepping behind Jin Ling.

“It’s mine,” he said indignantly. “Just… this once?”

Wei Wuxian laughed uproariously and nudged Hanguang-Jun.

“Oh, Hanguang-Jun, our son is all grown up and sneaking alcohol! Now doesn’t that sound familiar?” he said teasingly. Hanguang-Jun looked at him with soft affection in his gaze.

“Just this once,” he said to Sizhui. Sizhui beamed and before he could talk himself out of it, swallowed the bowl in a single movement. It burned his throat unpleasantly and he found himself coughing, almost dropping the bowl.

Jin Ling cackled at him and patted him on the back indulgently.

“You Lans are something else,” he said. “Now come on, let’s go find Zizhen!”

Sizhui turned to his fathers and found them watching him with identical small smiles on their faces.

“We’ll still be here in the morning,” Wei Wuxian promised. “Now, go have fun with your friends and leave your parents alone.”

Sizhui gave them one last smile, and then turned to chase after Jin Ling.

They’d be there the next morning, and many mornings after that. Even when their lives took them in different directions, they would always find their way back to Gusu in the end. They would always find their way back home to each other.