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From the moment A-Yuan came into his life, Wei Wuxian knew he was special. Every parent thinks that, of course, but he knew. The car trip home from the court house, adoption papers in hand, was the most nerve wracking drive of Wei Ying’s life!
Wei Wuxian knocked on the door of the apartment next door. An older woman answers the door, knuckles knobbly with age, and a kind smile on her face. She knew why he was there, and she was so happy to see him. Granny led him to the kitchen table which had some expertly made treats, fresh from the kitchen, and a warm pot of green tea set out.
She had been A-Yuan’s caretaker for several months after his parents passed away in a horrible accident at the factory where they worked. Granny took in A-Yuan without a second thought, but every day it was made more and more clear to her that she was unable to care for the boy. She couldn’t play with him or carry him far, and did not know of any schools, or really have the finances to take care of the boy. She loved him so much that when A-Yuan fell in love with the kind man next door and started calling him baba, she knew.
She knew it would be time to let him go.
Wei Wuxian politely drank her tea and ate a few mooncakes (but only the ones with lotus seed and egg yolk, those were his favorite). A-Yuan came dashing down the hall, paper drawing in hand before slapping it down in front of Wei Ying crying, “Baba, Baba!”
Wei Ying made all the amazed and appropriate noises at the drawing. It was of him and A-Yuan playing in the garden with a large fat rabbit who was eating a radish. “Oh my A-Yuan what a clever little drawing!” Wei Wuxian said, patting the boy’s head.
Wei Wuxian smiled and patted his lap. The boy instantly climbed into his lap and sat there holding him. “I have something to ask you, do you think you’re a big enough boy to give me a serious answer?”
A-Yuan gasped and nodded seriously, “Yes, Baba Wei.”
Wei Wuxian smiled and asked gently, “I want to be your real baba. I want to adopt you from Granny. Would you want to be my little radish for real? And live with me? We can visit Granny any time we want, and she’ll still babysit while I’m at work so you’ll see her almost every day. I love you Little Radish. I want to tuck you in and tell your stories good night every night. Do you want that too?”
A-Yuan started crying loudly and hugging his neck, nodding frantically. Wei Ying swung him all around, nearly knocking over some decorations in Granny’s house, laughing all the while. His heart was so full of joy and he couldn’t wait to share it with his precious little boy.
Granny smiled and signed the adoption papers and that was that.
When Lan Zhan started dating Wei Ying for real, years in the making, he was almost surprised to see A-Yuan latch on to him immediately. It started with “Rich gege” but transformed into “Die” very shortly after. Lan Zhan loved Wei Ying with a supernova intensity, and found himself absolutely adoring A-Yuan too. He had never really given a thought to children, but he found himself deeply attached to A-Yuan and before long Wei Ying asked for Lan Zhan to decide his courtesy name. Lan Zhan was stunned but soon gave a tiny but blinding smile at the joy he felt in his heart. At ten years old Lan Sizhui celebrated his naming with his parents and welcomed his Die into his life too.
Lan Wangji loved music. Loved it with every fiber of his being. He played nearly every string instrument and could work his way around a handful of others, but his greatest love was his guqin Wangji and composing soft instrumental pieces with it.
Wei Wuxian also adored music but preferred his dizi and little else. They often spent quiet nights playing music together at random, playing off each other’s melodies.
Lan Sizhui watched in awe as frequently his parents would confess their love again and again and again through their music. Sizhui was ten and desperately wished that he too could join them. He wished he could take part and ‘speak’ their language of love.
After so long watching Sizhui finally asked his Die to show him how to play music.
They tried everything.
The guqin, which Sizhui nearly broke.
The harp, which lost a few strings.
The guitar, which Sizhui complained of an aching hand after a few days and never picked up again.
They tried the piano, but after every instrument, Sizhui just got more and more dejected.
Eventually he would just sigh and return to his room. After a while his parents would come in to console him, and watch him whip something under a book and out of sight.
They figured it was a diary and let it be, instead choosing to focus on their son. They gave cuddles and kisses and watched a movie until Sizhui felt a little lighter.
When Sizhui neared middle school, he had tried nearly every instrument known to man and still sucked at most of them. He eventually stuck with the violin and frequently practiced so he could one day play with his family. He had long given up on ever being as good as they were.
But Sizhui had a secret love. It felt shameful to hide such a secret from his family and to reveal it would be just so embarrassing.
For as long as Sizhui could remember, he loved to draw. He would draw in crayon to be put on the fridge, and listen to his Baba’s amazed gasps at the drawings each time. As he grew older, he grew more and more embarrassed about his artwork and showed it off less and less until he kept it to himself entirely.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think his dads would be loving and wonderful and supportive, but…
His friends sometimes teased him for his hasty scribbles and a mean classmate or two poked fun once at a drawing when it wasn’t even done yet.
He knew his parents played music. That’s what his family did.
Not art. Not this.
Sizhui sighed and hid the notebook under his pillow while he slept. Maybe one day he would tell them.
Turns out that that maybe came a lot sooner than he would have liked, but in the end it wasn’t he who told them at all.
Sizhui’s very sweet and well meaning teacher Mrs. Baoshan called one afternoon after class. She called a parent-teacher conference and advised that Sizhui should come and, no, he wasn’t in any trouble.
The day of the meeting, Sizhui isn’t quite sure what to expect, but while his Baba and Die sat in uncomfortable plastic bucket chairs, Mrs. Baoshan smiles and pulls forth a folder from her desk and hands it to Shizui.
Sizhui looks blankly at the folder and back to his teacher and her kind smile. Mrs. Baoshen looked back to his parents and spoke clearly like she always did, “Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji. It’s been a while since you were in my class, but it’s been a pleasure knowing your son too. I’m very sad to see Sizhui leave me so soon, but all kids must pass fifth grade to get to sixth. It’s been such a joy and privilege to have Sizhui not only be a Classroom leader, but such a dedicated student. He’s been working on something all year and I’ve been keeping it for just this occasion. Sizhui, would you like to show it off for your dads?”
Sizhui felt a rock lodge in his stomach. Oh. It was that.
Sizhui didn’t mean to start it on purpose, but when he was tired or upset and didn’t want to socialize, he would get his pencils, paper from his desk, and sit and draw something around him until he felt better. It could be anything from a tree, to a classmate, a desk, a poster.
After time he grew a sizable collection. He thought Mrs. Baoshen was going to continue to keep it secret.
Apparently not.
Baba and Die were looking at him with patient smiles, but Baba’s eyes kept drifting down to the folder curiously.
Sizhui turned away and held out the folder to his baba. He was so embarrassed. He didn’t want to show them his drawings. It felt too… personal.
Slowly his dads opened the folder and looked inside. Wei Wuxian gasped softly as they looked through each drawing slowly, turning page by page.
Before long, Lan Wangji put an arm over his husband’s shoulders and placed a soft kiss to his temple, “He draws just like you do.”
Wei Wuxian quickly went from awed to tears soon after and buried his face in his husband’s neck, weeping softly. Sizhui took back his art while his dads hugged and held it to his chest. If seeing his art made his baba cry like this then he would burn it and no one would ever have to see it again! He’ll-
Then his baba started laughing. He moved out of his husband’s arms and turned to Sizhui, “I’m sorry Baobei, that was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I’m so happy. They’re happy tears I promise.” He wiped at his face before his teacher provided tissues.
Mrs Baoshen smiled gently and reached in a drawer of her desk where another stack of drawings were. This time she handed them to Wei Wuxian with a glint in her eyes, “Do you remember these?”
Wei Wuxian laughed and looked at her strangely, “You kept these?”
She didn’t answer but gestured for him to continue and show Sizhui.
Sizhui was handed the folder and he gently opened inside to find sketches, just like his. But instead of plain paper, they were done on homework, tests, notes from class, handouts etc. They were of people Sizhui had never met, but one or two looked just like a smaller version of his Die!
He looked up at his Die to confirm and Lan Zhan nodded with pink ears.
When they went home that day Sizhui found out several things, but the biggest surprise was finding out that his dads were both secretly famous! Die was a famous music composer, Hanguang-Jun, who wrote beautiful songs for background music (even for Sizhui’s favorite TV show!). Baba was the famous underground artist, Yiling Lazou, who’s original paintings sold for millions at private auctions due to their evocative imagery and lifelike detail.
Wei Wuxian took his son on a trip to his painting studio to let him take a look around. His dad was SO TALENT! Sizhui was amazed he didn’t even know!
There in the corner of his studio by a sad little desk with a laptop, lamp and phone lived, was a large painting of his Baba, Die and him from last year. Sizhui smiled and pointed to himself, “Look Die it’s me!”
His Die smiled and nodded, “Yes it is. Your baba painted that after your tenth birthday. That was the night of our wedding, don't you remember?”
Sizhui smiled and nodded. He was so happy that night. His Diedie agreed to stay forever and be his Die!
From that moment onward Wei Wuxian and Sizhui spent more and more time in the studio until it was time for Sizhui to get a studio for himself. He drew, he painted, he sculpted with clay and marble, Sizhui did it all and every second he made his dads so proud of him.
He graduated art school top in his class and moved in with his partner, and still made time to sit and paint with Wei Wuxian and play violin with his Die and baba. He was still terrible at music and couldn’t compose on the spot like they could but as he hung the family portrait his baba made on the wall of their dining room. He figured it didn’t matter if he could play music like they could. They still spoke the same language of love as he did, and for that he would be eternally grateful.