Everything is a bit messy after the reunion. They’re all emotionally drained but time doesn’t stand still for their small group, no matter how much Xiurong would want it to. She bids goodbye to a wan-looking A-Huan who clearly is reluctant to leave, almost like he thinks she’s a mirage that will vanish as soon as he turns his back.
”We will meet again, A-Huan,” she says, cupping his cheek with a small smile.
His eyes are wide, searching. ”Do you promise?” he asks like a little boy.
”Yes.”
He closes his eyes for a short moment and takes a breath, and when he looks at her again, the sect leader’s mantle slips on almost seamlessly. He gives her the most beautiful, most respectful bow she’s seen in years, and says, ”Travel safe.”
She smiles. ”Always. And you, too.”
And with that, he walks out the door, leaving behind an ache Xiurong thought she’d grown to tolerate ages ago. She smooths out her robes, wipes an errant tear from her cheek, and turns to prepare tea.
They will meet again—and she has a feeling she knows what that meeting is going to address. She doesn’t look forward to it but cleaning out the darkness from their past is the only way forward.
How easy would it be to just meditate it away, hm? Sadly, that isn’t how life really works.
Wei Ying is a lively, bright young man with a sharp mind and hidden, terrible hurts that still ooze blood and viscera. He tries to hide them all with smiles and laughter but Xiurong can sense the thorns and sees how he flinches every now and then at a sudden move or a certain combination of words. She catches A-Yuan’s eye at some point and, from the look on his face, realizes that he, too, can see the bleeding footprints Wei Ying leaves behind.
A-Zhan doesn’t see. Or perhaps he does—perhaps this is how Wei Ying was before, and he’s used to it. Perhaps, to him, Wei Ying is Wei Ying, thorns and pains and burdens alike.
”Ah, are you sure—I don’t want to intrude—” Wei Ying tries to protest when they’re getting ready to head home.
”Wei Ying. Please,” A-Zhan says quietly.
Wei Ying looks at him for a moment, then swallows and nods. ”Yeah. Okay. I’ll come back with you.” He clears his throat and adds, ”So you got me to come back with you after all. Not to Gusu but…”
”Mn,” A-Zhan says.
Xiurong narrows her eyes. There’s something…Hm.
His time under that Yu woman probably did him no favors, she thinks. She was always a cruel, jealous woman who neither asked nor needed a reason to lash out. And from what I’ve heard, her son is no better.
They travel by sword, A-Zhan holding Wei Ying carefully in the circle of his arms. Wei Ying is shivering but Xiurong is almost sure it isn’t because he’s cold, but because they’re up in the air. She’s glad they don’t have long to fly—getting them all home and inside her wards will settle her nerves, and a hot bath and a proper meal will hopefully settle Wei Ying.
”Do you think Cat will like him?” A-Yuan asks.
She glances at him. ”Cat likes everyone, so, yes,” she says and waits.
After a moment of silence, A-Yuan asks, so quietly she can barely hear him over the wind, ”We’ll keep him safe, right? We won’t let anyone hurt him.”
”Mn,” Xiurong says, as if she’d ever let anything happen to Cangse Sanren’s son now that she has found him.
It’s an adjustment for sure. Xiurong’s home was never meant for a family, let alone four grown-ups, of which two are in a romantic relationship. It helps that Wei Ying is still reeling from his resurrection, which in turn makes A-Zhan more concerned and A-Yuan even more attentive than he usually is. That results in a rotation of gentle fussing that clearly baffles Wei Ying. He tries to cover his bewilderment with jokes and laughter, and deflects questions with wittiness.
But Xiurong is watching and she isn’t pleased with what she sees.
For some reason, Wei Ying is convinced he doesn’t deserve to be here.
For some reason, Wei Ying believes he has to perform to be accepted.
For some reason, Xiurong is thinking about purple lightnings.
And after a couple of weeks, Xiurong has had enough.
”A-Ying, come with me, please,” she says. Apparently something in her voice alerts A-Zhan as his head snaps up, and she smiles. ”There are some things that need to be said,” she says, and when Wei Ying looks apprehensive, she adds, ”I’m not going to scold you, silly boy. Come on.”
She heads to the garden, expecting him to follow. Which he does, a moment later, accompanied by A-Zhan’s soft, ”I’ll wait here.” There’s a nice patch of grass in the back corner where the sun shines just so, and she spreads a small blanket on the ground, sits down, and takes two jars of wine from her qiankun bag.
”Um,” Wei Ying says, hovering awkwardly next to her.
”Sit,” Xiurong says, patting at the blanket and handing him a jar. ”This is for you.”
She says nothing as she waits for him to sit and then take a tentative sip of wine before she starts.
”Wei Ying, I would like to talk about something I think is important. If possible, I’d like you to try to listen without interrupting. It’s nothing bad, I’m not disappointed in you, and you have done nothing wrong. I promise.”
”Um. Alright,” Wei Ying says hesitantly. He looks confused and scared.
She nods and takes a sip from her own jar. The wine is strong, good and pricey vintage, perfect for this occasion. ”I’m going to assume that A-Zhan has told you what happened to me but in short, I was imprisoned in the Cloud Recesses and would’ve died there if I hadn’t escaped. I couldn’t have done it alone.” She looks at him. ”I was lucky not to be alone. I have no idea how your mother managed to smuggle her letter through the wards but she did, and her talismans helped me to get away. For that, I owe her a life debt.”
”Oh,” Wei Ying breathes, then seems to realize he wasn’t supposed to say anything, and slaps a hand over his mouth.
Xiurong lets out a small chuckle. ”I’ll tell you about her and our adventures sometime, if you’d like.”
Wei Ying keeps his hand in place as he nods enthusiastically.
”I would like to say that had I happened upon you then, I would’ve picked you from the streets and taken you with me, but I cannot claim that. Back then, I was weak, scared, and running for my life, and your parents—and especially your mother—were quite famous in the rogue cultivator circles. I had to concentrate on keeping myself safe first.
”I never thought to meet my sons again. I certainly never thought to have a second chance with either of them, let alone have a grandson to raise. But I had, and for that, I will be eternally grateful to the Fates.”
She pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts.
”I would like to apologize for my behavior from when we met,” she says slowly, ignoring the alarmed look on Wei Ying’s face. ”What I said to you back then was cruel and accusatory and unfair.”
Clearly, this is too much for Wei Ying. ”No—!”
”Hush now,” Xiurong says, tapping him on the nose. ”Just listen.”
For a moment, she’s sure that he won’t; that her words have already been too much for him. He clenches his jaw and looks at her for a long time with a pinched look before finally nodding slowly.
”Thank you,” she says. ”Back in the Mo manor and later in that inn…what I said was out of fear. I was afraid that you would run and leave me to pick up the broken pieces of my son again. I was afraid that I would lose my son, either to grief or to the four winds as he chased after you.
”My son loves you and, like all Lan, he only loves once. His devotion is deep, unyielding, and unflinching, and it could very easily turn dark and possessive. He’s told me that back when he begged you to come back to Gusu with him, he wanted to hide you away from the world, to keep you safe and sheltered. He no longer wants that, mostly because that would mean he would follow in his father’s footsteps. And he’ll do anything to not turn into his father.”
Wei Ying’s eyes are huge in his thin face and he’s clutching the wine jar against his chest.
Xiurong takes a breath and forces herself to continue. ”When I told you he’s loved you more than half of his life, it was to explain his behavior, not to excuse it. When I told you not to leave him without talking to him first, I wasn’t trying to force you to stay. You don’t owe him your affection to be allowed to stay.
”It would mean the world to me if I had the chance to shelter and take care of my sworn sister’s son. I would be delighted if you were my son-in-law, but I would be just as delighted and honored to have you as a cherished guest. ”
She isn’t sure when she started to cry but she realizes her cheeks are wet and her eyes blurry, and it’s clearly making Wei Ying distraught.
”Oh, no,” he whispers. ”No no no, don’t cry, Lan Zhan will kill me if he finds out I made his mother cry, shit, I’m sorry—”
”What are you saying sorry for?” Xiurong huffs wetly.
”I don’t know!” he yelps, reaching for her and then stopping himself.
Xiurong will have none of it. She grabs his hands in hers and draws him closer. ”Take care of the mystery of the demonic arm, travel at will, invent talismans, whatever! Just remember that you have a home with us, Wei Ying, just as you are.”
”But—”
”No. No buts,” she says sternly. ”Your welcome in our home and in our hearts is unconditional.”
He swallows, opens his mouth, tries to huff a laugh, and fails spectacularly when the sound comes out as a sob. Xiurong cups his cheeks and gently wipes his tears away with her thumbs, tutting softly. ”If anything, A-Zhan will be cross with me for making you cry.”
”Why?”
”Because he cares about you,” she simply says. ”And he doesn’t want you to hurt.”
”Life hurts,” Wei Ying says.
”Mn. That it does,” she agrees. ”But perhaps friends and family and loved ones can make the hurt more bearable.” She cocks her head and raises a brow at him, smiling a little. ”Oh, come here,” she huffs and draws him into a tight hug.
”Are you sure I won’t bring you any trouble?” he asks after a moment, his voice small against her neck.
”You sweet, silly boy,” Xiurong says, pinching his side. ”I’m a wanted murderer, my son was deemed a traitor to his sect, and my grandson is the last living Wen. One small Yiling Patriarch fits right in!”
The snort he lets out is part scandalized, part delighted. ”I’m not small!” he argues, but now there’s laughter in his voice and she’s so very, very glad for it.
”You are. You are small and skinny and starved, and we need to fatten you up! What kind of an aunt would I be if I didn’t feed you properly?”
”Aunt?” he asks.
Xiurong draws back a bit to look him in the eyes. ”You can call me aunt or Xiurong or Mother or whatever you feel most comfortable with, as long as you know that I love you.”
One morning later that week, when Wei Ying is still asleep, A-Zhan sets his teacup on the table and frowns.
”Wei Ying…” he starts. ”He seems different. After your talk.”
Xiurong tilts her head. ”Different how?”
”He’s more quiet. Reserved.” He looks up, suddenly terrified. ”Mother, is he unhappy here?”
Xiurong takes a measured breath. ”I don’t think he’s unhappy. I think he’s unsure.” She reaches across the table and gently grips A-Zhan’s hand. ”Have you told him explicitly that you want him to be here?”
A-Zhan shakes his head. ”I don’t— he stays if he wants but he’s free to go—” he falls silent as his voice catches. She’s sure he isn’t going to continue, so she startles slightly as he says, tonelessly, ”I learned—as a child—that I’m not to want things.”
”What?” Xiurong says, dreading the answer.
”The Elders. They told me that I wouldn’t be allowed to see you if I was…uppity.”
The rage that burns through her is so strong that for a moment, she forgets how to breathe. She fights against her gut reaction and forces herself to stay seated, to stay (outwardly) calm, to stay there.
”The Elders have no power over you anymore, A-Zhan,” she finally says, and A-Zhan’s slight flinch tells her that some of her fury still bleeds through her tone. ”It’s human to want things. It’s normal. And,” she pauses and waits for him to meet her eyes. ”I think that you need to say aloud what you want. And, more importantly, I think Wei Ying needs to hear you say it.”
”Why?” A-Zhan asks, genuinely confused.
She lets out a breath and leans in to tuck a strand of hair behind A-Zhan’s ear. ”Because I believe Wei Ying has never had a place where he’s welcome.”
A-Zhan looks bewildered. ”He is welcome!”
Xiurong shakes her head. ”Just like you learned not to want things, Wei Ying learned not to belong,” she says gently.
A-Zhan drops his gaze to his teacup. ”Mn,” he says after a pause. ”Thank you, Mother.”
”There’s no need to thank me,” she says, squeezing his hands one more time. ”Now. I think I’m going to collect my grandson and go out hunting eggs. The chickens never manage to hide from him.”
She doesn’t know how the conversation between A-Zhan and Wei Ying went, but some days later, when she goes to check the new saplings, the boys are in the shade of the plum tree. A-Zhan seems to be meditating while Wei Ying is resting, head on A-Zhan’s lap. They look lovely together; peaceful and at ease.
She decides that the saplings can wait another day.