It’s very late when Sizhui lands in front of Koi Tower’s massive stairs, stumbling slightly after flying almost non-stop from Qishan. The startled guards look vaguely familiar, and Sizhui will probably remember their names when he’s not this exhausted.
”Young Master Lan!” the other exclaims, hurrying to him and supporting him from the elbow while the other guard lets out a sharp, rhytmic whistle, and a moment later, several Jin disciples rush out to help him. Sizhui will feel mortified about it later but now, he’s just grateful for a little help supporting his legs.
”Oh, A-Yuan,” Aunt Yanli chides, suddenly next to him. ”Did you fly the whole day? You know you didn’t have to!”
”I didn’t want to stop for the night,” he says, squinting against the sunset that makes the gilded roofs blaze. ”I know it was a mistake,” he adds ruefully.
Aunt Yanli clicks her tongue and gives him a look that promises gentle scolding later. But it’s okay—the important thing is that he’s here now.
Because Wen Qing is getting married, and Sizhui has a job to do.
The next morning, Aunt Yanli wakes him up with a tight hug and a whole tureen of soup just for him. She sits next to him with a fond look on her face and ladles more soup into his bowl until he laughs and tells her to stop or he’ll burst.
”You’re a growing young man,” Aunt Yanli says with a mischievous look on her face. ”Somehow I just know you’ll make room for the soup.”
”And how are my cousins? Still terrorizing Koi Tower?” Sizhui asks.
Aunt Yanli has four children, all boys, although A-Lei has imperiously informed his parents that when he grows up, he’s going to be a girl like Doctor Wen because she’s amazing and way more scary than any man ever. All of this makes Aunt Yanli somewhat of an expert on boys and how much food they can put away.
”A-Ling is actually in Gusu and will arrive with Jingyi later today. A-Fen, A-Lei, and A-Zhi are supposed to be on their lessons but are most likely running around and getting in everyone’s way,” Aunt Yanli sighs. ”I do adore my boys, but sometimes I wish they were slightly less energetic.”
”I wouldn’t know,” Sizhui says. ”I was told I was an exemplary child, always very demure and very mindful. Jingyi, on the other hand…”
Aunt Yanli covers her mouth but a small giggle escapes anyway. ”I can only imagine,” she says, eyes dancing with amusement. She ladles more soup into Sizhui’s bowl. ”How was Qishan?”
”Hot, dry, exhausting,” Sizhui says and resigns to eat a bit more. ”Uncle Ruohan is the same, although I feel like the general air of Nightless City has gotten better.”
No one has dared to say it aloud but the common agreement is that Wen Ruohan suffered some kind of qi incident, and only Wen Qing’s skills saved him from complete qi deviation and gruesome death. As a result, Wen Ruohan’s despotic megalomania has been curbed and he’s turned into something resembling a regular, if very powerful, cultivator. People try to feel completely normal about the whole thing (and about Wen Qing), with varying results.
Sizhui is very glad that when the worst went down, he’d already been placed as a ward in the Cloud Recesses (later officially adopted by Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji), as it had spared him from the reforms and restructuring of the Wen sect. He’s pretty sure he’s happier as Sect Heir Lan than as Sect Heir Wen.
”Is Wen Chao still causing problems?”
SIzhui shakes his head. ”Not really. He tried to bully Uncle Ning once and that ended up badly.”
”Ah,” Aunt Yanli says. ”I assume Wen Zhuliu is as protective about A-Ning as ever?”
”Mn.”
”Good,” Aunt Yanli says decisively. ”A-Ning deserves someone who looks after him.”
Sizhui finishes his bowl of soup and hopes Aunt Yanli won’t make him eat more, or he’ll truly burst.
Instead of feeding him, Aunt Yanli tilts her head. ”And what about you, A-Yuan? Do you have anyone special in your sights?”
He lets out a small groan. ”First, you feed me until I can’t think, and then you spring these questions on me! Have you been talking to baba lately?”
Aunt Yanli quirks a brow. ”Should I be talking to your baba?” she asks wryly.
”Always,” Sizhui says immediately. ”Baba loves talking with you.”
She lets out a small huff and taps him on the nose. ”And I love talking with him, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Sizhui shrugs, then ducks his head. ”To answer your question, Aunt Yanli: no. And I’m in no hurry to find anyone.”
”Would you like to find someone?” Aunt Yanli asks, genuinely curious.
He frowns, thoughtful. ”Honestly? I’m not sure. I don’t really feel the need to find a companion, but the thought doesn’t feel unpleasant, either.”
Aunt Yanli leans forward to cup his cheek. ”You are still young, A-Yuan. You have time to figure it out—either whether you want someone in your life or if you’d be just fine on your own.”
He leans into her hold and closes his eyes. ”I’ve missed you, Auntie,” he sighs. He doesn’t need to open his eyes—he can feel Aunt Yanli’s warm, loving regard on him, wrapping around him only a moment before her arms draw him into a hug.
”What on earth do you think you’re doing, A-Yuan?” Aunt Qing sighs when Sizhui plants himself in front of the door to her rooms.
”My job,” Sizhui says cheerfully. ”If Luo Qingyang wants to marry you, she’ll have to go through me.”
Aunt Qing closes her eyes and pinches at the bridge of her nose. ”You do realize that I could just use my needles on you and be done with it?” she asks.
Sizhui opens his eyes wide. ”And rob me of the chance to protect your honor?”
”You’ve been spending too much time with your baba,” Aunt Qing mutters.
”That would be both correct and expected, as he is my baba,” he points out.
”You’ve been the son of my cousin for longer than you’ve been Wei Wuxian’s son,” she says dryly, then shakes her head. ”This is ridiculous.”
Sizhui steps closer and takes her hands in his. They’re small but strong, calloused where her pestle has toughened the skin, and dotted with small, silvery pinpricks from when she was just learning to use her needles. It still feels strange how small she is as she’s always been a towering presence in his life—someone who protected him and who commanded respect with her piercing intelligence and sharp tongue. She’s a constant in his life, the closest thing he has for a mother and a sister, and he loves her fiercely.
Something about his thoughts must bleed through as her scowl softens. ”But many traditions are ridiculous. I know this is important to you so, fine. Protect my maidenly honor, Lan Sizhui.”
He gives her a formal bow. ”Thank you, Aunt Qing. I’ll make sure Luo Qingyang has to fight to prove herself.”
Her eyeroll is mostly amused and only slightly tinged with exasperation.
Later, Sizhui feels very proud of himself, sporting a black eye and nursing a limp as he walks. He purposefully doesn’t use spiritual power to heal himself as he wants everyone to see that Luo Qingyang didn’t hesitate to fight him honestly to claim her bride. (Sizhui broke her nose and fractured three ribs and was very apologetic but also proud of himself because Luo Qingyang is almost as good a fighter as baba.)
Aunt Qing is a vision in deep scarlet red robes, head held high and face bare without a veil. She might’ve allowed Sizhui his fun with traditional bridal games but she put her foot down on the veils, and, as absolutely no one is willing to contradict her, she gets what she wants. She’s married in brilliant, blazing red with an unobscured view of her fiancee’s face.
They both look lovely.
Next to Sizhui, baba sheds unabashedly happy tears and blows his nose with a sound that makes Aunt Qing glare daggers at him.
It’s a wonderful day indeed.