Chapter Text
Lan Qiren used to idolize his brother.
Used to.
He thinks of his brother now —now dead, after more than two decades of not seeing his face, now Lan Qiren never would again— as he looks at his nephew.
Lan Wangji is perfectly composed, sitting with his back straight on a nearby bench. A slight breeze rustles the ends of his hair and his ribbon but he doesn’t fuss, his eyes closed, most likely in mediation. He and his brother are a mix of their parents, while the color of their eyes and the curve of their jaws are features Lan Qiren has seen in the mirror, their eye shape and the slope of their brow are less familiar.
Lan Qiren’s relationship with that woman was a complicated one. Certainly, he thought her a murderer that had to be punished and resented her for being a criminal that escaped justice but, later, he struggled with the pity he felt.
“You’ve done such a good job raising the boys, Lan-laoshi” —she had always said ‘laoshi’ with a bit of bitterness, but now she sounds resigned and something that’s not exactly fond but an emotion that ran parallel to it… more than anything she sounds weak and tired— “I know… you do not care for me, but please… continue to raise them well. You may not believe me but… I love them. So much.”
“I believe you.”
Sitting as he is, Lan Wangji doesn’t look like his father. Qingheng, in their youth, was friendly and made friends easily, taking to socializing with an ease that eluded Lan Qiren. While he may not have always been smiling, like Xichen, his face held an openness that Lan Qiren’s youngest nephew had always lacked.
Lan Wangji is statue-like in his stillness until his eyes suddenly open and he stands. He turns slightly and, at first, the older man doesn’t realize what he’s doing… until he smiles. It is a small thing, a barely noticeable tilt at the corners of his lips that most people wouldn’t notice. But Qiren notices because he raised that boy and Lan Wangji doesn’t smile. To some people it’s unnerving, but he had always been a special boy, his deadpan face has always been just one of many eccentricities. He was a well behaved child so most overlooked any little oddities, except that phase he had until he was six where he kept on biting things. And people.
“Uncle, a boy said something to A-Zhan about not having a mother and he bit him. Please don’t be angry, I’ll talk to him! He’s…He’s just crying right now…”
“A-Ah, he was just nervous around all those adults, Uncle! Someone grabbed his shoulder so he just—.”
“Uncle, please don’t raise your voice! You don’t want him to bite the ends of his ribbon, you don’t want him to bite me, let him bite his sleeves! He just doesn’t know what to do with himself when he gets like this and it helps, Uncle! I promise I’m helping him, he’s just little…”
Thankfully, he had outgrown that phase just like the literature Qiren had consumed at the time had said he would.
Despite Lan Wangji’s face, he had never seemed… unhappy (the old Beta doesn’t count when his mother died, as it was expected… although he had miscalculated how much it’d affect his nephews at the time). And, if there was a problem, Xichen would have told him. His oldest nephew always had an easy time being able to tell what the Alpha was thinking, despite his propensity for silence, and had “translated” what Lan Wangji was thinking or feeling for Qiren on many occasions.
He follows his nephew’s gaze and sees that Wen walking down the path. Wen Ning walks with a servant, their body language appropriate, though they seem to be talking about something. Either way, he doesn’t see Lan Wangji at first, leaving the Alpha to stare at his approaching figure with that soft smile. When he does finally see him, he comically looks at him, looks back towards the servant, and then looks right back at Lan Wangji with wide, surprised eyes.
Lan Qiren sees his nephew’s smile tilt even higher.
Wen Ning and the servant hastily wrap up their conversation before going their separate ways. The Omega shyly tucks a strand of hair behind his ear as he approaches Lan Qiren’s nephew, a blush staining his face and a smudge of ink across his cheek. It’s like Lan Wangji can’t help himself, closing the remaining gap with two long strides and cupping the Omega’s face with both hands. His thumb wipes away the ink smudged on his face and his eyes soften when Wen Ning smiles at him, letting his face be tilted and—.
Lan Qiren turns away from his nephew’s brazen display of affection. A year ago, a few months ago, he would have thought that such behavior was beneath the Alpha. After all, he was a special boy and so unlike other Alphas, who were aggressive and instinct driven. So unlike his father. But… that look. He had seen it before.
Lan Wangji looked like he held the world in hands.
He’s sitting with the other sect elders, his nephew in front of them, his expression contorted into his familiar unreadable apathy. But he is absolutely stinking up the place.
As a Beta, his own pheromone production is milder, especially in comparison to Omegas and Alphas, but he can still smell them. Pheromones seep into his nostrils, trigger an animal part of him, but his body is not compelled to react. Alphas, when smelling an Omega in Heat, may respond with their own arousal, and the pheromones that accompany that, and the weakest among them can be compelled to atrocities. If an Omega scents distressed, an Alpha may release his own pheromones to comfort and may turn to the closest third party and react aggressively, in an effort to protect. So, while he isn’t compelled to do anything, he still detects all the anger and irritation that leaks into his nephew’s scent but remains off his face. A protective animal, pacing behind the bars of its cage.
“—gongzi, the reason why you took a second spouse was to produce an heir,” an elder to his left —he knows her from his parents’ generation, one of two still left, with cultivation high enough that she has the appearance of someone in their forties— says with a disapproving frown, “and there is no heir. Do we need to find you a third spouse?”
Lan Wangji’s face cracks and he bestows them with a rare expression of raw disgust. “Absolutely not. I will take no other spouses.”
“Lan-gongzi, you must understand it’s for the good of the sect…”
“I know that the elders are worried about the future of our sect,” the Alpha states, his voice quiet and resolute, “But I will not take anymore spouses. Wei Ying and Wen Ning are who I will build a family with. As for the issue of an heir, we have been told that it typically takes couples a year of trying before they conceive. Is this not true?”
The elders look at each other while Lan Qiren glares at his nephew.
Lan Qiren stood outside the room, desperately trying to overhear what was being discussed inside (even though it’s against the rules) but the silencing talismans did their job. Nothing but a full blown battle would be heard from the outside. He waited. And waited.
The door opened with an aggressive rattle. Qingheng’s face was creased in fury, his pheromones pouring off him. Angry. Protective.
Resigned.
“And is it not also true that it is rare for couples to conceive when their cycles are not aligned?”
“Lan-gongzi, we concede your point.”
“While we may concede your point” —the same elder speaks again— “we must object to the presence of Wen in the Cloud Recesses.”
“…This one assumes you’re talking about Wen Ning’s family?”
“Yes, they have been coming and going as they please.”
“It is forbidden to lie.”
“Excuse me?”
“It is forbidden to lie,” he repeats, maintaining intense and unnerving eye contact with the person that spoke, “They do not ‘come and go as they please’.”
“How would you describe it then?”
“Wen Qing is the only one who comes here. Because of what happened last time, she is the only one I trust when it comes to his health. She will probably be there when it’s time for him to give birth, to aid the Lan sect midwives.”
“You would trust a Wen more than your own sect’s healers?!”
“I do. I don’t like how the healers treat him, and I have wanted to speak of it for some time, but he’s requested I leave it be for now,” he pauses, takes a deep breath and continues on, “As his husband, I would feel more at ease knowing there’s a family member there advocating for his best interests.”
The room lapses into silence as the elders remember and take in the Alpha’s unhesitant answer.
He had taken it upon himself to visit his nephew, Lan Xichen following close behind, after some rather concerning news from disciples and servants alike. They were in a private section of the healing pavilion, there are two— one for Omegas and one for the sect leader and his family… they are in the latter— and the sight drew Lan Qiren up short. His nephew sat at a table with his eyes closed in concentration, each note saturated with qi, as he played a tune on his guqin meant to give the subject restful, dreamless sleep. Wei Wuxian, the menace, hovered over the bedridden Omega, wiping sweat off his brow with a wet rag. Lan Wangji had visible dark circles under his eyes while Wei Wuxian looked like he hadn’t slept or showered or eaten in days, his face creased in concern. Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon was askew, as if he had run his hand through his hair and his fingers got caught up in the ribbon.
Servants and disciples gave them a wide berth as they picked up the wreckage of the room, casting both men apprehensive, frightened glances. Even the Betas were shying away from their reeking pheromones.
Anger.
Sickness.
Worryworry.
Pain.
“Wangji, what happened?” Lan Xichen asked, taking a step into the room, shooting a worried look at the bedridden Omega and the Yiling Patriarch, “…Has Wen-gongzi taken a turn for the worst?”
His nephew’s face goes cold while his eyes blaze. Angry. Desperate.
“Lan Wangji!” he scolds.
The Alpha’s eyes turn to him, “There are rules carved on the Wall of Discipline, by Lan An himself, about how to treat one’s spouse. I know them by heart, now more than ever, Uncle.”
The ball of emotions in Lan Qiren’s chest thicken and tighten as past and present collide. He sees his brother, secluded, a woman slowly dying, alone, all her anger abandoned on the floor of a cottage she can never leave, a little boy waiting for a door to open that never will again, the Alpha sitting before him. It tangles together, choking the older man, and it condenses into anger. Was this how the late Nie-zongzhu felt when he had his qi deviation? So angry he could spit blood?
(It’s not anger, not really, it’s fear and helplessness and confusion, but anger is easy, too easy, and sometimes simpler… far simpler, far easier, than admitting he feels a fraction of what his brother maybe felt when watching a loved one on a dark, lonely path).
He opens his mouth —he knows he would have said something that he couldn’t take back, something that would alter their relationship permanently, that he wouldn’t know how to fix— but before he can say anything, the doors open.
Lan Xichen strides in, robes billowing and his chin raised in authority. As a Beta, his scent is mild but pleasant, but his nostrils flare as he steps into the room. A hard look crosses his face before it’s carefully tucked away —if he was an Alpha, Lan Qiren suspects his own pheromones would be joining his brother’s in intensity— as he turns to face his younger brother. “I’m sorry, Wangji, there is an urgent matter that needs your attention.”
The Alpha cocks his head in confusion before Lan Xichen leans over to whisper in his ear. It’s really only to give the other the illusion of privacy, since his cultivation-sharpened hearing catches the words:
“Wen-gongzi is going into Heat. Wei-gongzi sent me since he was… ah, indisposed.”
Subtly, Lan Wangji’s eyes widened. Less subtly, his scent flares… passionately.
“Thank you, xiongzhang,” he says but hesitates, casting a pointed side eye towards the clan elders who are pretending not to know what the two brothers are talking about.
“Go to your wife, I’ll take care of things here.”
The younger nods and politely takes his leave, although his steps seem more hastened than normal. The sect leader waits until the door closes before his expression falls into a cold, hard mask. It was an intimidating expression, one that earned him hushed, reverent whispers during the Sunshot Campaign. Even though Lan Qiren hadn’t been on the front lines, not like his nephews, he had heard tales of The Twin Jades of Gusu, how their cold expressions rivaled the cold steel of their swords, especially when Lan Xichen fought side by side, back to back, with Nie Mingjue more than once and how his icy cold demeanor contrasted with the current sect leader’s hot, volatile demeanor.
He had heard something similar about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, although those stories were more dramatic and conflicting, and he didn’t want to draw parallels where there were none. After all, the relationship between his oldest nephew and Nie Mingjue was nothing like the one between the two Alphas.
“Would anyone care to explain to me why this meeting was called but I, as your sect leader, was not informed?”
It’s a week later that he sees his nephews sitting together, having tea, joined by Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning. Cangse Sanren’s little hellion appears to be animatedly telling a story that has Wen Ning gaping, Lan Wangji blushing and Xichen smiling. Laughing, the Alpha leans against his nephew, kissing his cheek and cuddling into his side in a brazen display. The Omega shakes his head, but it looks fond rather than reprimanding and Lan Xichen’s saying something to his brother’s wife through his laughter.
His nephews, both of them, look like they’re having a good time.
Guan Xiangning. A name he hasn’t wanted to think about in a long time. This was not a world he knew with her. Her years in confinement, and his interactions with her, were not filled with laughter and easy conversation. Lectures, mainly, if they spoke, arguments, derision. Sometimes he can still hear her snapping, bitter laughter. The snarling flash of her teeth, the dark circles beneath her eyes, “If I told you what that man tried to do to me, Lan-laoshi, it wouldn’t change your mind.”
He wonders if this is an image that could have existed in another life. If his brother was allowed to fall in love with Guan Xiangning normally, marry her normally, would they have sat together like that? His brother and wife teasing him, Qiren acting more disgruntled then he actually felt. They would have been able to raise their children and the Beta would have been able to remain their uncle. He would have never been made to fill a role he was unprepared for, a role that he had never wanted to begin with.
You love those boys, don't you? Some part digs at him. A part of him, an inner voice, that sounds like Cangse Sanren in one moment and Guan Xiangning in the next. There's no reason to pretend to be resentful.
Resentful? Maybe not. But it would have been easier. He wouldn't constantly feel like he's walking on a narrow bridge, a steep ravine on one side, fearful of misstepping and falling over the edge.
Maybe it would have been the five of them sitting at a table, laughing and smiling. Maybe he would have been able to spoil his nephews. Maybe his brother would be alive, maybe he would be able to remember his voice with the same clarity he could recall Guan Xiangning's.
Maybe there would be no reason for him to struggle to remember his voice at all. Lan Qiren would be able to go to his brother now, wouldn't have to even schedule a meeting to see him, and share some tea with him, would consider bending the "no talking rule" to ask about his wife's latest Nighthunt.
With difficulty, Lan Qiren pushes the thoughts aside. There’s no use thinking about what ifs.