Chapter Text
Last he stood on this stone path that led to the sturdy wooden house before him, Lan Wangji had been just shy of 18. His brother, freshly in his 20s, had stood beside him with a smile bright enough for them both, as he always did. They had stood there and stared at the door until it opened, and their mother had stepped out with a bright smile of her own.
Lan Wangji had stepped forward into his mother’s outstretched arms and then into her home that always smelled like peonies and whatever vegetable stew she had been preparing for them to eat. It had always smelled like home in a way Gusu never had.
It had been late summer, then.
Beyond the walls of the house, the sun had been beating down on the tranquil garden. In it, his mother had grown flowers and vegetables, all thriving in the summer heat. Underneath a weeping tree sat a serene pond where she had liked to wash the clothes that were too delicate for the washer their father had made sure she had and where, sometimes, Lan Wangji and his brother had liked to dip their bare toes.
Lan Wangji had always enjoyed their bi-monthly stays at his mother’s, however brief those stays always were. This particular stay had been no different, only a few days and no more, so he had soaked in her presence, sat with her on the porch in the mornings to watch the sunrise, and helped her in the kitchen in the evenings.
And he had been entirely unaware that this would be the last time he would see her, talk to her, hold her, and be held by her.
In hindsight, Lan Xichen had probably known.
He had been more quiet, more reserved, during this stay, a quality he usually let Lan Wangji take on. But he must have known because, though they had both been sad when their father had come to retrieve them much too soon, Lan Xichen had seemed sadder and hugged their mother a little tighter, a little longer, than usual.
And on the way home, he had been quiet. Much too quiet.
To Lan Wangji, his mother’s death had come out of nowhere, though only because he had not known that her sickness was terminal. This house—her house—was located quite far from where he and his brother had lived with their father, now with their uncle. She had always been separated from the family, for reasons that Lan Wangji still did not understand, and he had not been able to see her in the months leading up to her passing, so he had not been there to see the rapid decline in her health.
Her death, when it happened, had come as a shock to him.
As a result, Lan Wangji had not been back here since.
When his brother and father had gone to clear the house, he had not joined them. He had wanted to, to honor her and bid her a proper farewell that her funeral had not allowed him to, but he had not been able to join them.
Even then, he knew that if he were to step onto this stone path again, he would not leave. The grief would keep him there, rooting him to the ground until he became just another tree in his mother’s garden.
And so, he had stayed back and once his brother and father had returned, the house had been left unattended. Untouched and uncared for but never sold because none of them could stomach the idea of someone else living in it, stepping on her memory.
Many years had passed since.
Neither Lan Wangji nor his brother had had the time to see the house after their father had passed on as well. Or perhaps that was inaccurate. Neither of them had made time for it; Lan Xichen because he was now the head of the family alongside their uncle and could not, and Lan Wangji because... well.
He did not want to see the house empty and dilapidated, the garden withering and dead.
Lan Wangji was 26 now and alone, no one by his side.
In front of him, the front door was closed, even though he had been standing there for many minutes. A part of him—a silly, ridiculous part—imagined the door opening and his mother stepping out with that bright smile and nothing but love and excitement in her eyes.
But the door remained closed, no matter how much he tried to will it to open.
Around him, the garden looked much the same as it always had.
It was full of life and greenery, despite having been left unattended for so many years. Even the pond looked no different, nor was it filled with almost a decade’s worth of dead leaves from the weeping tree looming above it, like he had expected it to be. He had expected it all to be in ruins, aged and torn by the passing years without care.
But it all looked the same and well cared for, so he stared at the door and tried to make it open.
Māma was a word that rested on his tongue but never left.
He could not say it.
She would not be here.
To his knowledge, no one had been here for almost a decade. His brother had not told him about any caretaker, though he supposed it was possible Lan Xichen had hired one without telling him. Or uncle, perhaps, though uncle never quite approved of their mother, so it would be a surprise.
Then why was it that the house and then garden around it looked so well taken care of if it had been left unattended for this many years?
So well taken care of that Lan Wangji looked at it and felt just shy of 18 again, expecting his mother to step out and take him into her embrace, tell him it was all okay and—
“Oh!”
A voice behind him yanked him out of his thoughts.
Lan Wangji blinked at the unopened door and turned to look over his shoulder.
Behind him by the entrance gate stood a man. A man whose long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail that sat high on the back of his head, a few locks artfully though messily framing his slender face. He wore a black hanfu-style shirt with the loose sleeves rolled up and fastened with red strings above his elbows, the neckline deeper than was traditional. The hem was tugged into his pants which sat loosely on his long legs.
On his shoulder hung a bag and in one hand he carried a net while in the other he held a worn hoe and a dirty shovel. His eyes were wide and glued to him. Lan Wangji could not tell which color they were from this distance but against his sun-kissed skin, they looked bright.
Lan Wangji tightened his hold on his luggage and turned to him properly.
“Hello!” the man continued, a smile quickly replacing his surprised expression. “I wasn’t aware someone would be showing up today, otherwise I would’ve dressed different, made myself look more presentable.”
Lan Wangji took in the sight of him, then asked, “You are the keeper?”
Perhaps his brother did hire someone, after all.
The man laughed and stepped farther onto the grounds with an ease that told Lan Wangji it was not the first time he was here. “If I got paid for this,” the man said, humor in his voice, “I would be a rich man by now. Or so I imagine, I don’t know how much gardening pays.”
Lan Wangji stared at him. “You do it for free,” he said, matter of fact rather than a question.
“It didn’t seem right for it to just be left unattended, so yeah, I do,” the man said and came to a stop before him.
They were almost the same height, Lan Wangji noted, though this man was a few inches shorter than him. His eyes were a beautiful grey, Lan Wangji also quietly noted, and held a brightness that made the world sway a little. Those eyes looked into his for only a moment before they dropped to the luggage by his feet.
When the man looked at him again, his smile was a little tighter, strained.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he said, “but the place isn’t for sale, if that’s why you’re here.”
Lan Wangji blinked at him. He said, “It is mine.”
It was, technically. His mother had left it for him.
The man blinked back at him. Then, a beat later, his eyes widened, and he lifted the net to point it at Lan Wangji. The net was dirty, and Lan Wangji took a quiet step backwards to avoid it.
“You’re one of the sons!” the man exclaimed, louder than necessary. “Of course! I don’t know how I didn’t see it immediately, you’re like a spitting image of her.”
Something loosened in Lan Wangji’s chest. “You knew my mother,” he said, rather than asked.
“Of course,” the man said, that bright smile back on his lips. “Madam Lan was a valued part of this town. I helped her out whenever she needed an extra hand, especially toward the e— ah. Erm.” The smile vanished in a blink, and the man cleared his throat almost awkwardly, before he said, “You do know she’s, um. Well...”
“Dead,” Lan Wangji finished when the man fell silent, waving his hands around if trying to pull the words from the air. “Yes. I know.”
The man hummed and bobbed his head in a nod. Then, after a moment, awkwardness seemingly forgotten, he asked, “So, which one are you?”
Lan Wangji furrowed his brows in a silent question.
“She had two sons, right?” The man tilted his head, tapping the handle of the net against his chin as his eyes raked over Lan Wangji’s body, uncomfortably observing. “Are you the older one or the younger? Hmm. You look about the same age as me, so I’d guess you’re the younger one. Am I right... Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji stared at him, startled by the familiarity. “Shameless,” he muttered.
The man laughed, bright and loud. “Calm down, calm down,” he said, still chuckling. “Your mother talked about you so much, I feel like we’re already close friends. If it makes you feel better, you can use my formal name too. Wei Ying!”
Wei Ying. Wei Ying.
Lan Wangji exhaled sharply but said nothing, mouth set in a thin line.
“Anyway.” Unceremoniously, Wei Ying dropped his tools and his bag on the gravel ground beside the stone path, then he walked up to the steps leading to the front door. “Let’s get your luggage dropped off, and then I’ll show you around town. It’s probably a lot different than last you were here, a lot’s happened. How exciting!”
Lan Wangji watched as Wei Ying hopped up the steps with an ease Lan Wangji could not find in himself. He watched as Wei Ying fished a ring of keys out of his pocket and started to siffle through them.
In his throat, Lan Wangji’s breath caught.
He opened his mouth to tell him to stop when Wei Ying triumphantly presented a key and started to move it toward the keyhole in the door, though the word never left his lips. It died in his throat, killed by his caught breath.
He was not ready.
But the door opened anyway, and his mother did not step out.
Instead, Wei Ying turned in the doorway and looked at him with a wide smile.
“Well, come on,” he said, urging him inside with a hand motion. “We’re wasting daylight.”
Lan Wangji swallowed thickly and took a second to move. Evidently, that was a second too long because Wei Ying hopped back down the porch steps and was over by his side in a blink. And Lan Wangji could say not a word as Wei Ying grabbed a bag in each hand and started carrying them into the house.
“You’ll love it here,” Wei Ying said as he set the bags inside, already turning to come back to him. “It’s not a big town, but we’re a tight community. Like a little family! Sort of, anyway. Not everyone gets along, but we have weekly town dinners at the community center. Or, well, we used to, but I think the oven’s broken. Which is no one’s fault! If anyone says differently, don’t listen to them, Lan Zhan. I swear, it was no one’s fault.”
Lan Wangji got the sense that it was someone’s fault, perhaps Wei Ying’s own.
But he did not get to say as much because then Wei Ying was before him and grabbed onto his wrist, and then he was being dragged toward the house and could do nothing but allow his feet to move. He stepped up the wooden steps to the porch, and then he stood in the house’s entryway and his mother was not there to brush a lock of hair behind his ear nor to kiss the top of his head in hello.
She was not here. The house was empty.
Quiet. Too quiet, though only for a moment.
“Come on,” Wei Ying said beside him, patting his arm as he let go. “Drop your stuff and we should be able to get through the whole town before sundown. Maybe we can even catch the sunset on the rooftop! You need to see that. It’s something else, really makes you love this town. Everything becomes so orange and pink.”
As he spoke, Wei Ying took the bag from Lan Wangji’s hand, the death grip on the handle loosening as Wei Ying’s calloused fingers brushed against his own. Once it was on the floor with the rest of the bags, Wei Ying reached up to take the sword-carrying bag from Lan Wangji’s shoulder, but Lan Wangji slipped it off and carefully put it down himself before Wei Ying could get more than a millimeter near it.
Undeterred, Wei Ying merely swung his hands behind his back and smiled at him.
And then he fell quiet, and Lan Wangji took the quiet moment to look around.
The house looked much the same in here as well. Dust did not float in the air, nor was the furniture covered in plastic to keep them from becoming dirty over the years, as he had expected. No, it was the same, as if she had not left at all and was merely out on a walk but would be back soon enough to welcome him and take him into her arms.
To the left was her bed, still made but flat from disuse, and the circular window beside it still faced the greenery behind the house. To the right was the sitting area where he had sat with her and read and listened to her read and had his hair taken care of numerous times over the years.
If he squinted, he could still picture her sitting there, holding out a hand to invite him to join her.
A-Zhan, she would say, in that calm voice. Come here, bao bao.
And Lan Wangji would go, as if it was the easiest thing.
He did not move now, because she did not call for him. She was not here.
“Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji blinked out his daze and turned his attention behind him where Wei Ying stood in the doorway, one hand around the doorknob and his head tilted curiously. Behind him, the sun was already starting to lower, casting the blue sky in a splash of orange, right above Wei Ying’s head.
“Are you coming?” Wei Ying asked, a toothy smile on his lips.
Lan Wangji stared at him and, for a brief moment, thought to turn around and look at the empty house behind him again. But the mere thought of it felt suffocating and too much. So, pushing the heavy weight on his chest aside, he nodded and took a step toward Wei Ying’s outstretched hand.
“Mn,” he said in a low hum.
He did not reach for Wei Ying’s offered hand, though his eyes lingered on those calloused fingers for just a moment. Instead, he stepped out of the stuffy house and let out a quiet breath.
He did not turn around as he stepped down the porch, only listened as Wei Ying closed the door and locked it, nor did he turn around when Wei Ying came up beside him. He merely told himself to breathe and followed him off the property.
Out there, however, it did not get easier to breathe.
Wei Ying took him in toward town.
The town laid nestled in a valley between the mountains outside Gusu. It was built many hundreds of years ago when refugees once settled in these areas, war driving them close to the Lan military branch in search of protection. Even after said war had ended and the military branch slowly became something else entirely over the course of centuries, the people had stayed, their roots firmly planted around the mountain valley.
Housing wrapped around the mountainside while a marketplace and various districts laid farther toward the foot of the mountains, bridged over the river that ran through it. The Lan house was on the outskirts of this valley town, away from the other residents. It laid settled in the tight woods that separated this town from the rest of Gusu and the neighboring Lanling.
Though they were so far from any other residents, they did not have to walk long before they ran into another person.
A timid-looking man was walking down the trail in the opposite direction, arms held out in front of him and weighed down by several bags of what looked like potting soil. His gaze was downcast as he walked, struggling very little despite the clear heaviness of the bags, though his loose, long hair swept over his face and obscured his vision.
Lan Wangji was content to ignore him and keep walking, but next to him, Wei Ying suddenly stopped walking with an exclaimed ah! and a startled jump.
“Wen Ning!” he called out, startling the timid-looking man to look up.
“Ah,” the man, who must be Wen Ning, said and blinked at them. “Wei-xiong. I—”
“Change of plans, Wen Ning!” Wei Ying said, bounding over to the man and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He pulled him in toward himself, jostling him in a half-hug. Lan Wangji was surprised Wen Ning did not drop the soil. “We will plant the seeds another day. I have more important matters to attend to right now.”
Wei Ying looked at Lan Wangji and smiled as he said, “There’s a new resident in town.”
Lan Wangji eyed him for a mere moment before his gaze shifted back to Wen Ning, who looked at him in return. Wen Ning looked to be about their age but with the wideness of his eyes and the fat on his cheeks, he could easily be younger as well. There was an air of innocence about him too.
Lan Wangji nodded at him in greeting but did not move nor did he speak.
Wei Ying still had his arm around Wen Ning and did not seem in a rush to let go.
Casual touches... Lan Wangji ignored the feeling of discomfort that stirred in him.
“Ah,” Wen Ning exhaled, then bowed his head at Lan Wangji. “We-Welcome to town, xiansheng.”
Lan Wangji bowed his head in return. “Mn,” he hummed but said no more.
“Aiyoh,” Wei Ying tutted and gave Wen Ning’s shoulder a squeeze before finally letting go. “What two talkative birds you are. Can’t get a word in with you guys, huh.”
Lan Wangji gave him a flat look. In return, Wei Ying grinned toothily.
Wen Ning turned to Wei Ying tentatively. “W-Wei-xiong,” he said quietly. “The soil...”
“Ah.” Wei Ying scratched his nose, then he said, “Put it outside the fence, then go home to your sister. Like I said, we will plant the seeds another day.”
Wen Ning nodded and without another word, he scurried off. As he passed Lan Wangji, he shot him a quick glance but when their eyes met, he startled and flushed almost in embarrassment. Quickly, he bowed his head and disappeared in the direction they had come only minutes ago.
Lan Wangji stared after him.
Then, slowly, he turned back and looked at Wei Ying and his innocent smile.
After a beat, Lan Wangji asked, “Are you planting in my mother’s garden?”
“Well!” Wei Ying said, much too loudly, as he bounded back over to him with too big a smile. “We should continue the tour, shouldn’t we, Lan Zhan!”
He did not wait for an answer. He merely grabbed Lan Wangji’s wrist and dragged him along. With a quiet sigh, Lan Wangji decided to let it pass and merely followed him toward the town in the mountain valley.
They passed a waterfall that carried into a stream, a stream they followed when mountain ground became wooden surface—bridges and flooring and steps that took them through the housing district along the mountainside. Most houses had their doors open, letting in the cool afternoon breeze, and residents sat inside with their dinners while the slowly setting sun painted them in warm orange.
As they walked past, only a few looked their way though none seemed particularly interested. Even as Wei Ying waved at their few curious onlookers, all they got in return was a dismissive hand movement and some muttered words of disregard before each of them turned back to their meals and paid them no mind.
“Don’t mind them,” Wei Ying leaned close to him to say. “We’re a wonderful and welcoming town, I promise.”
Lan Wangji did not believe him, though he did not say.
Wei Ying dragged him through the housing district and down the other side of the mountain where they crossed over a bridge arching the flowing river. Distantly, Lan Wangji was aware that Wei Ying was still holding onto his wrist, his touch warm against his skin, though he did not comment on it.
But when Wei Ying let go as he hopped onto the bridge ahead of him, his wrist suddenly felt much colder. Quietly, Lan Wangji tugged his sleeve down and paid it no mind.
“Careful of the water here,” Wei Ying said, spinning around to face him as he walked backward. “When it rains, this bridge can get slippery, and you might fall and end up in the water. But don’t worry! It’s shallow, so you won’t drown.”
Lan Wangji furrowed his brows. Wei Ying sounded like he spoke from experience.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that though,” Wei Ying said with a shrug, as if he’d heard Lan Wangji’s thoughts. He spun back around, hands clasped behind his back. “I’ve never fallen in, not even once in my life, Lan Zhan. I swear it.”
Again, Lan Wangji did not believe him.
But all he did was hum a low, “Mn.”
Beyond the bridge, the valley opened up to the inner town, welcoming them with a large open area where a closed information booth sat to the side and a stage stood empty across from it. Neither looked recently used, the stage a bit worse for wear.
“We used to get a lot of tourists,” Wei Ying told him as he took him through the area. “The theater performances used to draw a lot of people here, particularly the sword dances. But then they stopped, and people started to lose interest and now, well. We’re lucky if we get a couple hundred foreigners popping in to see the cliff housing and wander through the market to grab some locally grown food.”
“Why did the performances stop?” Lan Wangji found himself asking.
Wei Ying turned to him with a quiet smile and said, “The teacher died.”
Lan Wangji stopped in his tracks.
He stared at Wei Ying for a moment, then turned his attention to the empty, abandoned stage.
His mother had always had a love for sword dancing, a practice the Lan family had adopted once their military duties had ended. She was not a born Lan, however, and had merely married into the family, but her practices had been part of what made Lan Wangji’s father fall for her, or so Lan Wangji was once told.
His mother had taught him as well, whenever he had been allowed to visit her. He had practiced at home too because he had to. It was mandatory for Lan members to learn and practice and perform, it was what made a Lan a Lan. But practicing had been so different here, with his mother. It had felt freer, less restrictive, less mandatory and more because he wanted to, and she wanted to too.
She had been the first to teach him as a boy and once he had started living as one as well, eventually, the elders had started teaching him too. Delayed for which he was punished because Lan men were supposed to start much sooner than he had.
But eventually, he had learned the Lan steps and showed his mother.
And she had smiled and clapped her hands and taught him her ways too.
Lan Wangji did not know she had helped others too, let alone performed here.
“Come on.”
Lan Wangji tore his gaze away from the stage and looked back at Wei Ying. Wei Ying was smiling at him, softer now, almost in understanding. He was holding out his hand and nodding his head toward the archway that likely led farther into town.
“We still have much to see,” he said.
Lan Wangji looked at the outstretched hand. His fingers itched to take it, but when he stepped forward without doing so, Wei Ying made no comment about it and merely clasped his hands behind his back again as he took them through the archway and into town.
The town closed in with a marketplace, stores and buildings narrowing the cobbled street. People still milled about, children walking hand in hand with their parent and elderly walking arm in arm. Most were heading in the opposite direction, toward the housing district. It was late and the marketplace was likely closing for the evening, sending them all trudging home.
They passed a few vendors who, sure enough, were closing their stores and securing their wares for the coming night. Each turned to them as they passed because Wei Ying called out to them like they were close friends, and each vendor greeted him like he was the mayor, bowing deeply and smiling widely.
Those same vendors, however, all eyed Lan Wangji with caution, which, he knew, was not uncommon. He had only ever really seen the confines of the inner circle of Gusu. Rarely had he ventured outside, since he had no reason to. On the rare occasions that he did, he would come here to this town. To see his mother with his brother, and they would sit in her garden and not leave her property.
Because she would not, so they would not either.
And still, Lan Wangji knew many in these parts were wary of strangers.
Here, despite having grown up on the outskirts, Lan Wangji was a stranger, and he was not a foreigner excited to experience their culture. These people did not know him and were wary of him, even though he walked beside a man they so clearly adored. There was no other reason for their stares.
But still, Lan Wangji found himself straightening up and squaring his shoulders just a little and for once, he was glad that he felt no need to check his hair too.
The constant stopping and Wei Ying’s need to greet each vendor they passed made walking through the marketplace slow, though Lan Wangji found he did not mind. It gave him time to take in the town that he had grown up only minutes from but never seen. It seemed like a pleasant town, once one had settled well enough.
Not that Lan Wangji planned to settle here.
He was only here until the elders forgot about his sins.
The marketplace ended, and they crossed another bridge, this one longer and lined with benches on either side. It overlooked the valley and the mountains, the view stunning as the sun set and cast the sturdy bridge in its warm glow. Below their feet, water ran quietly. Lan Wangji wanted to pause and take in the sight of the setting sun, but Wei Ying continued walking, so Lan Wangji did too.
This bridge opened up to a district that, in contrast to the marketplace, seemed to only just be coming to life. It was a much smaller area, though Wei Ying seemed much more excited to walk here, bouncing in his steps as he walked ahead of Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji took his eyes off him and looked at the buildings they passed instead.
All of them, it seemed, were bars.
A few restaurants, perhaps, but mostly, they were bars and clubs.
“Wei Wuxian!” someone called out from above them.
Wei Ying stopped, so Lan Wangji did too, and he followed his gaze up to where a middle-aged man was leaning out of an open window above them. Inside, there was loud chatter and before them, the door to the building stood wide open, inviting people inside for a “good nightcap” according to the sign hanging from the doorframe.
“Ah, Lao Hou!” Wei Ying called back, lifting a hand to wave. “Good evening!”
“Are you coming in?” the man asked. “We have freshly imported Emperor’s Smile, just for you!”
Wei Ying laughed, clutching his heart. “You spoil me, Lao Hou!” he said. Then, he turned to Lan Wangji with a grin and a waggle of his brows as he asked, “What do you say, Lan Zhan? Wanna buy me a drink?”
Lan Wangji stared at him. The chatter inside the bar was loud, much too loud.
He did not want to buy him a drink.
In lieu of an answer, he turned and kept walking.
“Ah! Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaimed behind him.
Lan Wangji did not stop. It was quieter over here.
“Lan Zhan, wai— Lao Hou! I’ll be back later! Save a bottle— save four for me! Lan Zhan!”
It did not take Wei Ying long to catch up, because Lan Wangji had not walked far, nor did he walk fast. Wei Ying came up beside him and tutted. When Lan Wangji glanced at him, Wei Ying had his bottom lip poked out in a pout.
Like a spoiled child.
Lan Wangji looked away and did not roll his eyes.
“So rude, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying muttered. “Won’t even help a small business owner out.”
“Wei Ying will buy four bottles later,” Lan Wangji said, as a reminder.
“But I buy four bottles each week,” Wei Ying said in a scoff. “Your money is new money, and new money is good for business, Lan Zhan! Support small businesses, won’t you?”
Lan Wangji hummed. “I will buy tofu at the market tomorrow.”
Beside him, Wei Ying whined dramatically and slumped over, though he kept walking. “Lan Zhaaan,” he said. “You’re not allowed to be funny while denying a good man simple pleasures.”
“Alcohol is bad for y—”
“Ah!” Wei Ying suddenly stood up straight, fingers in his ears, like a little child. “I don’t want to hear it! No slandering in this town!”
Lan Wangji stopped walking to stare as Wei Ying shook his head and kept his fingers in his ears. It took Wei Ying a minute to notice that Lan Wangji had stopped walking and when he did, he turned and dropped his hands, a grin spreading across his face, too bright for the night settling over the town, the streetlamps adopting the sun’s orange glow.
Lan Wangji stared at him, then he huffed and muttered, “Childish.”
He ignored Wei Ying’s chiming laughter and continued walking.
The town quieted farther in, where it opened to another spacious area.
There was greenery here, trees whose crowns hung and cast shade onto the benches that wrapped around their stumps, and a fenced-in playground to the side, next to an empty dirt lot. At the end, settled against the mountain wall, was a large wooden building with big windows facing out toward them.
Wei Ying stopped walking there, so Lan Wangji did the same.
“And last but not least,” Wei Ying said as he spun around to stand before him, arms out wide to present the building, “this is our beloved community center.”
Lan Wangji took his gaze off Wei Ying to look at the building.
It looked quite weatherworn, dilapidated—a little worse for wear. It was not in complete ruins or falling apart quite yet, though it was closer to being so than any other building they had passed by. It was clearly well loved, well used, but time and the mountain conditions had worn it down, its foundation likely not built right.
The building was in dire need of a touch up and perhaps a renovation... or three.
“I know,” Wei Ying said, hands clasped behind himself again and a crooked smile on his lips. “It doesn’t look so pretty right now. But! Once upon a time, this was the prettiest building in the whole valley. Unfortunately, with the lack of tourists coming by, the town’s budget is pretty tight, so we haven’t been able to afford to get it fixed up. We still love it dearly, though. Use it daily. We have lots of activities here.”
Lan Wangji blinked, then turned to stare at him. “Are you the mayor?” he asked.
Wei Ying whipped his head around, wide eyed and mouth gaping. And then he laughed, like what Lan Wangji had said was the funniest thing. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed and laughed and laughed.
Lan Wangji frowned at him, unsure what was so funny about his question.
“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, breathless as he stood back upright and wiped imaginative tears from his eyes. “Lan Zhan ah, Lan Zhan. That’s hilarious. Did I sound like a salesman? I’m sorry, I’m just very proud of this town despite how rough it looks these days. But no, I’m not the mayor. God, I would bring this whole town to complete ruin if I was. Not that they would ever elect me. No one wants to see that.”
Lan Wangji doubted that was true. He had seen the way people had greeted Wei Ying as they walked through town, but he did not know this man well enough to dispute it. So, he merely said nothing. Not that he got much time to either, because Wei Ying continued after a heavy exhale and another chuckle that shook his shoulders animatedly.
“Anyway,” he said. “We have a communal garden out back, but Wen Ning and a few others have been redoing it because the rain season drowned too many of our crops, so I’ll have to show you another time. There is something I want to show you inside though— Ah! A-Yuan!”
Wei Ying stopped so abruptly, it took Lan Wangji a beat to catch up. When he did, he followed Wei Ying’s gaze back to the community center and saw a woman with a young child walking down the stairs that led to the building’s entrance.
Next to him, Wei Ying lifted a hand in the air and waved at the same time the child did.
“Xian-gege!” the child called back, then he let go of the woman’s hand and came sprinting toward them.
Wei Ying dropped to a crouch and held out his arms only seconds before the child reached them, running right into those enveloping arms. The child giggled as Wei Ying hugged him tightly, squeezing the life out of him, though even Lan Wangji could see that it was mere pretend.
Something stirred within him, and Lan Wangji tore his eyes away to look at the approaching woman instead. She looked at him too, a neutral expression on her face but it was the kind of neutral that felt more calculating and observing than a simple look.
Lan Wangji put his hands behind his back and stood up a little straighter.
“Oh, my little radish,” Wei Ying said beside him. “How was class today? Were you good for you Qing-jiejie?”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Lan Wangji saw the child, now free from the tight embrace but still enveloped by Wei Ying’s arms, nod furiously with a happy smile that dimpled his cheeks. As he nodded, the two buns on either side of his head bobbed ever so slightly and his eyes held a pride and joy that made Lan Wangji’s chest warm.
But he did not react, for there were eyes on him.
“It was so fun!” the child said. “And I was good and behaved good, right, Qing-jiejie?”
Both the child and Wei Ying looked up then, the child’s eyes going to the woman while Wei Ying looked at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji did not look back, but he could tell the smile on Wei Ying’s face faded as he cleared his throat and then stood.
“Yes,” the woman said, eyes glued to Lan Wangji. “A-Yuan was very good, as always.”
A happy noise came out of the child—A-Yuan, it would seem—but it went unnoticed. A-Yuan must have sensed the shift because then he wrapped himself around Wei Ying’s leg and went quiet. Lan Wangji glanced down and saw Wei Ying lay a gentle hand on the child’s head, but he was quick to look back and meet the woman’s eye again.
“Hello,” she said.
Lan Wangji nodded in greeting in return.
“Wen Qing,” Wei Ying said beside him. “This is Lan Zhan—”
“Lan Wangji,” Lan Wangji corrected.
“Ah.” Wei Ying cleared his throat and said, “This is Lan Wangji. Madam Lan’s son.”
In a blink, something cleared in the woman’s eyes and her face slackened. “Oh,” she said. “My condolences.”
“Thank you,” Lan Wangji said, out of habit.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying continued, gesturing to the woman. “This is Wen Qing. She’s the town doctor and occasional substitute when a teacher goes rogue and decides planting herbs is a better pastime than teaching.”
He laughed as he said it and only laughed more when Wen Qing turned an exasperated look his way. Ah. So Wei Ying was a teacher here. Suddenly, Lan Wangji felt the urge to ask what he taught or where the school was, but he found the words stuck in his throat.
“And I can see,” Wen Qing said, “that said pastime was unsuccessful.”
“Temporarily put on hold,” Wei Ying said with a lifted finger. “But the plans remain in motion. Just you wait, Wen Qing. I will grow so much chili, we will never have to power through another bland meal ever again.”
Wen Qing hummed, as if in doubt. “That remains to be seen,” she said, then she turned her gaze back to Lan Wangji. “Welcome to town. I’m sorry you were stuck with this one as a guide.”
Wei Ying guffawed in offense and muttered a quiet, “The slander I receive. Completely unwarranted.”
Lan Wangji ignored him and bowed his head at Wen Qing as he said, “It is fine.”
“I’m sure.” Wen Qing inhaled quietly, then she turned to Wei Ying and asked, “I assume you’re going to show him the memorial?”
A breath caught in Lan Wangji’s throat. He stared but said nothing.
“Well, it was going to be a surprise,” Wei Ying said, “but yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Good.” Wen Qing held out a hand and said, “A-Yuan, let’s go find A-Ning. I’m sure he’s left wandering aimlessly around since his plans with Xian-ge were cancelled so abruptly.”
“I gave him the day off!” Wei Ying argued, a little helplessly. “I was being generous!”
“Yes, of course,” Wen Qing said, wrapping her hand around A-Yuan’s when he reluctantly let go of Wei Ying’s leg to grab it. “So generous.”
She smiled at them and A-Yuan waved goodbye with a wide-eyed look at Lan Wangji, and then they left. Wei Ying crossed his arms with a harrumph and blew at a lock of loose hair that had fallen down over his face.
Lan Wangji stared after Wen Qing and A-Yuan for a moment, then he turned to Wei Ying and asked, “Memorial?”
In a blink, Wei Ying’s face softened. He nodded and said, “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Wei Ying took him up the stairs and into the community center. It was quiet at this hour, with only a handful of people still milling about, hushed conversations getting carried out through the halls as they walked by. The building was a little nicer inside than it was outside; kept clean and well put together and clearly well loved. But it was still worn, crumpling a little.
They passed by several rooms where the doors stood wide open, inviting anyone to come in. They passed a library too, the shelves filled with books and a few people wandering between the stacks. They passed a cafeteria and what looked like a gymnasium too.
They did not stop at any of these rooms. Wei Ying barely even paused as he told Lan Wangji about them before he continued on, clearly on a mission. That mission took them around a corner and down a couple stairs where the building quieted even further until the noise of people was far in the distance.
Lan Wangji walked close behind and took very little in, his hands clenched tightly behind him.
At the end of a hallway was a closed door. Here, Wei Ying stopped to dig through his pockets.
“We keep it locked, usually,” he said. “Had one vandalization a few years back, so we decided to always keep it locked and only give a key to a couple people. I have one, Wen Qing has one. If you ever want to come here on your own, just ask either of us, and we’ll let you borrow ours. Or you can borrow mine, at least. Can’t speak for Wen Qing yet, but she’ll soften up to you, no doubt. Or I can introduce you to Lao Han. He has a key too and he’ll give it to you because you’re madam Lan’s son.”
Wei Ying fished out his ring of keys and siffled through them for a moment before he held out one and moved to unlock the door. It unlocked with a click that felt deafening in this quiet, echo-y part of the building, and then he pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Unbreathing, Lan Wangji peered inside.
The rest of the building was illuminated by large windows, letting in as much natural daylight as possible. It was getting dark now and the overhead lights had turned on, imitating the sun with its gentle light. In this room, however, there were no such windows which left the room much darker although not entirely.
On the walls hung lamps that cast the room in a gentle orange glow and in the back electric candlelight flickered minutely where they were placed carefully on the corners of a wooden shrine. In it, the shelves were lined with stone tablets, names etched into each one.
Lan Wangji did not have to look long before he found his mother’s name, right there at the top.
Without a word, he stepped inside and walked up to her. He did not take his eyes off her name as he kneeled down on the hard floor in front of the memorial shrine, nor did he take his eyes off her as Wei Ying stepped up behind him.
“Your father wanted her to be part of it,” he said quietly. “He came here insisting we add her to the shrine, but he only really had to ask once. We were all honored to keep her spirit safe here.”
Lan Wangji wanted to say thank you, but the words stuck to his throat.
He could not look away.
Gently, Wei Ying put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll wait outside. Take your time.”
A moment later, the door closed behind him.
Lan Wangji sat alone and stared at his mother’s name. She sat surrounded by others—many Wens and right next to a Changse Sanren, he noted absently—and seemed well taken care of, as were the others. Before them, an incense burned, already near done as if someone had lit it earlier in the day.
Lan Wangji looked at his mother’s name and did not cry.
Though his throat felt tight with longing, and his chest squeezed much too tight with old grief.
He did not know how long he sat there but when he stood, his legs had lost some feeling and his knees ached. He clasped his hands before him and bowed quietly to his mother, to her companions, and then he turned and walked back out the room.
As he had said, Wei Ying stood on the other side. He stood leaning against the wall on the opposite side with his phone out, scrolling mindlessly. He did not look bored, though Lan Wangji could not imagine he was entertained either.
When Lan Wangji closed the door behind himself with a heavy feeling, Wei Ying looked up and smiled brightly at him.
“Welcome back,” he said and pushed himself off the wall as he pocketed his phone.
Lan Wangji nodded at him, then he said, “I would like to go back.”
The smile on Wei Ying’s lips fell and softened, then he nodded as well. “Okay, Lan Zhan. I’ll take you home.”
The walk back to the Lan house was quiet.
Wei Ying walked him all the way back to the house and stood in the open gate while Lan Wangji walked up the steps to the porch. It was only when he wrapped his hand around the doorknob that Lan Wangji hesitated and found himself looking back over his shoulder at Wei Ying.
Wei Ying smiled at him and saluted him with two fingers to his forehead.
“Good night, Lan Zhan!” he called out as he stepped back. “See you tomorrow!”
And then he left, walking away with a bounce in his step and a melodical whistling.
Lan Wangji watched him leave, then he inhaled deeply and opened the door.
The house had not changed in the hours he was gone. He had not thought it would, it would be impossible for it to, but there was a heaviness on his chest that felt like disappointment anyway. Perhaps not at the unchanged interior but at the emptiness of it.
He was disappointed that the door opened—that he had opened it—and his mother was still not there, back from her walk.
Lan Wangji stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Mechanically, he took his bags to the living area to the right and started to unpack. He had only unloaded his books, placed neatly on the shelf where his mother’s still were, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It had remained silent all day, though very few ever reached out to him on a normal day. But due to his current circumstances, there was only one person who would contact him, let alone call him.
Lan Wangji took out his phone and pressed accept call without looking at the caller.
“Xiongzhang,” he said in lieu of greeting.
“Wangji,” his brother said in his ear. “Good evening.”
“Evening.”
“Did you get there alright? I worried when I didn’t hear from you all day.”
Ah. “I apologize for worrying you. I arrived fine.”
“That’s good.” Lan Xichen exhaled, as if in relief. “And how is it? How is mā’s place?”
Lan Wangji looked around the house, unchanged from their childhood. “Fine,” he said because it was.
“Do you need anything?” Lan Xichen asked. “Money for materials, for workers? Anything?”
“No,” Lan Wangji said. “It’s... that’s not necessary.”
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, almost scolding but kindly so. “We can afford it.”
“Xiongzhang. The house is fine.”
On the other end, Lan Xichen paused. “It is?” he asked then.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. “It has not changed. The years have not touched it.”
Another beat passed, then Lan Xichen said, “No one has been there for years.”
Lan Wangji fell quiet for a moment, hesitating, then he exhaled and said, “There is a man...”