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rosethornewrites · 4 years

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fic: remember the moments when we were together

Relationships: Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Memories, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, wwx needs a hug, Regret, Self-Esteem Issues, Loneliness, Crying, Hugs, Truth, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Father-Son Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

AO3 link

Part of the try to praise the mutilated world series

Spectre | leaves eddied over the earth’s scars

Notes: The title is again from the poem "Try to Praise the Mutilated World." I wanted to explore how this would impact SiZhui, who is only just starting to reconnect with his first adopted dad.

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SiZhui feels awkward, standing with trays of food under the magnolia tree behind the jingshi. His father had asked him—almost begged, actually—to have lunch with Senior Wei today. The man wasn’t eating or sleeping well.

‘Grief,’ is all Hanguang-Jun said in explanation.

SiZhui understands grief. He watched his father grieve for 16 years and was blessed to see it end. He himself grieved that same length of time for memories lost to fever and trauma.

It turned out they had been grieving the same person, mostly. Like father, like son.

But now, as he watches Senior Wei sedately pet a rabbit on the porch of the jingshi, his normally sharp eyes distant and red-rimmed, his face pale… SiZhui remembers he’d seen this grief at the Burial Mounds so long ago, as the man had given up his entire world to protect him and the other Wen remnants.

He’s so distracted as to not notice SiZhui’s presence, not even when he calls out.

“Senior Wei?”

SiZhui knows he’s been sitting there, unmoving, for probably the entire morning since Hanguang-Jun left to finish preparations for their journey to Yunmeng. Magnolia petals lay against his robes, contrasting starkly with the black fabric. Enough to account for hours.

He moves closer, repeating the greeting, to no avail.

Surprising Senior Wei is never an excellent idea, would likely result in lunch being all over them. The man has spent too much time despised and fighting to survive, to fail to react if his attention isn’t drawn before SiZhui approaches. Enough of the juniors (including Jin Ling) have learned this by experience. And though the man only moves to defend, never to harm, SiZhui intends for this meal to wind up in their bellies.

“Xian-gege?” he tries, but again meets no response.

SiZhui sighs, not sure how to handle this. He went to Caiyi town for the food, ordering Senior Wei’s favorites, and though the talisman he’s attached will keep it warm, he knows it will taste better fresh. He’s even brewed his favorite spiced tea, the one with cardamom, fennel, ginger, cinnamon, and anise—what most in Gusu and especially Cloud Recesses consider far too piquant. SiZhui himself enjoys it with a little milk.

He takes one step closer, and notices something he didn’t before—Senior Wei has tear tracks on his face.

For a moment he’s seven years old again, peeking from the door of his room in the jingshi late at night, listening to his father play what he would later learn was Inquiry, watching him cry silently.

“A-Die!” wrenches from him before SiZhui can get ahold of himself.

He’s not sure whether the words or the tone do the trick, but Senior Wei jerks and turns to him with wide eyes.

“A-Yuan?”

After a moment, he attempts a smile, but it’s a ghost of what SiZhui knows his smile to be, a mask like the one he wore all those months upon his return, something he hides behind.

SiZhui places his trays on the porch, abandoning them in favor of wrapping his arms securely around the man who started his upbringing.

“I thought I’d have to call you a-Niang to get your attention,” he jokes.

The Yiling marketplace story represents the one time his fathers were together with him as a child, and he hopes to startle a laugh from Senior Wei.

He is disappointed. The smile becomes a shade less forced, but only briefly.

“Sorry, a-Yuan. How long were you calling for me?”

SiZhui reaches up to dab at his cheeks with a sleeve. He wants so badly to address Senior Wei’s behavior, but he doubts he’ll get him to eat if he does.

“Only a couple minutes. I came to eat lunch with you. I even went to Caiyi town for your favorites and brewed your favorite tea.”

He’s unspeakably relieved when he gets a genuine smile from that, even if that smile is still tinged with sorrow.

“Ah, my handsome son is spoiling me so,” Senior Wei teases.

SiZhui laughs and repositions the trays. He pours the tea, then serves him first, then himself, covering the dishes to keep them hot after. Senior Wei’s food is a vibrant red, just the way he likes it, while his own is much blander though still spicier than what is usually preferred in Cloud Recesses.

The movement of chopsticks from plate to mouth is a win, and he doesn’t mind when Senior Wei leans against him slightly, as though taking comfort in his presence. If SiZhui can offer that comfort, he will.

Sitting on the wooden patio, eating in comfortable silence with the man he considers his first father, the man who had been lost to them all for sixteen years, is a comfort to him as well.

SiZhui isn’t quite sure how long he takes to realize the only noise is his own chopsticks against porcelain, but when he realizes he turns to find Senior Wei staring into the distance, a morsel of food suspended between chopsticks halfway to his mouth. His bowl is more than half full still.

“Senior Wei?”

Senior Wei startles, the food slipping through his chopsticks and landing on his robe. He tries to smile again, but SiZhui sees the effort it takes.

“You don’t have to call me so formally,” he finally murmurs, the effort sliding away.

“So I can call you a-Die? Even in front of the other juniors?”

The ghost-smile flits across his face again, and SiZhui wonders if that’s the most he can hope for right now.

“Anytime you like. You can even call me a-Niang if you want.” Senior Wei sighs softly, setting his bowl back on the tray. “I’m sorry you went to such trouble for me, but I’m not very hungry.”

SiZhui has a memory of making a specific face at him as a toddler to get his way. Perhaps it’s Senior Wei’s influence at such a young age, but he’s just shameless enough to school his face into a worried pout.

“I’m worried about you, a-Die.”

He’s horrified when it backfires, and Senior Wei sobs. Where before his tears had been almost disturbingly silent, the raw emotion now is heart-rending.

Immediately he abandons his bowl, not even checking to make sure it stays upright, and pulls him into a hug. Senior Wei doesn’t fight it, just buries his face against SiZhui’s shoulder, shaking.

“I’m here, a-Die. I’m here.”

Senior Wei is murmuring apologies almost immediately, but SiZhui doesn’t dare let him go.

“It’s okay to cry, a-Die. You can cry as much as you need to.”

It was something Father had told him once upon finding him hiding to cry, letting him know that tears were not shameful, and the rule ‘Do not grieve in excess’ did not mean one couldn’t grieve at all. In those days, SiZhui didn’t know what he grieved, but Father had cried with him. It had helped.

“I don’t want to burden you,” Senior Wei whispers.

“You’re not a burden! Not ever. Father and I missed you so much all those years.”

SiZhui is almost afraid to hug him more tightly, he seems so fragile.

“Father played Inquiry all the time,” he tells him, rubbing his back in slow circles. “He never stopped searching for you, even though you didn’t respond.”

From the way Senior Wei stiffens, he wonders if Father never told him that. SiZhui hopes he hasn’t overstepped.

“He never told me that. I never heard it,” Senior Wei finally whispers. “I don’t think I was in any condition to hear it.”

SiZhui feels frozen; there aren’t many reasons a spirit would not hear Inquiry, and one of those is moving on. The others are too horrible to think about. But this is a-Die.

“A-Die… Tell me? Please?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but he can’t try to help if he doesn’t. He will not let ignorance be an excuse, not with a-Die suffering.

Senior Wei is quiet for several minutes before he finally speaks. “A-Yuan, do you know how I died?”

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he answers immediately.

It was taught to all disciples, something he finds horrible now, that duty calls to kill a brother if he turns to evil. Knowing the truth of everything and regaining his memories, SiZhui wanted to be angry at Jiang WanYin. Only the man looked at his once-brother with complicated emotions that included longing. He knows it is not his place to judge.

But Senior Wei shakes his head.

“After shijie… watching the whole cultivation world fight over the pieces of the seal, greedy for power… Everyone was dead, and I thought you were too, and I just didn’t want to exist in this world anymore.”

Senior Wei shudders, seemingly lost in memory.

“A-Yuan, I was a suicide. I threw myself off a cliff at Nightless City.”

SiZhui can’t stifle a gasp. He feels like the earth has opened up under him.

“Lan Zhan tried to stop me, tried to save me, but I didn’t let him. It’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done to him.”

His voice hitches.

“I don’t remember the sixteen years I was dead, but I suspect my soul shattered at my death, so I doubt there’s anything to remember. If Mo XuanYu hadn’t forced my soul back together through the ritual, the pieces likely would have eventually just faded away.”

SiZhui hears a sob, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s come from himself. It was too horrible, that a-Die could have gone forever, that Father would forever be without him even in future lifetimes, and that the cost to prevent that was Mo XuanYu’s soul. The grief he carries is so much more understandable now.

“A-Die, please don’t leave us again,” he whispers.

Senior Wei wipes at SiZhui’s cheeks gently with his sleeve, looking at him with regret. “I didn’t want to come back, at first. But I don’t want to leave now.”

He blurts, “Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” before he can stop himself.

A-Die’s tears overflow again. “My shijie was dead, my nephew orphaned, my fault. My shidi hated me. I failed the Wens. The sects wanted my head on a platter. I thought Lan Zhan despised me, too. I was alone, and the world sucked, and I’d just cause trouble again. Why come back?”

“Father never hated you,” is all SiZhui can think to say in response.

He wants to say more, that a-Die doesn’t cause trouble, that he wasn’t responsible for Jiang YanLi’s death or even Jin ZiXuan’s. There’s so much he wants to say, but words escape him. He knows a-Die still blames himself, and there’s nothing SiZhui can say to change that.

“Ah, a-Yuan. I know that now, but I’m, well, an idiot, so that took a while. But that’s why I ran away from Mo manor, and why I wore that mask. I thought nothing good would come from being recognized.”

SiZhui returns a-Die’s earlier gesture, wiping tears from his cheeks.

“But things are better now, right? Why are you so sad?”

A-Die sighs softly. “Shijie is still gone. Jiang Cheng still hates me. It was so long ago for everyone else, but not for me. For me, it will be her first birthday since her death.”

That a-Die missed sixteen years is an ever-present facet of SiZhui’s life, an absence that spanned most of his life, but sometimes it’s easy to forget the impact on a-Die; he’s only been alive again for less than a year, and much of that time was taken uncovering Jin GuangYao’s crimes and then travelling for a few months alone.

“That’s why you’re going to Lotus Pier,” SiZhui murmurs, realizing. “I’ll come with, a-Die. So you’ll have both Father and me with you.”

He knows a-Die hasn’t visited his home but once since he came back, that there are painful memories he must deal with. He doesn’t want him to face them, not alone. And while he’ll be with Father, SiZhui knows it can help to have more people, especially since a-Die feels Sect Leader Jiang hates him.

“You’re not alone, a-Die. You’re not.”

A-Die gifts him with a smile, a genuine one, and SiZhui lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“A-Yuan, you’re such a good boy.”

They stay like that, a-Die draped across his lap, and SiZhui remembers once, long ago, Aunt Qing telling him Xian-gege missed his sister. He remembers lotus seeds and blossoms, and a-Die barefoot with a smile. The memory is vague, pieced together flashes, but it’s there.

Lotuses had grown in Burial Mounds. Surely they could grow in Cloud Recesses, perhaps in one of the grassy areas behind the jingshi, somewhere a-Die could look and be reminded of his sister, even though she’s gone. While at Lotus Pier, he’ll learn how to grow lotuses. He’ll find out what kind a-Die would like best, even if it means talking to Sect Leader Jiang about it.

SiZhui glances down and finds that a-Die has fallen asleep against him, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual, and he resolves to stay still until Father comes, to let him sleep.

Maybe later, together as a family, they can get a-Die to eat more, help him through his grief, remind him he’s truly not alone.

He won’t ever be alone again.

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan yuan #lan sizhui #lan zhan #lan wangji #cql #mdzs #my fanfiction

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