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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

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After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #10 - pre-fic

[Masterpost]

Anelmemi over on Ao3 commented on chapter 4: “If you’re taking requests or prompts, the line about baby!Lan Zhan with all the intensity of first timeline 30 year old Lan Zhan is an image that stuck with me. The conversation where he tells his mom about everything would make for an interesting extra.”

So here it is! Disclaimer: I’ve gone in a sliiiightly different direction (in that this is 7k words long and they don’t even get to the part where Lan Zhan tells her everything) BUT - that being said - I think I’m going to use this prompt as the first chapter/installment of a selection of scenes from the Wangxian side of the fix-it. Like you know how I said I wrote AEM as a ‘sequel’ to a fix-it fic that doesn’t exist? I’m gonna make the fix-it fic exist, at least in bits and pieces. I guess I already have kind of been doing that with the amount of pre-fic extras I’ve written for this universe, but none of them have been from the Wangxian side of things where the actual fix-it mechanics are happening. Might be time to change that. We’ll see! Either way, here’s some baby-not-actually-baby!Lan Zhan scaring the living hell out of his mom for you <3

----

Lan Zhan opens his eyes with a gasp, the blindingly blue flash of his and Wei Ying’s array gone as suddenly as it had flared. He’s in the dark now, kneeling in the middle of the floor of a room that is definitely not the addition to the Jingshi he had built to be Wei Ying’s workroom. It takes a long moment for his eyes to adjust but when they do he blinks and forces himself to take slow, deep breaths in and out.

He has to stay calm.

They hadn’t been sure if the array would work, or, if it did, exactly what they would be in for.

Getting separated was, unfortunately, a distinct possibility.

It is now his reality.

He has to focus on what he can control or risk sinking into a despair too deep for him to accomplish the task he and Wei Ying have set for themselves, and he will not break a promise to Wei Ying. They have agreed to try again - he will have to try, and trust that he and Wei Ying will not truly have to be separated again in any life.

Lan Zhan stands slowly to take stock of the situation and immediately becomes disoriented when he rises to his feet only to find that everything is in nearly the same spot in his vision it had been while on his knees. He glances down at himself and holds a hand up in the moonlight and…

Ah. Childhood.

That’s...less than ideal.

Of course while writing the array they hadn’t specified a specific time or age to return to (beyond limiting it to their own lifetimes). To be quite honest Lan Zhan hadn’t entirely been able to follow Wei Ying’s logic for most of the components of the array, but he trusted his husband to ensure it wouldn’t kill them or others. Beyond that, their only desire had been a chance to retain their memories and use the wisdom of their years to heal all the rifts they possibly could in their world, to attempt to soothe the pains that they and everyone they love (who is still alive) have all had to learn to live with.

He’s grateful that it worked.

That being said, he doesn’t particularly want to be a child again. He’s awfully short, after all - and Wei Ying isn’t here, which is perhaps the worst offense.

He reaches up to touch his cheek as he feels something drip down it and his small fingers come away wet with tears; he suppresses a sigh as he tries not to continue crying. It would seem that a toddler’s body is a bit too small and immature to hold the weight of the grief he carries with him in the depths of his soul, and he can already tell by the feeling rising in his chest that trying to contain it will be useless. He dusts his knees off as more tears start to drip down his cheeks and then he turns to walk sedately across the room to his little bed. He crawls into it, buries his face in his pillow, and promptly starts sobbing, the way he hasn’t since the first time he was this age.

When A-Yuan had still been a toddler, there had been some (many) who accused Lan Zhan of being too soft on the boy. He had been prone to crying if left to his own devices for too long, and after the third time he heard of it happening while A-Yuan was supposedly in the care of those who watched the rest of the sect children, Lan Zhan had insisted that the boy remain with him in his seclusion if Lan Xichen needed to be relieved from watching him to attend to business. It meant that A-Yuan had grown up with less socialization amongst his peers as a young boy, but his nature was such that the lack could hardly be seen by the time he had grown out of his fears of separation to join the other children in their classes.

It had also meant that when A-Yuan cried, he was never without a comforting hand in his hair or on his back, soothing him, reminding him that he was not alone, that he would never be left alone again. If his son was spoiled then so be it, but Lan Zhan would not allow his and Wei Ying’s child to grow up bowed under the cold austerity of a rule warning against excessive grief taken to its most extreme interpretation and weaponized against the grief-stricken. Lan Zhan is intimately aware of the products of that rule, and it’s one he refused to enforce - a decision he has never regretted.

Tonight, however, there’s no one to do the same for Lan Zhan. No one is here to pet his hair or talk softly to him about how the rabbits are doing, or tell him a story of the sort he used to tell A-Yuan to distract him. Lan Zhan, unlike his son, is used to it, and so he cries until his head hurts and then he bundles himself up in the tightest ball of blankets he can manage to try to sleep and wait for morning. It’s strange, trying to sleep without Wei Ying crowded into his space, breathing steadily against his neck and muttering under his breath in between soft snores. He eventually manages it when the moon slips behind the mountain again and the room is plunged into the soft almost-black blue of false dawn. In the gentle hum of the world dipping into its deepest hush outside his window he manages to let his exhaustion take over long enough to get a couple more hours of rest.

Lan Zhan wakes at five.

The gong rings through the mountain in exactly the way it always has and he opens his itchy, tired eyes to begin dressing and preparing for the day. His hands are clumsier than they ought to be, his grip weaker than he can ever remember it being and his limbs slightly less cooperative than he would prefer. He manages not to get too frustrated by the dissonance of it, though by the time Lan Xichen comes to fetch him he’s wearing a truly impressive pout (for him) and he watches, disgruntled, as his brother stifles a laugh behind his sleeve.

“Good morning didi,” Lan Xichen greets when he’s done silently laughing at him and Lan Zhan watches in fascination as his brother - still just a child himself, of course - glances both ways up and down the hallway with a mischievous little smile before dropping to one knee and holding his arms out to him. “You look like you had a bad night. Do you want a hug?”

Lan Zhan’s pouting lower lip trembles as he nods and steps forward slowly to tuck himself into Lan Xichen’s chest.

He honestly can’t remember the last time someone besides Wei Ying hugged him (he supposes it must have been A-Yuan, back before he had grown too old to ask for them anymore), but as Lan Xichen wraps him in his arms it feels so entirely natural that he practically melts, going boneless and rubbing his face into the heavy silk on Lan Xichen’s narrow shoulder like a cat seeking affection. Lan Xichen huffs a soft chuckle and squeezes him a little tighter; Lan Zhan wouldn’t be perfectly happy staying like this forever (he misses Wei Ying, and this isn’t helping them find each other again), but he would be perfectly content to stay there for a few days at least, just being held and cared for by his brother while he’s still small enough to reasonably get away with it.

Of course the list of people that Lan Zhan would tolerate such affection from - at any age - is extremely small, limited only to his immediate family - Wei Ying, A-Yuan, Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren (should he ever be the type to offer it). But as Lan Xichen releases him and reaches down to take his hand, as he leads him out of the children’s dormitories and onto the path outside, Lan Zhan realizes that there’s one person he hadn’t even considered as an option but who, especially in his current state, certainly tops the list.

“Mother,” he whispers with tears in his eyes as Madam Lan stands in the open door to the Jingshi, the familiar home still hers.

“Didi?” Lan Xichen asks, startled, as Lan Zhan pulls his hand from his but he doesn’t stop to answer - instead he runs across the courtyard as quickly as his legs can carry him and up the steps to fling himself into his mother’s arms. He likes to imagine that if he were physically the correct age he would be more composed, but he can’t say with complete certainty that that would be the case. His mother has always been special like that. She was the first to ever make him believe that he could be loved and accepted if he revealed the true depth of his feelings - no one else had been able to make him feel that way after her death until Wei Ying.

As it is, though, as young as he is - with all the tumultuous, too-large feelings of childhood despite the age of his soul - he promptly starts crying as he clings to her. Her hands are soft and gentle as she pets his hair and rubs his back precisely as he had done for A-Yuan as a boy, and Lan Zhan hiccups as he presses in closer.

“Zhan-er,” she says warmly above his head and all it does is make him cry a little harder, the tenderness of the greeting and the fact that he hasn’t heard it from a single soul in 32 years hitting him too hard for his little body to handle. “Oh dear,” she says next and he can hear her smiling, he can feel the way she’s suppressing a laugh in the slight shaking of her shoulder under his cheek and he clings.

“I think he had a nightmare last night,” Lan Xichen supplies apologetically as he approaches at the properly sedate pace.

“A good thing it’s your day to come visit, then,” she replies softly, implacably, and Lan Zhan nods his agreement as he hiccups and tries to compose himself with little success. “Come in, Huan-er, I’ve got breakfast for us. Let’s see if we can cheer your brother up together, hm?”

Lan Zhan’s stomach swoops as he’s scooped up while Madam Lan stands and he lets himself be carried into the house. He finally manages to get himself somewhat under control after a while of sitting in his mother’s lap and letting her dry his cheeks with her sleeves, but he’s still hiccuping and crying fresh tears every now and then.

He can’t help but stare. It’s been so long since he’s seen her face, and she’s just as beautiful as he remembers, maybe even more so. She’s serene and gentle in a way he really never sees in anyone but perhaps Lan Xichen. Even A-Yuan, as sweet as he is, still carries the mischievous streak planted in him by Wei Wuxian and encouraged by a lifetime of friendship with Lan Jingyi. Whatever she’s done in the past, no matter what anyone else thinks of the incident that had led to her imprisonment, the woman she is now is so kind, so tender, that Lan Zhan has never once in his life understood the continuation of her imprisonment for so many years.

He watches with wide, solemn eyes as she steadily wipes his cheeks clean when fresh tears replace those that have already fallen, a perpetual little smile on her lips as she talks to Lan Xichen over his head to make sure they both get as much of her attention as they can in their limited time with her.

He eventually manages to stop crying entirely and he’s promptly plied with a bowl of rice for breakfast, which he obediently eats, his eyes still on Madam Lan. He doesn’t want to ever stop looking at her. He had never gotten to say a proper goodbye, had never gotten the closure he needed after her death (not that closure would have helped, most likely. If he’s proven anything to himself it’s that the death of those he loves is not something he handles all that well.)

The point is - his mother was ripped away from him with no warning, and now she’s been returned to him and he will never in this new life take her presence for granted.

As the day goes on and he settles, he can’t shake a feeling of deja vu. It isn’t until they’re nearly ready to leave for the evening that it strikes him.

This is their last day with her. He knows this day, when he had been younger he had replayed the events of it over and over in his mind, searching for something in his behavior that had upset Madam Lan to the point where she didn’t want to see him again. Before he had understood that she had died he had been so sure that it was his fault the door wouldn’t open anymore, that she was inside languishing in disappointment in her youngest son.

And so when Lan Xichen makes as if to bundle him off into the evening just after supper, Lan Zhan takes a page from A-Yuan’s book and sits down to lock his arms around her leg, every ounce of his considerable determination set in stern lines in his serious little face.

“Didi, we have to leave,” Lan Xichen prods - gently - as he kneels in front of him.

“No,” he protests, his voice petulant but he doesn’t care. He’s not letting her go. He’s here to fix things on a much larger scale than anyone around him can yet understand, but he’s going to begin with their mother. They will get to grow up with a mother this time, and a father too if he has anything to say about it. He can fix things for their family first and let the effect spread outwards from Cloud Recesses. A stone dropped into the center of a pool will create ripples that reach all the way to the edges, and if he begins with Madam Lan’s survival and perhaps her return to the world from her isolation, there’s no telling just yet how far such an influence will spread.

Even if it goes no further than their little family, he doesn’t care. He can fix this, so he will.

“A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen tries next, reaching out to tug gently on his sleeve and he holds on tighter, buries his face in the skirts of Madam Lan’s robes.

“No!”

“It’s alright, Huan-er,” Madam Lan soothes as she drops a hand down to rest on top of his head. “Go on ahead, I’ll make sure Zhan-er gets returned to his rooms in time for curfew.”

Lan Zhan turns his head enough to open one eye so he can watch Lan Xichen have a bit of an internal debate before he nods and straightens up to accept one last hug before he turns to leave. The pair of them, Madam Lan and Lan Zhan, stay still and watch him until he disappears down the path and only then does Madam Lan bend down to put her hands under his arms and lift him up onto her hip. She offers him an indulgent look as she leans in to press their foreheads together and he relaxes instantly.

“Zhan-er, what’s gotten into you today, hm?” she asks softly as she shuts the door with her foot to carry him back inside, sitting down on the edge of her bed to set him down on her knees. It should feel strange, he supposes, to be treated like a child like this, picked up and carried around wherever someone else wants to take him. But he’s never known anything else in regards to his mother, he’s never gotten a chance to both be older than a toddler and to know her. In his memories, this is how he remembers her, and so it doesn’t feel strange at all to sit in her lap and study her face like he’s doing his best to memorize it.

“What’s wrong, Zhan-er?” she asks again, even more softly, as she brushes a few stray hairs back from his forehead and runs her thumb along the silk of his ribbon - it must be brand new for him at this age.

“You are going to die,” he says, deciding then and there that he doesn’t have the luxury of trying to find a way to fix things on his own while trying to hide that he’s really a fully-grown man with a husband and child of his own, that he carries a full life’s worth of pain and experiences. He and Wei Ying had agreed that no matter what happened with the array they wouldn’t tell anyone what they had done - it would defeat the purpose of fixing things, and there was also no guarantee that it wouldn’t do harm. In any other circumstance he would agree it’s better to be safe than sorry, but he’s so young - there’s not much he can do but talk to Madam Lan directly and allow her to handle the situation in his stead - or at least help him - without blowing his cover.

Madam Lan blinks down at him for a moment, a small furrow between her brows. How had he never noticed as a child that she doesn’t wear a headband?

“Who told you such a silly thing?” she asks with a hint of a smile and a little tap of her fingertip against the tip of his nose. “Is that what your nightmare was last night?”

“Mother,” he says as seriously as he can manage. (It’s very difficult to sound grave, he realizes, when he’s a literal 5-year-old [he even still has a bit of a childish lisp] but he needs her to understand.) “I have lived this before. This is the last day you will see Xiongzhang and myself. You are going to die. No one has ever told me how.”

Madam Lan blanches at that, though whether it’s because of what he said or because her 5-year-old son is speaking like an adult or a combination of both he isn’t sure.

“Zhan-er, what...what are you talking about?”

He takes a deep breath in and clambers down off her lap to straighten his robes and dust himself off before he offers her a deep bow.

“Mother, please listen to me and trust what I say. I am your son, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, current Chief Cultivator. I have already lived this life, and have returned to my childhood through the power of an experimental array I created with my husband, Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian of Yunmeng Jiang.”

“Zhan-er,” Madam Lan gasps and he looks up to find her definitely far too pale as he blinks owlishly up at her.

“If I leave tonight without warning you of danger, I fear this will once again be my last memory of you.”

The fear in her eyes makes him feel a bit like squirming with guilt for putting it there, but he holds himself still, watching for a sign that she believes him, that she’s taking him seriously. He knows what he must look like - if A-Yuan had ever suddenly started behaving like he is now he would have been very concerned that he had been possessed. Judging by the look on Madam Lan’s face, it’s entirely possible that that’s exactly what’s on her mind.

“Mother, please, you must believe me. Wei Ying and I wish to right the wrongs done to those around us, to live with no regrets. We have made many painful choices in our lives, as have all of those we care for. We have decided to attempt the impossible and rewrite the past.”

“You..But you....”

Lan Zhan stays still and watches as Madam Lan clearly tries to piece things together. He’s dismayed - though not entirely surprised - when she faints backwards onto the bed, but he supposes it’s better than if she had outright tried to say that he couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. He climbs up onto the bed to sit beside her and make sure she’s otherwise alright before he settles down to wait patiently for her to wake.

It doesn’t take too long, thankfully, and he can’t help but reach out to put the back of one small hand against her forehead to check her temperature when she blinks her eyes open.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as he watches her face go through a series of interesting emotions in quick succession.

She sits up slowly to look down at him with an expression that seems to have settled on something like incredulity and bemusement. “I think you must see why that question is not easily answered at the moment.”

“Mn. It is a strange situation, I understand,” he agrees solemnly with a nod. Madam Lan raises her sleeve to cover her mouth as she bites back a laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Oh Zhan-er,” she says - and then she’s laughing, truly laughing, one hand over her mouth and the other arm curled around her stomach as she laughs in a way that sounds just this side of manic. Years of being married to Wei Ying and he still doesn’t understand how to handle people who deal with their stress by laughing about it.

“Mother?”

“Oh dear, Zhan-er I’m sorry,” she laughs weakly as she wipes at her eyes. “This is just..Well as you said, this is very strange. And you’ve always been a serious child but this is..I’ve never seen a child behave this way!”

“I am 37.”

“Oh dear. Much too old for hugs, then,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes and Lan Zhan has to think about it for a long, dismayed moment before he realizes he’s being teased. He shakes his head ‘no’ and lets her pull him into her arms again to cradle him close, one arm wrapped around his back and the other over his bent knees to hold him in place. “37, hm?” she asks once they’re settled and Lan Zhan nods. “And married?”

“Yes, mother. I also have a son. He is 24.”

“My own baby, married and with a child, hm? And you said Chief Cultivator?”

“Mn. I do not enjoy such a public position but it is necessary.”

Madam Lan laughs at that, though it’s thankfully less frightening than her laughter at the situation as a whole had been. “I have never heard of such a thing but I can only imagine such a position involves quite a lot of talking to other Sect Leaders, which sounds very unpleasant.”

“Mn.”

They’re both quiet for a few long moments, lost in thought. Lan Zhan is only grateful that Madam Lan seems to believe him, and when she breaks the silence again it becomes clear that that is actually the case.

“You said I am going to die soon,” she murmurs and Lan Zhan can’t resist cuddling closer as the pain of losing her flares too hot, too sharp through him.

“I remember this day,” he replies after a few deep breaths and a chance to gather his thoughts. “It is the last day we were allowed to visit. I do not know when, precisely, you passed away, but by the next appointment we were no longer allowed to visit, and...when I came to kneel anyway every month after, your door never opened for me.”

“And you are telling me all of this now to prevent it happening again.”

“Mm. Wei Ying and I performed the spell last night, I am still becoming accustomed to being a child again. I apologize for my outbursts, it is..difficult to control my emotions while so young.”

“Zhan-er, you never have to apologize to me for your feelings,” Madam Lan chastises gently. “No matter your age. I have never wanted you and Huan-er to be raised so..rigidly.”

“Who is keeping you imprisoned?” Lan Zhan asks softly - a question that’s been on his mind since he had been this age originally, and which no one has ever sufficiently answered for him. “Xiongzhang and I always wished we could be raised by you.”

Madam Lan sighs heavily at that and holds him a little tighter. “Qiren is so strict with you two,” she murmurs thoughtfully. “I’ve tried telling your father that you two are growing up to be so serious, so unhappy, but he won’t hear of it. He’s technically the one keeping me here, though I suspect it’s the clan elders speaking through him.”

Lan Zhan can’t help but glare at the wall when the elders are mentioned. The only other person in the world he wishes to argue with as much as he does the elders is Jiang Wanyin.

“I will fix it,” he vows with grim determination.

“Zhan-er,” Madam Lan instantly chastises and he shakes his head, already intent on arguing whatever point she feels needs to be made.

“I will not lose my mother again. The elders have gone too long without challenge. There are many many good things about the Lan that do not need to change, but there are a great many traditions that have become harmful in their execution at least, if not in nature or original intent. I will fix it.”

“You deserve to have a childhood,” Madam Lan argues right back, equally adamant. “It is your father’s duty to lead the Sect, the elders only advise.”

“Uncle is the acting leader of the Sect,” Lan Zhan retorts with a deepening of his frown, this time in confusion. He leans back to look up at Madam Lan, who’s blinking down at him in something like surprise, if a bit muted. “Father is in seclusion, he never again ran the Sect before his death during my boyhood.”

Lan Zhan stays quiet as he watches Madam Lan think through that, wondering just what exactly she’s thinking. Perhaps comparing what she thought she knew to this new information?

It seems that may be the case when she quietly murmurs,“Well that..that does change a few things,” after a long while, her eyes distant. “Maybe we should compromise. You can tell me what you know, and perhaps what you plan to do in regards to the elders, and I will do my best to listen and perhaps together we can come up with something that will work. Does that sound alright?”

Compromise. Lan Zhan hates compromise, has hated it with a passion since the day he watched the Sect Leaders of his youth decide that ‘compromise’ meant ‘kill Wei Wuxian’, and he definitely hasn’t grown any fonder of it since it’s become his turn to ‘compromise’ with many of those same Sect Leaders on a near daily basis as the Chief Cultivator. But these are, he will admit, wildly different circumstances, and for a much better purpose than yet another boundary dispute or arguing over who should receive more disciples from the local families.

He nods and opens his mouth to begin the story at the beginning - and yawns so widely his jaw gives a tiny little pop.

“Oh dear,” Madam Lan chuckles as she snuggles him tighter and rocks him slightly back and forth. It’s shocking how heavy his eyelids feel all of the sudden as she does so and he huffs a sigh with an accompanying pout, irritated with his young body that apparently tires far too quickly. “I believe our plan shall have to wait until morning. You’ve had a long day.”

“Being a child is frustrating,” he confesses and Madam Lan laughs her bright, bell-like laugh - hearing it has always been one of his most treasured memories and to hear it now again in the flesh makes him so happy his irritation with his youthful limitations dissipates in an instant.

“I would imagine so. What an interesting puzzle you are, my Zhan-er,” she sighs as she continues rocking him gently, the repetitive swaying motion dragging his eyelids further and further down despite his best attempts to stay awake. “Such an old soul in the body of a child. So wise and self-assured like an adult, and yet quick to fluster, quick to cry, just like a child. I can only imagine how frustrated you must be.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan manages to hum even as he slips further down into her lap to rest his head in the crook of her elbow, getting comfortable.

“Go to sleep, Zhan-er. We’ll figure this out in the morning, alright? You’re not going to lose me again, I’m here.”

Lan Zhan drifts off to sleep in his mother’s arms for the first time in his life that he can remember, and it’s mercifully deep and dreamless.

----

When Lan Zhan wakes in the morning it’s with a gasp and the vague fear that his mother has, despite his best intentions, died inexplicably once again in the middle of the night. He sits up quickly and looks around the Jingshi just as the gong tolls and he only relaxes when he realizes that she had made him a little nest of blankets to rest in on the outer edge of the bed while she had taken the inside beneath the window.

He clambers down out of bed to go about getting ready for the day. He locates his ribbon where Madam Lan had removed it for him and carefully coiled it into a neat loop; he’s moments away from putting it on before he sets it down again to wait. Wei Ying likes to put it on for him these days - or rather, he supposes, in the future (this is going to give him a headache) - and while Wei Ying can’t do it for him right now, he feels it would be equally as special to ask his mother to help him with it instead.

He explores the Jingshi, acquainting himself with how Madam Lan organizes the familiar space. He finds basic food stored near the small hearth the house had contained before he had modified it himself to accommodate cooking for A-Yuan as a boy, and he takes a moment to set out what they’ll need for breakfast before he withdraws again to meditate. Perhaps, he supposes, if he can center himself and calm his energy he’ll be able to avoid further emotional outbursts. If he’s going to tell his mother all the details of his first life while so emotionally volatile, it’s going to be a very long day indeed. He’ll appreciate beginning it more at peace than he had begun the day before.

He settles into the familiar pattern of breathing and being, just..existing, doing his best to feel and let go, to accept that this is his reality now. He’s starting his life over. He can try again. He can not only avert the broad tragedies that had affected the world at large, he can also repair his own life.

The most obvious personal change will be that he can openly love Wei Ying from the moment they see each other again. He can live an entire lifetime with his beloved at his side, his other half, the bright sun to his distant moon.

Perhaps less obvious of a consequence but one that he suddenly realizes he wants just as badly - he can be closer to his family. Raising A-Yuan had taught him much about the sort of family he wanted to have. The closeness, the affection, the warmth present in their home even when he had been outwardly as cool and aloof as ever. He had never let A-Yuan believe for a moment that he wasn’t adored, he had taught him how to see Lan Zhan’s love for him, had taught him that it was boundless, had taught him to turn that love outwards in a way that Lan Zhan had never been allowed to. He had raised their son to be sweet and kind to everyone he met, Wei Ying had taught him to smile and laugh and to understand so he could forgive.

He can do that again, but this time he’ll start with the members of his family he had been too late to understand the first time. He can help guide Lan Xichen through the confusing mires of childhood, attempt to create an even closer relationship between them than in their first life - a relationship in which they’re free to just be brothers and Lan Xichen doesn’t have the weight of being his Sect Leader on his shoulders as well. He can ensure that they get to grow up with a mother to guide them, her gentle affection thawing the cold austerity the Lan push their children into. He can save Father, he can keep Uncle from becoming bitter and overly rigid in his ways. There’s so much time stretching out ahead of them, he’s sure he can repair their fractured little family and help nurture it into something beautiful.

“Zhan-er?” Madam Lan calls some time later and Lan Zhan opens his eyes to find her already ready for the day with his ribbon in her hands, her expression a question.

“My hands are still clumsy with childhood,” he replies solemnly, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Will you tie it for me?”

“Of course,” she agrees with a faint hint of a smile. “May I assume you’re still an adult in there?” she teases gently as she knees behind him to start threading the ribbon through his simple hairstyle and tie it securely.

“Mn. I am making plans.”

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

Lan Zhan hums his acknowledgement just as she finishes tying his ribbon and he can’t help but relax when she puts her hands on his shoulders to smooth out the fabric of his little robes and sweep his hair properly behind his neck. They’re interrupted by a sudden knock at the door and Lan Zhan frowns, though Madam Lan doesn’t seem surprised at all. Rather she stands and crosses the house with graceful steps and after a moment Lan Zhan stands to drift after her silently.

“Lan Qiren,” she greets with ice in her voice as soon as the door opens and Lan Zhan blinks in surprise. Uncle? He had always thought that Lan Qiren never approached the Jingshi while it was still Madam Lan’s residence - he and Lan Xichen had been making the journey to it from the dormitories unaccompanied since the visits began, and he supposes now that he had just..never bothered to wonder who else came to see Madam Lan besides them and the servants who tended to her. She doesn’t sound surprised, though, to have Lan Qiren on her doorstep, so it must not have been entirely outside the realm of possibility.

“Wen Yun.”

Wen Yun? Wen?

Lan Zhan feels like he just got hit with a hammer between the eyes.

He had never known his mother’s name. Perhaps most people would find that strange, but Lan Zhan had never truly questioned it (beyond wishing that he did know it). She was a criminal in the eyes of the Lan Sect after all; certainly no one had ever thought to tell him her given name when he had been a child, and by the time he was old enough to know he hadn’t known who or how to ask. She wasn’t even in the clan records - or in the ancestral shrine - as anything but Madam Lan, reduced to nothing more than her married title that she hadn’t even wanted. The disrespect of it still rankles him to this day. But..

Wen Yun. She’s a Wen. He is a Wen, certainly by blood if never knowingly by name. That’s..an interesting thing to process. Even more interesting that Lan Qiren has known, all this time, and had never breathed a word of it to anyone that Lan Zhan was aware of, even before the Wens’ destruction during the Sunshot Campaign. He hadn’t expected to be quite so caught off guard by anything he could learn by returning to his childhood, considering he had already lived it once, but clearly he’s going to need to rethink that very quickly.

“Wangji.” Lan Qiren’s voice is sharp, remonstrative, and Lan Zhan instantly focuses on the present again. He can’t, under any circumstances, let Lan Qiren know that he is who he is, but he also can’t help but feel an all-too-familiar surge of (perhaps slightly petty) rebellion in his chest at that tone of voice, at being scolded like the young child he outwardly appears to be. He looks up at Lan Qiren impassively, his face solemn, as he holds his hand up for Madam Lan to take. As he is intimately aware, there’s no time like the present to begin changing things for the better.

Madam Lan slips her hand into his instantly, giving his fingers a little squeeze, and Lan Zhan sets his jaw stubbornly. He’s got an ally in her, and he’s nearly forty years old. He can face down Lan Qiren, he’s done it plenty of times already for what he thinks is right.

“Wangji, let go. Your time to visit your mother is long over.”

Lan Zhan watches Lan Qiren’s anger with a detached sort of interest, tipping his head slightly to the side and shuffling closer to Madam Lan’s skirts as if to hide in them, though of course he isn’t in the least afraid.

“Staying,” he announces with all the gravity he can muster. He really wishes in that moment that he could sound at least somewhat closer to his actual age rather than having to do his best with the sweet, high voice of childhood, but oh well. It still clearly startles Lan Qiren, that he would talk back, and Lan Wangji meets his gaze evenly.

“Wangji!”

“I will be raising my son from now on,” Madam Lan suddenly declares. “Huan-er as well, if he wants me to.”

Lan Qiren splutters in a way that Lan Zhan finds...kind of funny, actually. He’s only ever known Lan Qiren as stoic (with a small range of other emotions couched within that stoicism) or angry, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so...gobsmacked.

“You - the elders -“

“Oh, I didn’t realize the elders had taken over raising them,” Madam Lan replies with ‘innocent’ curiosity. “I was under the impression that they were still your responsibility, Qiren, and that concerns about their upbringing should be brought to your feet.”

Lan Qiren huffs out a frustrated sigh and Lan Zhan tips his head to the other side as he watches, able to study Lan Qiren with all the experience of a full life spent as his ward.

He knows, of course, that Lan Qiren loves him and Lan Xichen as if they’re his own children, and that that affection started when they were handed off to him as mere infants, just old enough to leave the wet nurses. By this point in time, Lan Qiren has had five years to raise Lan Wangji and eight for Lan Xichen - that affection for them is clearly already firmly in place. After all, it’s Lan Qiren who had held them when they were too young to walk on their own yet, who had rocked them to sleep and taught them their first lessons - how to talk, how to eat, how to read, how to count.

But Lan Zhan also knows that Lan Qiren is already a much stricter hand than they really need. He’s spent a lot of time meditating on the peculiarities Lan Qiren had possessed as a parental figure, and while he still can’t conclusively point to the root of his behaviors, he already knows how it will end if allowed to continue - with Lan Zhan himself cold and rigid but for a small handful of people whom he still struggles to show outward affection towards, and with Lan Xichen pouring kindness and gentleness out onto others to soften the blows of the world until he’s left with none to offer himself.

Lan Zhan knows Lan Qiren loves them, but he also knows that that love could be shown in much healthier ways if they’re all allowed to recover.

“The elders won’t ever allow this,” Lan Qiren finally snaps, his eyes flickering briefly down to Lan Zhan and then back up to Madam Lan. “And I won’t plead your case.”

“Oh,” she says idly. “Well that’s a shame, then, I would have appreciated the support.” Lan Zhan looks up as his mother looks down at him and he can’t help but feel safe as she offers him a quick wink, out of Lan Qiren’s view. “I guess Zhan-er and I will have to make our case to the elders ourselves.”

Lan Zhan nods once at that and squeezes her hand to let her know it’s alright with him and Ford into his plans.

“Wangji?” Lan Qiren prompts and Lan Zhan looks up at him, reads the fear behind the indignation, the hurt feelings behind his censure. But with the foresight that Lan Zhan has, he trusts that if they change this, if they give his mother a reason to live again, that everyone in their family will be better for it. Happier.

A little pain is necessary for growth and change - an old tree must fall to allow the new to grow, the winter snows have to come and melt away again to refresh and awaken the world properly in the spring.

Lan Zhan lets go of Madam Lan’s hand to step forward and wrap his arms around Lan Qiren’s leg, holding onto him tightly and hugging him with all the strength and affection he can muster for the man for a long moment - a goodbye to the man who had raised him, who will soon become a different man than Lan Zhan knows - before he lets go again to take his mother’s hand and lead her back into the Jingshi.

She shuts the door gently with Lan Qiren standing shocked on the other side of it.

They have plans to make, and time is of the essence.

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Wangji #Lan Xichen #Madam Lan #Lan Qiren #if you want a giggle read Lan Zhan's 'I'm 37' line in the same tone of voice as that guy in the vine who says 'I'm 27? :D"#also - if I do end up turning this into a fic I don't think I'll be able to do a multichaptered straight narrative fic like AEM #it takes a lot of time and energy which I'm currently putting into my modern 3zun AU and my next planned full fic is actually the sequel to #my fic 'You Need Tending' - the wangxian children fix-it #BUT - it would be something like a chronological series of scenes that are more or less a cohesive timeline from the time wangxian are 5 #up to the 'present day' - as in up to the time when they're 37 and AEM begins #siiiiiiiiiiiigh adding it to my list of wiiiiiiips lol #we shall see we shall see #prompt fill

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