Hi, I love all your fics and adored the one with fem!Wei Wuxian who seems even more of a chaos goblin than her canon counterpart and tries to break apart her engagement to LWJ. Could we see some more of what of what happens after LWJ moves into the Burial Mounds, perhaps how Wen Qing realizes that this man is hopelessly in love with his oblivious fiancee and maybe tries to prod them together (bonus points for LWJ being so obvious Wen Ning, Granny and the rest of the Wens notice XD).
"They need a chaperone."
"They don't need a chaperone."
"They do," Popo insists, watching with enormous eyes as Lan Wangji glides up to Wei Wuxian and offers—for what must be the eleventh time that week—to take over her chores in the vegetable field, presumably so that Wei Wuxian can spend her time improving the wards around the Burial Mounds instead. "Oh, good heavens. I'm nearly eighty years old, and I've never seen a man looking at a maiden like that."
"Be that as it may," Wen Qing says doggedly, "they have no need of a chaperone. Wei Wuxian ended their engagement before she seceded from the Jiang clan, and neither she nor Hanguang-jun chose the betrothal to begin with."
"They don't need a chaperone because Wei-guniang doesn't know that Hanguang-jun is in love with her," Wen Ning mutters, from the grimy depths of the lotus pond at Wen Qing's right. "When Lan-zongzhu visited last week, he told me that Hanguang-jun cried like a baby after Wei-guniang refused to marry him. I think she likes him, too, but she doesn't seem affected at all."
Two tiny fingers pluck at Wen Qing's skirt, and she glances down to find Wen Yuan trying to stand on her shoes, grasping a fold of her gown in one hand and a grubby stuffed tiger in the other.
"What is it, A-Yuan?" she asks. "Are you hungry? Xian-jiejie will feed you in just a little while, so be patient until the congee finishes boiling."
"A-Yuan's not hungry," the little boy says, before putting Hu-shixiong's tail in his mouth. "But, jiejie—Lan-gege loves Xian-jie very much! Gege told A-Yuan!"
At this juncture, Wen Binbin materializes at Wen Qing's right with Uncles Three through Six trailing behind her.
"How long were they engaged, Qingqing?" she asks, in a conspiratorial whisper. "We never heard much news from the other sects in Dafan—but you and A-Ning went to school with them, so you must know something."
Wen Qing sighs.
"A-Xian's parents contracted the betrothal before they passed away," she replies, "but they didn't meet until the year Lan Wangji turned eleven."
Popo clasps her hands in delight. "Were they childhood friends, then?"
"Of a sort," Wen Qing acknowledges, frowning. "I once heard someone say that Hanguang-jun started sewing toy frogs for their future children when he was only a boy, but that can't possibly be true."
She feels another soft tug at her skirt. "Qing-jiejie, A-Yuan wants a frog."
"Hanguang-jun can make you one, Yuan'er. And the part about the frogs is true," A-Ning pipes up, tossing a seed-filled lotus pod to Wen Binbin. "She had one of them with her in the dungeon at Bu Ye Tian when I went to bring medicine to the prisoners during the indoctrination camp."
"Really?" Fourth Uncle gasps. "She carried Hanguang-jun's gifts all the way to Qishan, so that they could comfort her in her time of need?"
"Zewu-jun had better be thinking of a way to have the betrothal reinstated," Wen Qing says, crossing her arms in frustration. "Why did Wei Wuxian break it in the first place? Hanguang-jun would have honored the engagement no matter how the jianghu dared to slander her."
"I suppose that's why," Wen Ning says morosely. "She's afraid that Hanguang-jun will stand by her, no matter what she does—"
"A foolish thing to be frightened of, if you ask me," Wen Binbin mutters. "There are worse things in the world than a devoted husband."
"—and that he might suffer for it. It's difficult to tell, but she loves him just as much as he loves her."
At this, A-Yuan beams like a miniature sun and toddles over to the edge of the pond.
"Really, Ning-shushu?" he asks, enchanted. "Can Jiejie have a wedding?"
"I suppose she can, if Hanguang-jun asks for her hand in marriage again."
Fifth Uncle nods and strokes his chin. "But how can he muster up the courage to ask if Wei-guniang treats him so coldly?"
"I saw her sneaking a second helping of chicken into his porridge the other day," Liu-shu mutters. "If that is a cold woman, Langdan, then I've never met a tender-hearted one."
At this juncture, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji bow to one another and go their separate ways, having reached some kind of agreement about the wards and Wei Wuxian's daily chores. Wei Wuxian gathers up the powdered cinnabar she was sunning and retreats into the cave that serves as her workshop and bedchamber; and Lan Wangji goes off to fetch the laundry from the patch of grass by the potato field, where it had been hung up to dry early that morning.
The Wens disperse as well, not wishing to be caught gossiping in broad daylight by the very subject of their discussion. Popo takes Wen Yuan back to her little house for a bath, dragging A-Ning along with her; and Wen Qing dives into her little infirmary, leaving the door open a crack so that she can eavesdrop on the would-be couple if Lan Wangji seeks A-Xian out again.
And since Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun could not avoid one another if their lives depended on it, Wen Qing overhears them discussing the subject of A-Yuan's education less than a quarter-shichen later.
"After all of this is over, I suspect the Wens will be sent to the Cloud Recesses," Lan Wangji says quietly. "I do not think they would be at ease living in close proximity to Jiang-zongzhu, and Xiongzhang has set aside three living compounds for them close to his Hanshi. What is more, A-Yuan would be allowed all the privileges of an inner disciple if he were educated there—and he would not have to surrender his family name, either."
"You'd take him in as an inner disciple?" Wei Wuxian's voice is both louder and more indistinct than Hanguang-jun's, somehow, floating back to Wen Qing in bits and pieces as if it had passed through a veil of thick fog on the way. "I suppose that's for Popo and the others to decide if Zewu-jun has already made the offer, but what if the other disciples mistreat him? I won't stand for it, Lan Zhan."
"He will be my ward, since his parents have passed on: so that should be sufficient to keep him safe. And if you join the Wens in Gusu, Yuan'er will have your protection as well."
A moment's silence, and then:
"Do you mean to return to Lotus Pier when the Dafan clan is granted amnesty?" Hanguang-jun inquires, sounding positively heartbroken. "I—how will they go on without you, Wei Ying? A-Yuan scarcely leaves your side now that he is beginning to forget the horror of the camps, and Wen Ning—"
"I don't intend to go back to Yunmeng," Wei Wuxian says at length, after a pause that lasted the span of about seven perilously sluggish heartbeats. "My place is with the Wens now, I think. There should be someone at the Cloud Recesses who can guard them night and day, out of love for them and not under orders from you or Lan-zongzhu; so wherever they go, I will follow."
Though Wen Qing cannot see him, the soft, stricken pitch of Hanguang-jun's voice is proof that his heart had come very near to melting.
"En, that is good," he murmurs. "It is settled, then."
And with that, the two of them depart together, their footsteps fading away down the old dirt track that leads to Sishu's favorite apple grove.
They belong together, Wen Qing thinks fondly, before turning towards the heap of dried herbs awaiting her attention on her desk. And I pray that some day soon—Heaven willing—A-Xian will realize it, as well.
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“Your welcome was rather disappointing, Jiang-zongzhu,” Jin Zixun calls mockingly. “Even your husband here failed to make us feel at home.” The obvious baiting is answered with a dangerously still, silent courtyard. Jin Zixun throws a glance at the three cultivators keeping Lan Wangji kneeling, chin tipped in a wordless order.
The blade hooked beneath Lan Wangji’s throat digs deeper, drawing more blood and he knows without looking that the red on the front of his robes is growing. Still no response. Lan Wangji can feel his wife’s presence, along with a handful of other qi signatures he recognizes as Jiang senior disciples. And he prays she doesn’t come out.
Jin Zixun’s grin is feral. “Very well.” But before the blade slides home and ends it all, the doors are flung wide and Jiang Cheng emerges. A silent breath escapes him. He should have known his Wanyin would not stand by. It is not in her nature.
Hair unbound and eyes flickering with Zidian’s energy, she looks like a wrathful goddess of lightning. Even where he’s forced to kneel, Lan Wangji can feel the electricity thrumming through his wrecked meridians, thinned to the point of snapping. Sandu’s naked blade gleams wickedly in one hand. And in the other, she carries their son.
She is not like his mother, bowing her head with furious acceptance of her fate and allowing her sons to be dragged away from her. She is not like her own mother, vicious in her pride and arrogance, blind to the needs of her children.
Jiang Cheng would do the impossible for those she loves. That is her strength.
Lan Wangji knows that there is no safer place for their son than in her arms.
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