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Lan Wangji is currently having the best day of his life.
He is walking at a pace a little too fast to be considered sedate through the Cloud Recesses. Wei Ying is walking next to him, almost skipping. They are holding hands, and this is not improper because Wei Ying likes him back. Wei Ying wants to marry him. Him! Lan Wangji! This day could not possibly be happier, except of course for the day they get married, and every day after that in which Lan Wangji remains married to Wei Ying. There is no way this day could be ruined.
Then the day is ruined.
Lan Wangji finds his uncle headed to lunch, just as he expected. Lan Qiren stops when he sees his nephew, and his brows draw together when he notices them holding hands.
“Uncle.” Lan Wangji finally lets go of Wei Ying’s hand to greet his uncle properly. He is nearly giddy with happiness, and he is too happy to care if it shows. “I wish to marry Wei Ying.”
Lan Qiren continues frowning. Looks at him. Looks at Wei Ying, who is smiling brighter than the sun, frowns harder, and finally looks back at his earnest, hopeful, soon-to-be heartbroken nephew. “No.”
“Please tell me that you’re not here to defend your uncle,” Jiang Cheng says, when Lan Xichen enters the room.
He’s pacing back and forth in one of the many rooms of Lotus Pier, gesticulating wildly at the walls while his sister calmly sips tea on the couch and watches. Jiang Cheng isn’t fooled, though. He knows Jiang Yanli is just as furious as him, only she shows it almost never. If she was anything less than furious, she’d be telling him to calm down, instead of just watching him rant calmly.
Jiang Yanli puts her teacup down. “Welcome, Young Master Lan,” she says politely. “I presume you are here to discuss…our brothers?”
Lan Xichen manages a tired smile and inclines his head. “Lady Jiang.” He turns to greet Jiang Cheng, who’s still glaring at him. “Young Master Jiang.”
“Is that a yes?” Jiang Cheng demands. If Lan Xichen agrees with his uncle, then the First Jade is about to get kicked out of Lotus Pier so hard he’ll feel it for days.
Lan Xichen doesn’t answer the question, he just bows again. “I’m afraid I have spent several days trying to convince my brother to not elope.”
“Zewu-jun,” Jiang Cheng says sharply. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“The Lans speak with one voice and one mind,” Lan Xichen says impassively.
Jiang Cheng can feel his hand tightening into a fist. “If you think I’ll tolerate–”
“Jiang Wanyin, please,” Lan Xichen interrupts. He looks incredibly tired, but Jiang Cheng refuses to feel sympathy. If he wanted sympathy from Jiang Cheng, he shouldn’t have made his brother cry. Or his uncle shouldn’t have. Big difference. “It has been a trying week.”
“It is impolite to disagree with one’s elders,” Jiang Yanli murmurs into her teacup, having caught on to what Lan Xichen isn’t saying.
Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes, but reigns himself in to take a seat next to Jiang Yanli, who offers Lan Xichen refreshments. Jiang Cheng reaches for his own teacup and downs it like a shot.
“If Young Master Lan were to engage us in mere speculation,” Jiang Yanli begins, still smiling.
Lan Xichen turns a grateful smile on her. “Of course, Lady Jiang.”
“As to how to get your uncle–” Jiang Cheng continues furiously, having caught the conversational tiger by the tail.
“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli cuts him off.
Jiang Cheng subsides in his seat, still a moment away from growling.
“So do you have any ideas?” Lan Xichen asks, almost desperately.
“Has Young Master Lan considered that A-Xian is our Head Disciple, and well-loved by our junior disciples?” Jiang Yanli says.
Lan Xichen’s polite smile gives way to polite confusion. “Ah…I know that the younger Lan disciples greatly appreciated him, for the few lessons he taught.” It’s clear he doesn’t understand why this is relevant.
Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli share a look. It occurs to Jiang Cheng that Lan Xichen never grew up with Wei Wuxian, and is an all-around good Lan, which means he’s never tried to pull a prank before, or gotten up to mischief of any sort, and certainly never tried to arrange a Plot.
Do they have ideas.
It’s impossible to miss the tension at the next conference.
It’s easy enough to pretend you don’t see it, though, and that’s exactly what Sect Leader Jiang and Acting Sect Leader Lan are pretending to do. Normally, Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren are allies at discussion conferences. Of the five great sect leaders, they are the most calm and reasonable. Jin Guangshan is known to be a coward and a pushover, Nie Mingjue is aggressive and permanently angry about the unrighteous state of the cultivation world, and Wen Ruohan is a sinister bastard who speaks up whenever he thinks he’ll do the most damage.
Today, however, Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren sit next to each other at their separate tables and most decidedly do not get along.
“I do not believe a trade partnership to be mutually beneficial at this time,” Jiang Fengmian is saying calmly, like this isn’t a direct contradiction of what he said a few months ago.
Lan Qiren frowns. It isn’t like Jiang Fengmian to go back on his word. “We have an excess supply of medicinal herbs, and Yunmeng produces the finest silks,” he points out, since that was the original base of their cautious proposal. “Our sects could both benefit from the other.”
Jiang Fengmian inclines his head. “I’m afraid our finest silk producer has nothing but red silk to offer at this time, and I understand that Gusu will not be in need of wedding robes any time soon.”
Lan Qiren strokes his beard furiously. “I value the well-being of my nephews above a trade deal.”
“Hm.” Jiang Fengmian sets his teacup down. He still wears a gentle smile, but his steel gray eyes say die. “I, too, value the well-being of my sons over baseless clout.” He takes another sip of tea before continuing. “I find I have little respect for men who value reputation over honesty.”
Lan Qiren’s nose twitches. He forces himself to drink from his tea before responding, likely so that his response is not incoherent screaming. “It is not like you to be this petty, Sect Leader Jiang.”
Jiang Fengmian merely smiles again. “It is unlike you to value appearances over virtue, Acting Sect Leader Lan.”
“Hmph.” Lan Qiren sets his teacup down, and they sit in frosty silence.
The sect leaders sit in one of QingheNie’s massive stone halls, overlooking an even more massive training field. The most promising junior disciples of each sect are there, competing in a tournament. All the great sects have roughly the same number of junior disciples remaining, having gone through the other sects, steadily eliminating their disciples until only the top disciples remain. Even QishanWen has roughly the same number remaining, despite losing three times the number of disciples in the earlier rounds, because what they lack in strength they make up for in numbers.
LanlingJin takes a similar approach, which has earned them a spot with the other great sects in this tournament, until now, when they face off against the QingheNie disciples. QingheNie has far less junior disciples than the other great sects, but their disciples tend to be objectively better fighters. Their additional inspiration/source of terror sits in the back: Sect Leader Nie, sitting at the head of the great stone hall, a (not always) silent reminder to the Nie disciples to bring honor to their sect in their own halls.
Never has this difference been clearer than now, when the Jin disciples get slowly eliminated by QingheNie’s screaming children, until only a handful remain. It isn’t until there are only two Jin disciples remaining–the heir, Jin Zixuan, and Luo Qingyang–that the round is called to an end. It is widely-known, though never acknowledged, that Jin Zixuan inherited his cultivation skill from his mother, Madame Jin.
But what draws Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren’s interest is the matches between the Jiang and Lan disciples on the left side of the training grounds. While Jiang disciples are also known to be aggressive, they usually fight with more of an offensive, elegant grace, compared to the blunt force of Nie disciples. Today, however, they are driven by an unseen rage. There’s no screaming involved, unlike the Nies, but they fight like unleashed beasts against the poor, unsuspecting Lans. The Jiangs, Lans and Nies have already made short work of the Wen disciples; there’s not a single junior Wen disciple left. But the Jiangs did not have this same energy which they now bring full force against the Lans. The Lan disciples remain steady, but one by one they fall before coldly furious Jiang disciples. It doesn’t help to see your fellow Lan disciple being beaten into the dirt by yet another Jiang.
“Wait,” Lan Qiren says, leaning forward, “what did he just do? Surely that’s against the rules.” He points at a match far down the line.
Jiang Fengmian follows his finger and smiles proudly. “It is not. But it is quite innovative, is it not? It is a technique developed by our Head Disciple.”
Lan Qiren flushes in his spot, retracting his finger as his Lan disciple is half-carried, half-staggers off the field.
“I find that fortune often rewards those who dare to push the boundaries of knowledge,” Jiang Fengmian says, solemnly.
Lan Qiren’s beard twitches. “Yet is it not often true that fortune will punish those who heedlessly ignore the wisdom of their elders?”
“Of course,” Jiang Fengmian agrees easily, instantly making Lan Qiren suspicious. “It is a tragic day when one cannot find wisdom from one’s elders,” he adds, proving Lan Qiren’s suspicions correct.
“Hmph.” Lan Qiren redirects his attention to the tournament, and almost winces when he sees three Lans lose within a minute of each other. “It seems Sect Leader Jiang’s disciples are exceptionally brutal today,” he comments.
“Jiang disciples are always exceptional,” Jiang Fengmian allows, like Lan Qiren just complimented him. “Your disciples seem to be rather weak-willed today.”
“Hmph!” Lan Qiren puts his teacup down with a little more force than strictly required.
They watch in silence as the final round begins. These matches take even longer, but soon enough the field is left with heirs and head disciples. Lan Wangji defeats Nie Rong, and Wei Wuxian defeats Jin Zixuan. Both Lan Qiren and Jiang Fengmian lean forward as the third to last match begins; Jiang Wanyin and Lan Xichen.
Lan Qiren’s eyes widen when something purple flashes on Jiang Wanyin’s wrist. He opens his mouth to say that additional spiritual weapons are forbidden, except they aren’t; it’s just that nobody has an additional spiritual weapon that would prove functional in a fight. The Lans have spiritual instruments, but those serve in a battle, not in a one-on-one duel. Instead, he blink in shock as Zidian leaps to life, and the battle begins.
“But,” Lan Qiren manages, frantically wracking his memory, “Where was it for all of his previous matches in the tournament?”
“Why, he hardly needed it, until now,” Jiang Fengmian says serenely.
Lan Qiren hears the implied compliment for his nephew and ignores it. “It is disgraceful,” he says instead, “to withhold an advantage like that.”
“My son has broken no rules and fights on his own power,” Jiang Fengmian says. There’s an edge to his voice that there wasn’t before, sharpened when Lan Qiren called his son disgraceful. “I fail to see what is so disgraceful about his actions.”
On the other side of the stone hall, Jin Guangshan and Nie Mingjue watch avidly as Nie Rong and Jin Zixuan battle for fourth place. Wen Ruohan stormed out long before his last disciple was eliminated.
“Perhaps Sect Leader Jiang has failed to consider the common courtesy expected from a worthy opponent,” Lan Qiren snaps, watching his nephew struggle against the rage of Jiang Wanyin. When he noticed that all the Jiang disciples seemed especially furious today, Jiang Wanyin was not an exception.
“My disciples pay great care to areas of courtesy that matter,” Jiang Fengmian refutes. He takes another sip from his tea and side-eyes Lan Qiren. “For example, they take matters of the hearts with utmost sincerity. You will not find a Jiang disciple who does not treat it with the respect it deserves. This is, after all,” he adds, “merely a sparring match.”
Lan Qiren harumphs loudly. “As do the Lans.”
“Then I find that the Lans do not place the same value on happiness in a marriage as the Jiangs,” Jiang Fengmian says snidely. Lan Qiren finds it rather hypocritical of him, given what is said about his own marriage.
Lan Qiren glowers at him. “Perhaps our lifestyles are simply too incompatible to ever coexist,” he concludes.
“Perhaps,” Jiang Fengmian allows, and they both glare at each other for a second before their neutral faces return.
Their attention is dragged away from each other when the match on the training grounds concludes.
“I don’t believe it,” Lan Qiren snaps. Lan Xichen is four years older than Jiang Wanyin, yet he is the one who has lost.
The fifteen-year-old Jiang heir stands panting in the middle of the field, looking bone-tired. Still, he finds the energy to flush bright red when he sneaks a glance at his father and sees Jiang Fengmian smiling at him proudly.
The nineteen-year-old Lan heir picks himself off the ground, looking rueful and disappointed, but perhaps not as surprised as he should be.
“He threw the match,” Lan Qiren accuses.
“It is disappointing to hear what Acting Sect Leader Lan thinks of my son’s skills,” Jiang Fengmian says mildly.
Lan Qiren has a feeling that the other man is one insult away from challenging him to a duel at dawn. But once again, their attention is drawn to the training field. Jiang Wanyin and Lan Xichen stand on the side, talking and watching as the penultimate match begins: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.
Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren watch them fight for several long minutes, fingers tightened on their teacups, wincing at every close call. Watching them fight is like watching a dance; the two move impossibly fast and incredibly gracefully. Wei Wuxian’s movements flow like the waters of Lotus Pier, and there’s a sharp, elegant grace from every one of Lan Wangji’s movements. Usually in a fight like this, Wei Wuxian would play dirty. Talismans are forbidden, but he would not hesitate to fling dirt in the face of his opponent; all the other Jiang disciples have employed these tactics, his tactics, throughout the tournament. But Wei Wuxian is using none of them now. It’s a clean fight.
It’s a beautiful fight. Neither Wei Wuxian nor Lan Wangji look remotely concerned with the outcome of the fight. The minutes drag on and on, yet neither seems any closer to winning. On the other end of the field, Jin Zixuan beats Nie Rong, and Nie Mingjue endures a smug, superior look from Jin Guangshan. Yet the penultimate fight drags on and on. The loser will fight Lan Xichen for third place, though of course if the two Lans face each other, then Lan Wangji will doubtless ceede the match. It’s hardly acceptable for a Lan to fight their own brother in public.
“They’re not taking this seriously,” Lan Qiren mutters under his breath.
Jiang Fengmian merely smiles mysteriously, and says nothing. It’s probably for the best that no one knows just how involved he was with his children’s scheming. Jiang Wanyin needs to fight the winner for first place, but they don’t look anywhere near to declaring a winner.
“Surely they must finish before the banquet,” Lan Qiren says out loud, when the match continues dragging on, and the sun begins to sink. He gets a little peevish when he’s hungry, though of course with the strict schedule of the Lans, that’s almost never a problem.
“Hm,” Jiang Fengmian says, noncommittally.
Finally, the match concludes. Not with either disciple winning, but rather with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji drawing back from unspoken agreement and declaring a tie.
“What,” Lan Qiren splutters. “What is a draw. Who will win? This is ridiculous!”
“It appears,” Jiang Fengmian says, while finishing his tea, “that they are equals in every way that matters. They make a fine…pair,” he adds, watching Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stand side by side while they ceede the final match to Jiang Wanyin.
Lan Qiren cannot deny that they make for quite the pair, especially after their duel. That doesn’t change the fact that Wei Wuxian is the opposite of Lan ideals in every way. He is loud, brash, overconfident, and rude. His exceptional cultivation skill or intelligence does not change that. It also doesn’t change the fact that Lan Qiren would accept all those traits in his nephew’s cultivation partner, so long as he knew Wangji was happy, and he knows Wangji is happy.
It’s just that he sees Wei Wuxian wild and bursting with noise, and cannot believe that a person like him will ever be content to live in the Cloud Recesses for the rest of his life. And as Lan Wangji is the higher ranking of the two, that is where Wei Wuxian would live if Lan Qiren had agreed when he saw his nephew’s earnest face, a couple months ago. But it is better to break his nephew’s heart now, Lan Qiren decided, than to give him hope and see his heart broken months or years later, whenever Wei Wuxian inevitably grows bored with him. Lan Qiren has done his best to raise his nephews to be good, honorable men, and he does not believe that Wangji would ever trap someone who no longer wishes to be in the Cloud Recesses. But he and his brother were also raised to be righteous and honorable, and Lan Qiren does not want any chance of Wangji repeating his father’s mistake.
“I cannot believe,” Lan Xichen says, “that we thought your brother was the troublemaker of you and your siblings.”
Jiang Cheng smirks faintly. His heart is still thumping in his chest, number one, number one, beating ceaselessly. He knows that he didn’t really place first in this tournament, that he would’ve lost to either Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji, but he is still marked down as first. That has to count for something. At the very least, he beat Lan Xichen, who has borne the loss with a dignity that Jiang Cheng could’ve never managed. He doesn’t seem overly upset at coming in fourth when he was expected to place within the top three.
“I am sure I do not know what Young Master Lan means,” Jiang Yanli says politely. She usually doesn’t attend conferences, but she made an exception for this one. She has to make sure everything runs smoothly, after all.
The banquet has begun, and the three of them sit at the Jiang delegation table. Nie Mingjue, or his deputy rather, had been under the impression that the Lans and the Jiangs were in the middle of a feud, and thus seated them far apart. But Lan Xichen is currently sitting in Wei Wuxian’s seat, next to Jiang Cheng.
Lan Xichen smiles faintly. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to slander the good name of the Jiangs.”
Jiang Cheng bites back a your uncle would, because he’s rather happy with Lan Xichen at the moment. He thinks they’ve built some sort of tentative friendship through the hard work and plotting they’ve done over the past few months.
He hears the sound of choking, and turns to see Lan Xichen’s eyes watering. He tried Yunmeng spiced pork, apparently. Jiang Cheng forgot how bland the dishes of Gusu are compared to Yunmeng, and manages to drum up some sympathy.
“What is this?” Lan Xichen asks weakly. He reaches for his water.
“Spice,” Jiang Cheng says dryly. He pauses, noting Lan Xichen’s pained expression. “Will this be a problem for your brother?”
They’ve taken to speaking like their brothers are already engaged, and they’re just planning the marriage arrangements. Jiang Cheng has found it works much better this way, when the people discussing the marriage are not interested in the politics of it, and also not idiots, like their brothers. The general consensus they’ve come to is that the lifestyle of Lotus Pier and the Cloud Recesses is totally foreign to one out of the two, but that their idiot, in-love brothers will bear it for each other. Lan Xichen wants his brother to get out more (not his words), while Jiang Cheng agrees that Wei Wuxian will terrorize the Lan elders, but that the juniors will absolutely love him. Therefore they’ve agreed to an equal split, all without consulting their brothers, of course. They can’t be trusted.
Lan Xichen considers this. “No,” he says finally. “Wangji will be happy to.”
Jiang Cheng still can’t really imagine Lan Wangji being happy about anything, but he’s been given irrefutable proof that Lan Wangji loves his brother, and that’s good enough for him.
Wei Wuxian leads the junior Jiang disciples into the middle of the conference hall. They’ve been practicing this demonstration for months, regardless of whether or not Jiang Cheng would win the tournament. Their faith in him didn’t do good things for Jiang Cheng’s stress levels, but it certainly drove him to work harder. Wei Wuxian is not part of it, but he’s been leading them through practice for months, and they feel more confident with him there.
Jiang Cheng finds himself twisting Zidian around and around his finger as the demonstration begins. It starts rather straightforward; these demonstrations are only meant to show the style of the sect who won the tournament. He’s glad he won first, but now he’s worried for the other junior disciples as well. Just as his win was partly orchestrated because of Wei Wuxian, so is this demonstration.
Mother only let him borrow Zidian on the promise that he would beat Lan Xichen. He thinks she would’ve been quicker to give it to him if he’d promised to beat Wei Wuxian instead, but even with Zidian he doesn’t think he could. It wasn’t until Father spoke up for him that she agreed, partly because Father hardly ever speaks up for him. Perhaps that’s part of the power of it, Jiang Cheng thinks. Everyone listens when Father takes a firm stance, because he hardly ever does.
Jiang Cheng knows he has to return Zidian to his mother after the conference, but a large part of him doesn’t want to. He’s trained with it for months, and its weight has become a familiar comfort on his finger. He feels unreasonably stronger with it.
The Jiang disciples leap and spin through the air flawlessly, and Jiang Cheng forces his heart rate to settle. He focuses instead of Lan Qiren, who seems to be unhappy with the fact that his eldest nephew is sitting with the Jiangs. He’s glaring at Jiang Cheng’s father, who Jiang Cheng knows notices, even if Jiang Fengmian is busy pretending to watch the demonstration instead. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, sits stone-faced at the Lan delegation table, not expressing a single interest in the world, pretending it isn’t unusual for Wei Wuxian to be sitting in Lan Xichen’s seat. Jiang Cheng can’t quite tell which seat swap Lan Qiren is more upset about.
The first section of the demonstration ends, and the Jiang disciples assemble back in their perfect rows. The eldest junior disciple, at the very front, steps forward. Liu Yufeng has practiced this over and over, but he still can’t quite keep the nervousness out of his voice when he announces the Jiang delegation’s intention to demonstrate techniques developed by their current Head Disciple.
They immediately launch into the sequenced order of all the tricks that Wei Wuxian has ever come up with over the years. Jiang Cheng has to remind himself not to squeal with glee when he sees Lan Qiren’s sour expression as the Jiang disciples pull off a particularly impressive move. He sneaks looks at the other sect leaders. Wen Ruohan is nowhere in sight, but that’s probably a good thing. Jin Guangshan hides behind his fan, but can’t hide jealous eyes. Nie Mingjue looks reluctantly impressed. Jiang Fengmian lifts his tea and hides a smug smile behind his sleeve. Wei Wuxian is making gaping fish faces. Jiang Cheng is far too proud of the fact that they managed to keep this a secret from him. Even Lan Wangji looks a tad pleased.
“They couldn’t have done it without you, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli murmurs from his left, and Jiang Cheng flushes pink.
“It was your idea,” he says.
“But you won the tournament to give them the chance,” Jiang Yanli says, smiling gently.
“Lan Xichen threw the match!” Jiang Cheng accuses. The back of his neck is bright red.
“You give yourself too little credit, Young Master Jiang,” Lan Xichen says mildly. He still looks like the refined First Jade, if one ignores the empty pitcher of water in front of him.
“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng mutters. He barely remembers not to slouch. “And call me Jiang Cheng. Everyone does.”
“Only if you call me Xichen,” says Xichen. “After all, if everything goes well, we will be brothers-in-law soon enough.”
Jiang Cheng’s entire face is aflame. “Okay,” he manages, before he firmly refocuses on the skill demonstration.
The junior Jiang disciples finish, and Jiang Cheng can see Wei Wuxian secretly wiping away a tear. They bow together, and then Liu Yufeng steps forward again to greet all the sects.
“We appreciate our Head Disciple Wei greatly,” the boy says. He doesn’t sound nervous now that he’s likely sweating through his robes, which means everyone can hear how painfully earnest he sounds. “He is kind, righteous, an amazing teacher, and a wonderful Head Disciple, and we will always look up to him–even if he joins another sect!”
This last bit is said in a rush, and pretty obviously directed at Lan Qiren. Liu Yufeng bows again and hurries back into his position. Lan Xichen makes a small sound of surprise, and Jiang Cheng turns to follow his gaze.
The disciples usually do not eat in the same hall as the sect leaders, but the Nies are an exception. The junior disciples are crowded in the back, behind the main sect tables. Across from Jiang Cheng, hidden behind the Lan delegation table, at the very back of the room, a Lan disciple leaps to his feet.
“Please forgive this disciple’s impertinence!” The boy bows repeatedly, shouting so that his voice will reach the corners of the room. His knees are quaking with terror, but he continues standing. “This disciple does not wish to insert his insolent opinions! But! We really, really like Senior Wei!”
Wei Wuxian’s face goes through a riot of emotions at being called Senior Wei, but no one sees, as everyone’s attention is focused on the small Lan disciple.
“Oh, A-Fan…” Lan Xichen sighs.
“Isn’t that the one who imprinted on Wei Wuxian like a baby duckling?” Jiang Cheng asks. He only met Wei Wuxian once. Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand how his brother has this effect on people.
“Yes,” Lan Xichen says.
“We would be forever grateful if Senior Wei could be our teacher!” The boy continues, quaking in his boots as Lan Qiren glares at him. “We would be willing to w-work very hard!”
Another Lan disciple stands up next to him. “I-I-I would eat spicy congee every day!” He yells, and throws himself into a series of bows.
It isn’t long before a whole group of small Lans are proclaiming their love for Senior Wei and bowing so frantically they look like they’re having seizures.
Jiang Fengmian raises his tea again and speaks behind his sleeve, so only Lan Qiren can hear. “The only reason your nephew has not eloped with my son,” he says quietly, “is because A-Xian would not let him, out of a desire to protect his reputation. Not because it is important to A-Xian, but because you have instilled its importance in your nephew.”
Lan Qiren looks from his two nephews, neither of whom look willing to support him, to the two delegations of junior disciples loudly announcing their admiration for Wei Wuxian, to Sect Leader Jiang, who is truly angry for the first time in all the time Lan Qiren has known him, and finally to Wei Wuxian, who looks just as stunned as Lan Qiren feels.
“Fine,” Lan Qiren hisses to Jiang Fengmian. “But he is not joining the Lan Sect.”
“Perhaps they can join each other’s sect,” Jiang Fengmian proposes.
Lan Qiren actually takes a moment to consider the possible implications of this. His immediate reaction is to reject any deal which includes accepting Wei Wuxian as a Lan. But having Lan Wangji as a senior disciple of YunmengJiang would give him the protection of another sect and affirm the ties of the Lan and Jiang sects in a time when Wen Ruohan is growing greedier and greedier, and turning his hungry eyes to the Cloud Recesses Library. Beyond that, however, is the implication that if Wei Wuxian does one day feel cooped up in the Cloud Recesses, he can simply return to Lotus Pier for a time. Perhaps they could even split their time on a regular basis–spend half the year in Yunmeng, and the other half in Gusu.
Lan Qiren wonders why he never considered Wangji leaving the Cloud Recesses, for any period of time, as a possibility. He looks at his youngest nephew, sitting calmly and properly next to Wei Wuxian despite the chaos raging in the conference hall. And he realizes, with the loss of a father, that Lan Wangji is no longer the boy waiting outside his mother’s door.
“That is…acceptable,” Lan Qiren says finally.
Wei Wuxian is overwhelmed. After months of misery, his siblings just crashed a discussion conference and somehow got Lan Qiren to agree to an engagement. An engagement! He’s engaged to Lan Zhan! He doesn’t know how to deal! Wei Wuxian could ascend to the heavens on pure joy right now. So he does the only thing he can think of to do and throws himself into Lan Zhan’s lap.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says loudly. “One of your disciples just threatened to break the rules! Aren’t you going to do something?”
Lan Zhan only looks at him fondly. “Hm. I would also eat spicy congee every day for you, Wei Ying.”