Chapter Text
Lan Qiren sat across from his nephew, thinking long and deep about how to phrase his worries in a way that wouldn’t set him off.
It wasn’t that Lan Xichen threw tantrums like a toddler—he never had, even when his mother died, even when he was forced to become sect leader barely a year into his adulthood. No, instead he became quiet, wandering into a distant place where his body did not follow.
This scared Qiren.
But he had been the acting sect leader up until his brother’s death, and he fulfilled that same role now, whenever Xichen dipped back into his seclusion. His nephew had been spending longer and longer within his sect before these inevitable retreats, but with each return to that cabin deep in the mountains of Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren’s fear grew that he wouldn’t return.
He couldn’t express this worry out loud. Not through words, nor in his expressions. A different method—a permanent one—was in order.
So, Lan Qiren cleared his throat and said, “Xichen, it is time for you to marry.”
Lan Xichen blinked slowly, his eyes drifting from the cooled cup of tea in his hands up to his uncle’s stern face. “Is it?” he answered vaguely.
Normally this would earn a recitation of the Gusu Lan rules—Answer succinctly and with purpose. Pay full attention when you are in conversation. Respect your elders—but today, Lan Qiren was trying his best to be delicate with Xichen.
Brow twitching, he stared his nephew down until he paid attention. “I have been very lenient with you, nephew. But the leading sects are becoming unstable, with none of you marrying or with heirs. It is unacceptable that we have yet to set an example, and worse that the whole jianghu can see the reason why you, of them all, have refused to marry.”
A soft breath fell from Lan Xichen’s lips. He knew his uncle meant well, and it was plain to see that both of them felt very differently about Jin Guangyao. But just the thought of him, his kind smile, his courtesy towards those of lower status, the moment his passionate words began to jar harshly against the actions splayed before him, the way he threatened his own kin… it was all still…
Lan Qiren’s teeth gritted as his nephew drifted again. “Xichen!” he snapped.
Lan Xichen jolted.
Losing patience, Lan Qiren said, “I will handle everything about your marriage, if that is what it takes to get you wed. Everything will be arranged for you. Is that acceptable?”
Silence bloomed and stretched for a long moment. Uncle watched nephew carefully, keeping his expression neutral. Setting a good example for the minor sects wasn’t the only reason he wanted Xichen to be wed; his grief over that man had stunted him, both emotionally and in his cultivation. Qiren feared he would waste away. And what he believed would push Xichen out of this rut was companionship—someone kind, someone who couldn’t scheme. Someone who was wholly and fundamentally different from Jin Guangyao.
(Secretly, Lan Qiren just wanted a good, earnest niece-in-law who was nothing like Wei Ying.)
Whether Xichen understood these intentions or not, he must have known the consequences of both potential actions. He knew this was a crossroads, one they’d been traveling toward as a family for a long time.
The silence trembled before it snapped with a shaky sigh from Lan Xichen.
He nodded, and all was set into motion.
~
There were more Lans at your farm stand than usual.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see cultivators in the outskirts of your region, but as you carried produce up to restock and smiled awkwardly at the people who seemed to stare at you, something about it felt odd. Esteemed cultivators were the ones who didn’t bother to run their own errands out this far. Cultivators were dispatched to even the most remote farm whenever the odd spiritual beast disturbed the agricultural balance. But was rarely one of the big four who sent their people.
Were Lans just really into squash this year?
Casting this oddity to the back of your mind, you continued your duties and paid no attention to the mumblings of the Lan cultivators as their eyes followed your every move.
~
Not many days later, one of the farmhands came running into your room while you were still cleaning up for the morning.
“Miss, your parents—you have a visitor!” she gasped, clutching her chest in what you could only imagine was unparalleled shock.
You blinked at her, not quite understanding. “I have a visitor?” you questioned.
The farmhand nodded vigorously. “They’re talking to your parents right now! Get dressed and come, come!”
Left only with your curiosity, you obliged, putting your hair up like you usually would so it was functionally out of the way. You quickly wiped yourself down in the tub for the sake of your mysterious guests, then passed by your farming clothes in favor of something more presentable. The extent of your wardrobe wasn’t shabby, per se, but you didn’t get out enough to own more than one pair of formal robes. Who could possibly be visiting, anyway?
…
The Lans.
Standing in the entrance of your family’s dining room, you gripped the doorhandle and stared owlishly at the ethereal white robes of the cultivators seated across from your parents.
“Ah, here she is,” your mother said hastily, beckoning you to her side. “Sit, we must catch you up to speed.”
With hesitant steps, you crossed the room and kneeled beside your mother. The two Lans who were here to visit did not stare you down; they waited until you were right across from them to give you a once-over.
What struck you first was their beauty. Their robes pooled elegantly around their bodies, snow-white ribbons fastened securely around their foreheads, and their faces were refined beyond description. You were a little dazed having them look at you, but the older of the Lans lowered himself in a bow.
“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Miss,” he said in a formal monotone. Very strict, like the infamous Lan rules dictated.
“Nice to meet you, Sir,” you returned, at a loss past that simple greeting.
The man beside him appeared younger. He sat poised as any Lan, and docile as a sheared lamb. Gentle brown eyes lifted to meet yours, but it was like a veil shrouded him from your sight. Surprised, you offered a confused smile, but waited to be addressed.
“This is my nephew, Lan Xichen,” the older Lan introduced with a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. The sect leader. “And I am Lan Qiren.”
While your parents likewise introduced you as their daughter, your mind reeled.
The first time you met cultivators was when you were very young. A troublesome yao had been romping in the fields, so powerful the local cultivators couldn’t handle it; being the nearest major sect, Gusu Lan was called in to defeat the beast. They managed to arrive before the yao reached the livestock, and all you remembered of the incident was that only two Lans had shown up: the Twin Jades.
Despite only being about a decade older than your six-year-old self, the pair had eliminated the yao with hardly any effort. You had peeked around your father’s legs to watch him and your mother thank them for their help and offer payment by way of supplies, as your farm was not large enough to drop that much money at the time. The younger brother had glanced at you with startlingly light eyes and otherwise ignored your curious looks, but the older one had smiled down at you and waved.
That was your first impression of cultivators. And now some were in your family’s home. One, you’d met before.
“As we were discussing,” Lan Qiren said with his eyes bearing down on you, “we, as the Lans of Gusu, would like to enter a marriage arrangement between my elder nephew and this Miss.”
The words didn’t process.
Everyone looked at you. Heavy, anxious, cautious, vacant.
You blinked slowly. The only thought in your head was wondering how this had come about.
It was only a matter of time before you were married off, but it had taken this long because you weren’t so desirable as a wife. Your body was too stocky, your skin too rough from farmwork. What femininity you did have was overshadowed by the masculine traits necessitated by your lifestyle; you didn’t care to whittle yourself any other way than how you liked it. Though your temperament was mild, you were too stubborn on certain matters for the local men to bother trying to handle. Everyone in your part of the region had married early, which left you with no prospects and no way to find any. Since your father had suffered health ailments in his middle age, you had become the leading force on your modest farm, so you not only looked the part, but had no time to seek marriage opportunities.
So, you thought it was reasonable to wonder why an esteemed cultivator would go so far to make a proposal to you. Especially being strangers.
“You want to?” was what came out of your mouth, puzzled more than anything.
The Lans paused for a few long breaths. Moving like molasses, Lan Xichen lifted his gaze, and your eyes met. For the first time that day, you felt like he was really looking at you.
Your cheeks warmed. Pretty…
He didn’t speak. Enough time slogged by that Lan Qiren’s beard began to quiver in a way that reminded you of a field mouse cornered inside a barn. “Xichen,” he rumbled, stern and warning. His nephew’s eyes dropped back to the table, that faint, faux smile returning.
Forgetting your manners for a moment, you said, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”
You were addressing Lan Xichen.
Something seemed to change in his eyes. You couldn’t tell if it was the light dimming or glowing brighter, so faint, like a glimmer of moonlight off the smallest wave in a lake. Turning his head a small bit, Lan Xichen looked at you—eyes grazing over your parents—then at his uncle. Back again. It appeared to you like he was really thinking about your words.
Lan Qiren’s whole demeanor was stiff and intense; he was really invested in this arrangement, wasn’t he?
Finally, Lan Xichen bowed his head, demure the way you were expected to be. “I do want this marriage, Miss,” he murmured. His voice was gentle and pleasant, sending tingles down your spine. “If you’ll have me.”
The Twin Jades had strong reputations circulated about them: the younger brother a cold and quiet force of good, and the elder brother a warm and welcoming leader. Both altruistic to the greatest extent of their abilities.
A rumor surfaced in your mind—events a few years past. Seclusion.
Eyes wandering Lan Xichen’s beautiful features, you decided it would be okay to ask after agreeing to everything. You had faith he would be a good husband to you, your background unimportant.
Looking over at your parents, you asked, “Will it be okay?” and you meant both the farm and them.
“Of course, dear,” your mother hurried to say. “We’ll find more help, and Mr. Lan was just saying how your freedoms would be unrestricted—you can come visit.”
A slight pause. Lan Qiren gruffly added, “Our sect will also be providing a hefty dowry to accommodate the deal. We are aware this is a strong request of your daughter, so suddenly.”
“It’s okay,” you asserted with a thankful bow of your head. “It was nice while it lasted.”
The comment earned you a strange look from the old cultivator; the younger one seemed to be zoning out again. But your parents knew what you meant.
From there, the discussion became logistical between your parents and Lan Qiren. Their voices began to blur despite your efforts to pay attention, and you couldn’t help your gaze training on your new betrothed. Lan Xichen sat paintbrush-straight and still as a fixture, his lovely eyes seemingly unable to focus. It took several minutes for him to notice your stare, and his body gave the slightest twitch of surprise at your attention. You tilted your head to the side, just enough to be a silent question posed to him alone: Are you really sure you want to do this?
He was only able to hold your eyes for a scant few heartbeats before dropping his gaze. His eyelids slipped down, head bowing as if to say, It is my duty.
But you couldn’t read minds. The best you could do was trust that he had his own reasons for agreeing to this marriage—and then after, to be a wife that would make your parents and your future husband proud.