Chapter Text
Sizhui sat quite still on his knees before his tiny desk. On it lay his brushes, ink and paper. He had long since finished practicing his writing- the tips of his pink fingers were stained black from the work. Even at his age he understood the value of work and was very happy to be able to write his own name now as well as the name of his clan and even -
“Hanguang Jun! Look I wrote your name” His smile was bright, the white robes he wore dimming in comparison to his glowing complexion. He beamed up at the stoic face above him.
Lan Wangji was sitting upright at his own, much bigger desk playing the guqin after having finished up his work for the day.
There they were Sizhui now drawing and doodling names and Lan Wangji now playing his instrument. It was rare actually, to find the man playing within earshot, usually he set Sizhui to a task and himself to business and even when Sizhui was done with his practice, even when Sizhui had become bored of drawing and even when Sizhui was taken to clean up for dinner, Lan Wangji was still not finished.
This was more than anything, because of the immense pain that even this little work caused Lan Wangi’s healing back but how was the child to know that?
Lan Wangji stopped his playing to take a look. Taking the paper in hand he inspected it thoroughly.
“Sizhui what is this?” He pointed to one of the squiggles on the paper.
“That's the letter j right?”
“It should be capitalized, let me show you.”
He set the paper down and took the ink soiled brush from Sizhui and began to mark the paper in bold strokes writing the j in a large font to stick out amongst the mess of scribbles on the paper.
As he explained about capital letters, a repeated lesson, Sizhui squirmed his way into Lan Wangis lap, sitting half on half off with an arm around one large shoulder clutching the hair there out of habit. He was bigger now and the childish grip he once had was a bit painful, the ink on his hands no doubt transferring into the hair, but Wangji did not complain.
Sizhui leaned his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder dozing a bit, the soft strands in his hand and murmured words reminding him of earlier times when these things signaled a nap was approaching.
Suddenly Lan Wangji stiffened and Sizhui blearily tried to straighten himself, worried he had been caught falling asleep during an example.
“And this here? What is this?” Lan Wangji wrapped his free arm around Sizhui and used it to push the child upright gently.
Sizhui felt this was a serious question for some reason though to him it meant very little.
“ That's . . . um I'm not sure. That man always had it”
“That man?” Sizhui felt the stiffness in Lan Wangji even without Lan Wangji physically moving.
“The man in black, he carries his stick and plays with me. Well he used to, then he went away”
After a long pause Lan Wangji replied, “Do you miss him?”
Sizhui considered it seriously, petting Lan Wangjis hair in the self calming way children have of petting others. Lan Wangji, who was more affectionate than one might imagine upon first glance, allowed this as well without fuss.
“Sometimes I wish he would come to play with me like he used to . . . but now I have more friends to play with who are small like me, and I have the rabbits and more to eat and I even have you.” He smiles at Lan Wangji and the former returned it almost imperceptibly. The smile was familiar to Wangji, as bright as one he had seen before.
“When I miss someone I play this song. . . would you like to hear it?”
Sizhui nodded so hard he nearly fell from Lan Wangji’s leg and moved to sit in the centre of Wangjis lap rather than the precarious spot on his leg.
Lan Wangji sighed a little, Sizhui would be too large for this in a short while and he was intent on allowing the boy all the time he wanted for things such as cuddling. But did Sizhui have to sit on his hair every time. Without even wincing he pulled his hair from under the child and lifted his hands over the strings one on either side of his charge.
“First is attention, do not allow your wrists to touch the table . . . ”
He explained the basics to Lan Sizhui who had in truth returned to his previous state of near sleep against the warm chest behind him.
In the sleepy haze he heard not only the peaceful strum of the guqin but also the hum of soft, soft, singing. When his nurse maid came to ready him for dinner he was fast asleep.
----*________________________________*----
The next day out in the fields a small boy in white could be seen crowded by rabbits who he petted and kissed as he giggled. As he played with them he hummed a soft, soft, tune and thought of a man dressed in black, with a stick, who he thought might have also held him as gently as his Hanguang Jun.
Lan Wangji watched him, feeding carrots to the tiny animals who were not busy playing with his adoptive son. Lan Sizhui, with his youthful energy, quick wits, and childish clinging, the tiny fingers that wrapped themselves in his hair, the way he would grasp onto Lan Wangji’s leg. He was enamored by it all, as he watched him grow day by day he could only think of another who would have wanted to see Lan Sizhui this way. No, that person would have known Lan Sizhui by A-Yuan.
He sat down in the grass, suddenly exhausted, feeling every bit of the pain left in his back. Abandoned by the animals, watching them crawl over Lan Sizhui like a thousand ants enjoying the sound of the shrieks and giggles coming from what seemed to be a mound of rabbits. He tried to focus on the scene before him rather than the pain both figuratively and literally behind him.
He wondered if Lan Sizhui would forget all about his ‘man with a stick’ one day. He was alarmed to find that the idea was not terrible to him. Wasn't it better that Lan Sizhui didn’t remember? Didn't cry over things which could not be changed?
No it was fine, Lan Sizhui could forget. Lan Wangji remembered enough for them both. Lan Sizhui himself was his constant reminder, his hope and all he had left from a love long gone. Left in his care was Wei Wuxian's legacy, for all of his fighting for all of his strain, his agony, what was left? Just this one Wen boy, this one innocent child who liked to play with rabbits and pet his father’s hair, for his life an unimaginable price had been paid and Lan Wangji would never let it go to waste.
“Hanguang Jun? What's wrong? Look, this rabbit is not feeling good either. . . Hanguang Jun?”
Lan Sizhui held in his hands one of the many white rabbits in the field outstretched in his arms. He was wearing his playclothes, the set given to him by Lan Wangji after noticing that nothing prevented Lan Sizhui from dirtying his white robes when they went out to feed the rabbits. He was covered in grass and dirt, his forehead ribbon crooked and loose around his head. Adorable.
As Lan Wangji red the rabbit, he realized that he recognized this one, it was one of the first, one of the two rabbits Wei Wuxian had given him personally.
Lan Sizhui came to stand at his side, observing the shaking rabbit. “I think he needs a hug, what do you think?”
As he spoke Lan Wangji saw not one but three missing teeth. In a sudden bout of emotion Lan Wangji pulled both child and rabbit into his arms holding them tightly despite his dirty clothes and tattered appearance.
“Yes, I also think he needs a hug.”
Lan Sizhui thought he might have been kissed on the head then but he could not be sure. But he knew he was being held, he was safe and warm and above all, he was loved.