Work Text:
This was something cultivator parents could do for their infants: take a piece of themself and imbue it within their child. Typically they chose what of themself they thought to be the strongest or most important part, the aspect which was of highest value, the trait that had given them success and so would therefore naturally give success to their child.
For example, Cangse Sanren upon beholding her son post-birth, burst into tearful joyous laughter. Small A’Ying’s red face puckered at her. “This baby,” Cangse said, and cut her words off there. She touched him gently on the nose and in a flash of light had given him her heart, utterly. And had given him her curiousity, too. It was not a hunger for learning as to her, hunger was a form of pain. It was true earnest purpose-less curiousity - wonder for the sake of wonder. Cangse knew it would shape her child, as it had shaped her, and she thought it would guide his life in extraordinary paths.
Wei Changze’s gift was harder to describe. It was his loyalty. A specific kind of loyalty, one absent of ego. He gave it to his son three nights after Wei Ying’s birth. Wei Ying was a night owl already, they could tell, but he wasn’t obnoxious about it. He was just awake. A calm baby, always held in either one or the other of his parent’s arms, very small but already growing. The redness and wrinkles of birth had faded and left a perfect tiny human to be cuddled. Wei Changze loved him so. What had brought Changze the most joy all his life had been his devotion to the chosen few whose heart declared deserved it. For much of his life, Jiang Fengmian was the loudest name Changze’s heart knew - until Cangse, and then it was her.
Changze was hard for others to understand. Part of this was that he truly had a different set of values and expectations than seemed to be the norm, but another part of this was that not many tried to understand him. They didn’t think he was that interesting. They looked at the way he expressed his love and scoffed, because it was a servant’s expression of devotion. It was not dignified or lordly. It was something abject, yet not degrading. This was a difficult distinction to comprehend. It was how Changze could be brother to Fengmian with never a cloud of jealousy to trouble them, and how Changze could be husband to Cangse with never the sin of pride to divide them, despite Fengmian’s lordly status and despite Cangse’s prodigious talent.
Changze knew no other way to love than this and he gave it to his son.
So! It is this way with most children born to cultivator parents.
Lan Huan gained from his noble mother, at the age of two hours alive, her capacity for calm. She felt like a wild creature so soon after giving birth, felt trapped in her small pen of a house, surrounded by those unfriendly and disapproving of her. What kept her human was staying calm; mastering herself, and thus the world around her. She was not an animal. They had bred her like one, but she would remain herself. She would be calm. Her son, too, would be calm.
To Lan Zhan, years later, she would give this: endurance.
The Twin Jades of Gusu Lan received from their father the same aspect, as it was this that Qingheng-Jun found the most integral and necessary. They would be ruled by love when it struck them, as he had been ruled by love, and as love had completely changed the course of his life.
Not that this had led him to the righteous path, or restrained him from dishonorable acts. But Qingheng-Jung was not a man who would consider these as detriment. He was, rather, a man obsessed with the own mythos and tragedy and romance of his life. He was self-indulgent. It would be years before his immediate family - his brother and sons - would admit that, of him, they were ashamed.
Who else, then? Meng Yao? No, his mother was no cultivator and his father had no inclination to give him anything, least of all so precious a gift as a piece of his own self.
Jin Guangshan would similarly give nothing to Qin Su, or Mo Xuanyu, or to the three others he fathered who were carried to term. No - it was the legitimate heir only who received his gift. To Jin Zixuan, Guangshan gave the confidence to know what he wanted and to pursue it. Sounds dashing, doesn’t it? Maybe even heroic, in the way that young callow heroes are arrogant and self-assured. Jin Guangshan was young once; was perhaps heroic once. Who knows what Jin Zixuan would have become had the years been kind enough to settle on him as he grew, rather than slide off of him and shatter.
Jin Zixuan had two cultivator parents. His mother bestowed upon him integrity. While it was a cornerstone for her personality, she also chose it strategically, knowing her husband’s character and wishing to counteract it in their child.
This sounded wise and kind and all other good, motherly things. It was, however, deeply cynical as a wife.
As for Qinghe Nie Sect - well, both Mingjue and Huaisang were imbued with their father’s heart. He gave to Mingjue the strength of mountains, the strength of their home, so that he would not falter. This was a man who valued both of his sons equally and it should surprise none that he gave the same of himself to Huaisang. The fact that this strength looked so different when worn by each brother meant nothing other than the observational power of most bystanders was weak indeed.
Nie Mingjue’s mother was also a cultivator. She gave her son conviction. Nie Huaisang’s mother was not a cultivator, and she gave him no more than a mortal mother’s love, which was actually quite enough all on its own.
Wen Qing and Wen Ning? They received the same gift, although Wen Qing’s came from their mother and Wen Ning’s came from their father. Among the Dafan Wen, these gifts were passed along gender lines. Yet both their parents valued most this trait, and wished to ensure it lived within their children, and it was this: gentleness. They didn’t know how bad life could get. They would die before their children reached ten years. They would never learn how much it hurt to be gentle in a time of war. They knew only the cruelties of their cousins, the main branch Wen. They knew only what they did not want their children to become.
Well, what of those cousins? Wen Xu and Wen Chao.
Remember, these are pure-hearted gifts. Only good intentions can cause this transfer to form. Knowing this, is it a surprise that Wen Ruohan gave to his sons the aspects of himself of determination and pride? They were good gifts, and Wen Ruohan was a strong cultivator who could give much of himself. To be determined, to be proud, with proper guidance, these can be the bedrock of great leadership. They are not a prophecy of doom.
In fact, they are the exact same gifts bestowed upon Jiang Yanli.
Yu Ziyuan gave her her pride, a diamond hard kernel of it, and Jiang Fengmian gave her his determination, so that she would always reach for the impossible. These gifts combined in Yanli to form a deep sense of dignity and an implacable belief in herself. Much like Changze, not many would understand her and most would dismiss her, mistaking their lack of understanding to mean she was simple. But she was not simple. Yanli was fully herself, at all times, in defiance of expectation or convention. Ah, truly, her parents gave her queenly gifts.
Jiang Cheng? Well, things were different when he came along. Yanli had shown neither interest nor aptitude in advancing her cultivation to the height required of a clan leader. Yu Ziyuan could likely have no more children, and A’Cheng would likely be heir. What he needed to succeed was different than what they’d thought Yanli would need to succeed. The other sect heirs were developing into formidable figures, and A’Cheng would need to hold his own against them despite being, in some cases, almost a full generation younger. These were important considerations. Ziyuan and Fengmian took their time deciding. Unfortunately, they did not consult one another.
From his mother, A’Cheng received boldness. Think it, do it, no hesitation. Like a blade stroke. To falter would be to leave a jagged edge - no. Ziyuan wished for all her son’s cuts to be clean. As a young leader, it was more important than almost anything else that Jiang Cheng do what needed doing as soon as that need arose. Ziyuan would never admit it, but her daughter’s mildness troubled her. For her son, she required stronger emotions.
Jiang Fengmian thought ahead, to the days and years where his son would rule amongst other clans who already put forth heirs that stood as giants. Nie Mingjue was a host unto himself; Lan Xichen was widely acknowledged as the foremost amongst the young masters. Wen Xu would either match or outpace his own father, and Wen Ruohan was already regarded as legend. Fengmian thought of what he’d struggled to find in himself, what had been integral to his leadership, and gave this to his son: caution.
Boldness and caution. Ah, Jiang Cheng, no wonder. Poor child. Poor soul. The conflict ran deep through the core of him and created a fault line upon which he would fracture. He grew up brittle. As a young man, he broke. He spent much of his life broken. It wasn’t a death sentence. He could still do as his parents had wished - he could still lead. Despite himself, despite his family, despite the circumstances under which he came of age, Jiang Cheng survived. There was some stubborn strength in him that he had formed himself, in reaction to the contradiction at the heart of him, that let him survive again and again.
This survival is what he gave to Jin Ling.
Jin Ling, Jin Ling. He gained not two, nor three, but four gifts. The first were from Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, of course. Zixuan had become aware of his clan’s shortfalls and, as his mother before him, wished to preempt them in his son. And so he gave Jing Ling honour. Yanli had watched her home burn and then rebuild. Earlier in her life, perhaps she would have considered pride an integral gift, given how often others attempted to strip hers from her. Or love, important for how fiercely Yanli loved and how much it shaped her. But this was Yanli who had watched the world change around her, seen her parents fall and her brothers shatter. She had had to grow her own resiliency slowly, learning how to absorb a shock, how to pivot around the blows. She gave this to her child. That nothing would ever be so bad that he could not smile again.
Survival, honour, resiliency, ah! Jin Ling, you prince. Three priceless gifts. What of the fourth? Well, he had another uncle with guardianship over him, of course.
What did Jin Guangyao give him? Only the good can pass in this way. Remember that. Only the pure intention. The wish for the best. What of Jin Guangyao would he choose to pass on to the son of his brother, who he’d had murdered? What was good in Jin Guangyao that he would wish to see reflected in Jin Ling?
For this we go to Meng Shi. She lived such a grim life. She could not give much better to her son. She was no cultivator to give him a piece of her soul. But she taught him that the future was vast. It was full of potential. Your plans might not work out, but maybe they would, if you just worked hard and kept your hope.
Hope.
Three Lans received three gifts each. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji each received blessings from their father and mother, and also from their uncle. He was also their parent. In the important ways, the ways that mattered, he raised them. Lan Qiren gave Xichen dignity. He believed his brother’s wife was too wild and wished to curtail any such trait in her offspring. When Wangji was born, Qiren had grown doubt in his heart. Some part of him had begun to understand what they had done to Madam Lan was unjust. But not all of him understood this yet - by the time he did, it would be too late. Still. Enough doubt, enough confusion. For Wangji, Qiren gave righteousness. So that Wangji would ensure the evil that came to pass before him would be rectified. So that Wangji would be a clarifying light upon the world.
The third Lan who would receive three gifts was Lan Sizhui, born Wen Yuan. He was of the Dafan Wen, please recall, and they passed their gifts along gender lines. His birth father was a young cultivator who would die by a Nie blade. A’Yuan’s father had been conscripted to war, though his path of cultivation was medicine-based, as was common among his branch. He had no gift for war. He loved his wife and he loved his son. He didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want to kill. The idea of killing was anathema to him. He had an abiding respect for life. This is what he gave to A’Yuan.
Three gifts - well, of course, the second came from Wei Wuxian. It surprised Wuxian too, when it happened. It wasn’t intentional and it should have been impossible. Not only was A’Yuan a toddler by then - months and months older than was usual for this custom - and not only was Wuxian not A’Yuan’s biological parent, but Wuxian was also lacking in golden core. And yet he still felt, as he held A’Yuan, a tenderness that moved him, a love that consumed his whole being. Wuxian had never known what it was to love a child like they were born from you, until he held A’Yuan and loved A’Yuan in this way. It wasn’t planned; there wasn’t much forethought. Wuxian didn’t even know it was possible until he’d done it. Until he’d given A’Yuan the part of him that was loudest in the moment and it was this: joy.
Wuxian wasn’t a particularly joyous person. Oh, he laughed easily, found amusement in everything. But that was more a product of his agile mind and bright curiousity. Everything was interesting to him. This could, at times, look like joy. But the real thing - that was rarer. Perhaps A’Yuan just brought it out in him. It was a good gift. It would make all of the sorrows and tragedies easier to bear, as A’Yuan would always find something small and bright to illuminate his life. A spark of joy to keep his world from falling entirely to the dark. A good gift. One that made life worth living.
And the last of course came from Lan Wangji. He also had not expected he would be able to give a piece of himself to A’Yuan. It happened in a rush, when he found Wen Yuan’s feverish small body, hidden from those who would strike him down for his crime of being born. A’Yuan was very close to death. Wangji held him and felt such a thunderous denial. No. Not this one, not this child, not this child of his beloved. Not this child he also loved. And in that moment a piece of himself cleaved free and joined with A’Yuan and tethered him to the world. It was such a primal emotion, more a reaction than an action. A denial of death - a defiance of death. A refusal to despair.
Wangji gave A’Yuan his heart entirely and in that moment made A’Yuan his son. Later, there would be a formal adoption. But the true adoption happened here.
Defiance of death, respect for life, and joy. What would not be possible for a soul such as one who possessed these three traits? Lan Yuan, you fortunate son.
The gifts were personal, were honest, were true, but they more defined the giver than the recipient. These gifts, after all, told their children what their parents held to be most important. For some, these gifts were the only way they would know their parents. With each trial Wangji endured, he understood his mother more. Each time Wuxian gave his loyalty to another, he felt kinship with his father. And wasn’t that also a gift, in and of itself?
A way for a lonely grieving orphan to reach through time and feel the touch of their loving parent’s hand, bestowing upon them an intention that was only good.