The morning light filtered softly through the delicate silk curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Wangji stirred awake, the gentle rays caressing his face like a tender whisper. The lingering warmth from last night's intimacy still pulsed softly within his chest, a quiet flame of joy and vulnerability. His eyes drifted to the figure beside him—Weiying, his husband—whose breathing was slow and even, a picture of peaceful slumber. A surge of affection swelled in Wangji's heart, mingling with a profound sense of gratitude. After so many years of guarded silence and hidden truths, they had finally opened their hearts to one another. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss across Weiying's forehead, the softness of his husband's dark hair tickling his lips and grounding him in the fragile beauty of the moment. The faint scent of jasmine from the night's incense still lingered in the air, wrapping around them like a protective veil. It was a silent vow, a promise of protection and unwavering love.
Rising from the bed, Wangji moved to the bath, the cool water cascading over his skin like a cleansing rain. Each droplet seemed to wash away the lingering doubts and fears that had clung to him like shadows. The smooth stone beneath his feet was cool and grounding, and the faint echo of dripping water filled the quiet room. The water soothed his muscles and mind, leaving him feeling renewed—yet beneath the surface, a quiet unrest simmered. Today was not just another day; it was a day he had to face the tangled web of family expectations and unspoken resentments. He had planned a night hunt with Weiying, a rare escape from the suffocating pressures of his clan, a chance to breathe freely with the one he loved. But before that, there was a confrontation he could no longer avoid—the unresolved tension with his uncle and brother, a rift that threatened to fracture the fragile peace he had found.
When Wangji arrived at his uncle's quarters, the familiar scent of sandalwood and aged paper greeted him. Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen were already deep in conversation, their voices low but charged with an undercurrent of unease. The polished wooden floor gleamed softly under the morning light, and the faint rustle of silk robes punctuated the stillness. The moment he stepped inside, Lan Qiren's face brightened with a forced warmth. "Wangji! Join us for tea," he said, motioning toward the low table where a steaming pot and delicate porcelain cups awaited. The rich aroma of the brewed tea filled the room, mingling with the subtle fragrance of blooming plum blossoms from a nearby vase, but instead of comfort, it only tightened the knot in Wangji's stomach. Not now. Not with those who had caused pain to Weiying.
"I'd rather not," Wangji replied, his voice steady and cold, a clear boundary drawn in the air between them.
Lan Qiren's smile faltered, but he persisted. "Come on, Wangji. Let's have some family time together."
"Family time?" Wangji's voice sharpened, the words cutting through the polite veneer like a blade. "With an incomplete family?" His anger, long suppressed, now bubbled to the surface, raw and unyielding. The room seemed to hold its breath as his words hung heavy between them.
Lan Qiren's eyes darkened. "Incomplete? We are complete, Wangji."
"Complete how?" Wangji's voice rose, frustration pouring out like a torrent. "I'm married! Without my husband, how can we count as complete? First, my mother was cast aside; now my husband is treated as an outsider. How are we complete? Please, justify that, Uncle."
Lan Qiren's composure cracked, his voice rising sharply. "Wangji!"
But Wangji was relentless. "Relax, Uncle. Wangji, come down, I know uncle may have little mistaken here." Lan Xichen interjected, his tone calm but firm, trying to bridge the widening gulf.
"Mistake!" Wangji shot back, his eyes blazing. "If realize you made a mistake, why don't you take back the rules you added to the wall? Why keep punishing those who don't fit your narrow vision?"
"Wangji…" Lan Qiren began again, but Wangji cut him off.
"Yes, Uncle! What's wrong? Did I say anything wrong? If you truly believe it was a mistake, why not correct it? Or is it not a mistake at all, but jealousy and hate? You despise him, don't you? That innocent soul still suffers because my husband is the son of Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren."
"WANGJI!" Lan Qiren's voice thundered, but Wangji stood his ground, unwavering.
"Wangji, he's our uncle!" Lan Xichen pleaded, trying to reason with him.
"And Weiying is my husband—my love—not a mistake to be hidden or denied!" Wangji declared fiercely, his voice ringing with conviction.
Lan Qiren stared at him, incredulous. "Wangji, what's wrong with you?"
The tension in the room crackled like static electricity, thick and suffocating. Wangji felt the crushing weight of familial expectations pressing down on him like a heavy cloak, threatening to smother the love he held dear. But in that moment, he understood something vital: protecting Weiying was not merely an act of love—it was a radical redefinition of family itself. A family that embraced all its members fully, without prejudice or exclusion. A family where love, not bloodline or tradition, was the true bond.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, brother?" Wangji's voice trembled with a mix of hurt and anger. I trusted you, he thought, feeling the weight of betrayal pressing down on him. "I let you make every decision in my life, but when I finally make one for myself, you call it a mistake. You call my Weiying my mistake!" His heart raced as he declared, "No, Weiying isn't my mistake; he's my hope, my life, my smile—he's my sunshine."Wangji's fists clenched at his sides, frustration bubbling over.
"But you know, brother, when a person makes mistakes, they think everyone else does too. That's not true! You got hurt because you chose the wrong person. I'm hurt because I left the person I love alone and stood with the wrong people. We're different, brother! We are different!"
He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as memories flooded back—moments when he felt powerless under the weight of tradition and expectation.
"Maybe I was helpless or stupid back then, thinking about the rules that aren't even followed by the sect leader," he spat.
"WANGJI!!!" Lan Qiren's voice cut through the tension."Shouting is not allowed within the sect," Wangji retorted sharply.
"Talking bad about the dead is not allowed. Holding grievances for the dead is not allowed. Being jealous is not allowed. Using others for your own benefit is not allowed." Each rule he recited felt like a dagger aimed at their hypocrisy. "And quietly watching innocent people being tortured? That's considered a crime! Selling your dignity and ethics for gold is wrong! Tell me which of these laws you don't break!"
His heart pounded as he recalled the horrors he had witnessed. "I told you how they're torturing those Wen recruiters! They're not even cultivators! I saw Wēn Qiónglín with a ghost-attracting flag stabbed into his chest after being beaten to death!" The anguish in his voice was palpable, but who cared? We need Jin's gold, he thought bitterly. So we sell our tongues and morals to buy it.
"Wangji, that—" "Quiet, brother!" Wangji interrupted fiercely. "You even sold me and my personal life to Liǎnfāng-zūn to rebuild the clan!"
"Wangji…" Lan Xichen's voice was strained.
"Just because you're good friends doesn't mean you have the right to share my personal information with him! You can read me like an open book because you've been with me since birth, but being able to read a book is different from understanding it! You only see my expressions, brother—those I barely show—but you never understand my feelings, and you never will."
The air crackled with tension as Wangji continued, "You said Weiying is my mistake? If that's so, I'd make this mistake in every situation and every life because for me, Weiying is my light! I don't want to lose him at any cost!"
"Hánguāng-jūn—the person who holds light—and the light I hold that makes me shine so bright is my Weiying," he declared passionately. "He's my brightness that I've spread over the years."
Wangji's voice softened as he recalled his past pain. "When Weiying died, I didn't get punished by you; instead, I let you punish me! How hard would it have been for me to leave Gusu and become a rogue cultivator? Or just leave this world after losing Weiying? But no… I know Weiying would never want to see me this broken."
He paused to take a breath, feeling the weight of his scars—a constant reminder of his failure to protect his beloved.
"I punished myself to get these scars that will never leave me so that I would never forget how hard life was for Weiying in the burial mounds. Every time I feel them, I remember how I lost him because I didn't stand by him at the right time."
"To remember that the moon shines with the sun's light… You know all this time I've just mimicked Weiying's choices," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Every time I make a decision, I think: What would my Weiying think or do in this situation? That's why I've lived and helped people for so long—not joining Weiying in heaven—because I know he would never trust leaving our child alone in this clan."
"Wangji…" Xichen's eyes were filled with tears and guilt while Qiren stood speechless but seething with anger.
"I understand now that I can't leave A-Yuan here alone in your care or he will die just like other Wen people." The finality of Wangji's words hung heavily in the air as he faced his brother and uncle—unwavering and resolute in his love for Weiying.