Mistaken Love And Hate

2. The Perfect Heir

Lan Xichen's days under Lan Qiren's roof were marked by an unrelenting routine of discipline and expectation. His mornings began with meditation at dawn, followed by hours of rigorous study, sword training, and the meticulous practice of the Lan family's tenets. The estate, with its grand halls and manicured gardens, was a picture of perfection, but to Xichen, it felt like a gilded cage.

Lan Qiren's voice echoed through the training hall one afternoon as Xichen held his stance during sword practice. "Straighten your back, Xichen. The Lan name demands precision."

"Yes, Shufu," Xichen replied, his muscles aching but his voice steady. He dared not falter, knowing his uncle's approval came sparingly, if at all.

Though Lan Qiren was never cruel, his expectations were a constant weight on Xichen's shoulders. As the years passed, Xichen grew into the ideal heir—a young man of grace, discipline, and honor. Yet, beneath his serene exterior, loneliness gnawed at him. He missed the warmth of family, the laughter and light that had once filled their home before it fractured.

Occasionally, formal letters from his younger brother, Lan Wangji, arrived. They were sparse in detail, written with the kind of distant politeness that Xichen found heartbreaking. Dear Xiongzhang, I am well. My studies continue. They revealed nothing of Wangji's life, of the years spent under Wei Wuxian's care. Xichen responded faithfully, trying to bridge the chasm between them, but his letters often went unanswered. Ten years passed this way, each silent year deepening the gulf between the brothers.

Far from the Lan estate, Lan Wangji's childhood unfolded in stark contrast. Wei Wuxian's two-room apartment was a humble, cramped space, its walls thin enough to hear the neighbors arguing late into the night. Zhou Ma, the aging servant assigned to Wangji, was a constant presence, though her disdain for Wei Wuxian poisoned the air.

"It's disgraceful," Zhou Ma would mutter while sweeping the floor, her words sharp enough to cut. "A child like you shouldn't grow up in a place like this. The Lan family deserves better."

Wangji, barely five when he first heard those words, absorbed them in silence. He watched as Wei Wuxian, ever patient, bore the whispers and sneers with a weary smile. Despite the lack of funds—Lan Qiren had ensured no financial support reached them—Wei Wuxian refused to abandon Wangji.

"We'll make it work, A-Zhan," Wei Wuxian would say, tousling Wangji's hair as he prepared for another long day of work. "The world's full of possibilities. We just have to grab them."

And he did. Wei Wuxian juggled multiple jobs, from teaching music lessons to crafting intricate calligraphy pieces for wealthy patrons. On weekends, he worked at a restaurant, saving every coin to send Wangji to the best schools. He bartered favors for piano lessons, helped Wangji join extracurricular activities, and encouraged friendships with children from noble families like the Nies and the Songs.

Wangji grew up with a foot in two worlds—knowing both the struggles of modest living and the refinement expected of a Lan heir. Though he rarely spoke of it, he saw the sacrifices Wei Wuxian made. He noticed the exhaustion in Wei Wuxian's eyes, the way his hands trembled after long hours of work. And though Zhou Ma's venomous words planted seeds of resentment, there were moments when Wangji couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the man who gave so much.

When the brothers finally reunited, Lan Wangji was fifteen. The occasion was a family gathering at the Lan estate, a formal affair orchestrated by Lan Qiren. Wangji stepped into the grand hall, his posture straight and his face calm, but his heart raced as his gaze fell upon Lan Xichen for the first time in a decade.

"A-Zhan," Xichen said softly, stepping forward with a smile that wavered as he took in his brother's unfamiliar face. Wangji had grown taller, his features sharp and composed, a picture of quiet dignity. But the warmth Xichen remembered from their childhood was absent, replaced by an unreadable coolness.