Mistaken Love And Hate

9. A Debt Too Many

Lan Wangji sat alone in his study, the weight of the new knowledge pressing down on him like a physical force. The letter had come unexpectedly, slipped through the hands of a servant, and as he read its contents, he felt the world tilt beneath him. It was a record, a ledger, detailing every payment, every coin spent from the Lan family's coffers, intended to cover Wei Wuxian's education, his living expenses, and the support that Lan Qiren had promised him after his father's death.

He reread the letter, the figures on the page blurring as the truth began to settle into his bones. Wei Wuxian had not been living a life of luxury, had not been living as the opportunist Lan Wangji had imagined. The Omega had worked tirelessly, from dawn until late into the night, scraping by on meager wages to ensure that Lan Wangji never went without. There were no grand gifts, no indulgences, no luxury. Just the sacrifice of a man who had made the impossible possible for the sake of someone else's future.

Wei Wuxian had not been the gold-digger he'd been accused of being. He had been the one to take the burden, to support the very boy who had grown to resent him, all while barely keeping his head above water.

Lan Wangji's hand shook as he lowered the letter, the ink on the paper seeming to blur in the dim light. A thousand memories surged forward, each one tainted by his misunderstanding, by his harsh judgments. He thought of the days he had watched Wei Wuxian struggle with his emotions, of the moments he had seen the older man turn away, hiding his exhaustion, his sorrow, and the deep-set sadness he had carried like a second skin.

The anger he had once felt—anger that Wei Wuxian was using him, taking advantage of his position—felt like a lie now. The truth was so different, so much harsher than he had imagined. Wei Wuxian had never sought to take anything from him. Instead, he had given everything, sacrificing his own peace for the sake of Lan Wangji's future.

In the silence of his study, the coldness in his chest began to soften. But there was still so much to unravel. How could he have been so blind? How could he have allowed his pride and anger to cloud his judgment for so long? The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, and it lodged deep in his throat, choking him.

The door creaked open, and Lan Xichen entered, his expression cautious, aware of the heavy atmosphere in the room.

"Wangji?" Lan Xichen's voice was gentle, but the question hung in the air—what was it that had so deeply shaken his younger brother?

Lan Wangji didn't respond immediately. He reached for the letter again, thrusting it into his brother's hands without a word. Lan Xichen unfolded it slowly, reading the contents with growing disbelief. When he finished, he looked at Lan Wangji, his eyes wide with understanding.

"So, it was all true," Lan Xichen murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wei Wuxian... He sacrificed so much, even when he had nothing to give."

"I didn't see it," Lan Wangji rasped, his voice hollow with regret. "I never saw how much he was giving."

Lan Xichen's gaze softened, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on Lan Wangji's shoulder. "No one did, Wangji. Not until now."

They stood there in silence, the weight of their shared realizations heavy between them. Lan Wangji felt the stirrings of something inside him—an unsettling mixture of guilt, shame, and an unfamiliar pang of something else. Regret, perhaps, or longing. It was a feeling he had buried for years, one that had been too painful to face, too complicated to name.

"I must find him," Lan Wangji muttered, his voice tight, as though the words were foreign in his mouth.

"You will," Lan Xichen replied. "But remember, it's not just about finding him. It's about understanding him. And understanding yourself in the process."