Return of The Yiling Laozu

Reverse Empathy

"...Very well."

Wei Wuxian grinned. "Knew you loved your nephew."

Lan Qiren glared. "I am doing this for Wangji. Not for you."

Wei Wuxian shrugged. "Fine by me."

---

Wei Wuxian sat cross-legged in front of Lan Wangji, fingers grazing against his wrist as he took a slow, centering breath. Lan Qiren sat beside them, back straight, eyes watchful.

"This will feel like dreaming," Wei Wuxian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Except I'll be there with you."

Lan Wangji did not respond. His breath was steady but shallow, his face impassive.

Wei Wuxian pressed his fingers firmly against Lan Wangji’s pulse and shut his eyes.

He reached out—not with his hands, but with something deeper. The connection sparked like a thread being woven between their minds.

And then—

The world tilted.

Darkness surged around him, thick and suffocating. The air was heavy, filled with the echoes of distant cries, the weight of grief pressing against his chest.

Wei Wuxian braced himself.

"Lan Zhan… where are you?"

Somewhere in this endless night, a child knelt alone in the snow.

The voice came softly, a second whisper laced with quiet authority, threading into Wei Wuxian’s thoughts like a guiding hand.

"Too far forward," Lan Qiren’s voice echoed in his mind. "Move back. Before the resentment took root."

Wei Wuxian exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes, willing the shadows to retreat, reaching back—back through the tangled threads of time, unraveling the grief that had wrapped around Lan Wangji’s soul.

The cold remained, but something shifted.

When he opened his eyes, the snow no longer clung to the ground. The air was crisp but not yet biting, the first flurries of winter swirling lazily in the fading light. The Jingshi stood before him, its wooden doors still worn with age, but less lifeless.

The door creaked, opening just enough for two small figures to slip inside.

Wei Wuxian turned, his breath catching.

Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen—tiny, bundled in thick winter robes—stepped through the threshold, their small feet barely making a sound against the polished wood.

Wei Wuxian’s perspective wavered. A moment later, he was inside.

The room was sparse. More so than he remembered. The fireplace crackled weakly, its warmth barely holding back the cold that seeped in through the wooden walls. A woven mat lay near the hearth, and in the center of the room, a woman knelt with a smile that transformed the space.

Lady Lan.

Wei Wuxian had never seen her before, not like this. Her beauty was striking, but there was a softness to it, a gentleness that made her seem untouched by the rigid rules of the Lan Clan. Her hair was loosely tied, a few wisps falling over her shoulder as she beckoned the two boys forward.

Lan Xichen grinned, his tiny hands clinging to his brother’s wrist. "Mother! We made it before the snow got too heavy!"

Lan Wangji, no older than five or six, nodded with wide, serious eyes. "Huan Ge ran too fast," he murmured, but there was no scolding in his voice, only the quiet observation of a child who followed rules as naturally as breathing.