Return of The Yiling Laozu

Reverse Empathy

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then down at the toy, his fingers tightening around it. Confusion flickered across his small face. He turned the rabbit over in his hands, but his movements were stiff, uncertain. He had never been given something so frivolous before.

Xichen, ever the patient older brother, leaned in with a reassuring smile. "Here, Wangji, like this."

He gently nudged the rabbit forward, letting it rock on its rounded base. The toy wobbled, then tipped back upright.

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened. His small fingers mimicked the motion hesitantly, nudging the rabbit again, watching as it teetered and bounced. His expression shifted, his lips parting slightly.

Wei Wuxian almost gasped.

Joy.

Pure, unguarded joy.

It was fleeting, but it was there.

Lan Qiren’s voice came again, a mere whisper. "Watch closely."

The scene rippled.

The market’s lively noise continued, but something was wrong. Wei Wuxian scanned the crowd. Lan Wangji was no longer at Lan Qiren’s side.

Wei Wuxian stiffened. He’s lost.

His feet moved before he could think. He followed the invisible pull that led him away from the bustling stalls, away from the color and warmth, down a narrow alley where the shadows stretched long.

And then—he stopped.

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched.

A tiny figure sat curled in the corner, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around himself. His robes were torn at the hem, his cheeks smudged with dirt. His eyes, dark and wary, were locked in a silent battle of wills with a pack of stray dogs.

Him.

A smaller version of himself.

Little Wei Wuxian, no older than five, trembling but stubborn, biting his lip to stop it from quivering.

Wei Wuxian swallowed hard. Why would Lan Qiren bring me to this memory?

A quiet shuffle of fabric.

Lan Wangji appeared at the alley’s entrance, still clutching his wooden sword. His eyes darted between the cowering child and the growling dogs. His lips pressed together in determination.

With one swift step, he raised his toy sword and charged.

"Go!" he ordered, his voice high-pitched but firm. "Leave him alone!"

The dogs hesitated at first, then yelped as Lan Wangji swung his sword again. They scattered, tails tucked, disappearing into the night.

Silence followed.

Little Wei Wuxian sniffled, curling in on himself. The fight in him was gone. The fear had finally caught up.

Lan Wangji hesitated, then crouched beside him, setting down the wooden sword.

A beat passed.

Then, he held out the toy rabbit.

Wei Wuxian’s breath caught.

The younger version of himself peeked up through messy hair, eyes red but curious. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, fingers curling around the small wooden gift.

Lan Wangji didn’t pull away.

Little Wei Wuxian stared at it, his lip trembling again—this time not from fear. Then, with a small, grateful sob, he flung his tiny arms around Lan Wangji’s neck.