Chapter Text
The results of the archery tournament come entirely as a surprise to everyone.
Well… almost everyone. Just a single glance could tell anyone that while He-zongzhu looks proud and a little smug, there is no trace of surprise in his features. There is also a triumphant cry of “I knew da-shixiong could do it!” from one of the Tingshan He disciples, practically reverberating in the stunned silence that follows the declaration of the results. So, in fact, it does not seem to have come as a surprise to them.
To everyone else, however…
It is well-known that the resources offered by the great clans simply cannot be matched by smaller clans. The greater clans have the most renowned techniques and the best teachers. They have built their reputations over centuries, striving to be the best of the best. It is these clans that most young cultivators aspire to join, and so, they have their pick of recruits and are free to pick the best of the best. To anyone in the cultivation world, it is unquestionable that the great clans reign supreme.
This is not merely limited to their wealth and prestige either— great clans are capable of expending more resources on training their disciples, on weaponry and learning material. Their territory spans over larger areas, and thus, their disciples may encounter a wider variety of night hunts, leading to greater experience. It is well known that no smaller clans could dare to match them. Try as they might, minor clans simply cannot offer what the great clans can.
The great clans also have far more disciples to bring to tournaments like this, and thus, far more opportunity for a disciple belonging to their clan to achieve victory. It is entirely unheard of for a disciple from a minor clan to outdo those from the great clans at tournaments. And yet.
It is quite understandable that even Wen Ruohan— a man largely known for being arrogant and unflappable— looks surprised at the announcement that the first place in the archery tournament has been won by the Head Disciple of the Tingshan He clan.
The rest of the top spots have been filled by heirs of the great clans. The second and third positions have been taken by Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen respectively. Jin Zixuan had come fourth. There had been a great deal of cheering from the Jins and subdued pleasure from the Lans as the results were declared. And yet, now, all eyes remain on Tingshan He, on Wei Wuxian who has performed a feat previously considered impossible.
The disciples of Tingshan He are clearly in a celebratory mood, cheering for their shixiong. One might wonder if they did not understand how big a ripple this was going to make, but it seemed unlikely. Rather, it seemed that they had anticipated this occurrence, and are, therefore, ignoring the shock of the other clans to celebrate their fortune. They surround Wei Wuxian, laughing and jumping around him, taking turns to cry praises to him. He, in turn, is accepting congratulations and hugs with laughter of his own and pats on the head to the youngest of his juniors. Even a few disciples from other minor clans step towards the exhilarated group to congratulate the victor. He accepts their well wishes with a cheerful wave and a bright smile, exchanging a few good-humored words with them.
The minor clan leaders look both excited and envious. Excited, because Tingshan He has just proven that it is possible for a minor clan to compete with the great clans and emerge victorious. It would be unsurprising if they considered this a collective victory on behalf of all minor clans. Envious, because it was not their clan, not one of their disciples, making such a name for themselves. For better or for worse, Tingshan He will be the talk of the cultivation world for the near future, and it is easy to tell that several minor clan leaders— who look like they are sucking on particularly sour lemons— wish that it was their clan at the center of such talk.
Among the leaders of the major clans, Wen Ruohan’s surprise has been replaced with intrigue, and his sharp eyes are moving between Wei Wuxian and his clan leader. It might be that he is contemplating the possibility of poaching the disciple— he has been known to recruit talented individuals to bolster his own clan, even sometimes granting them the Wen name. There is also a chance that his interest is… less benign, but no one will speak that aloud for fear of angering him. Jin Guangshan, whose face had showcased utter incredulity at his son being beaten out by a complete nobody, takes notice of this and his own expression becomes contemplative. Jiang Fengmian looks like he has seen a ghost, but manages to pull his face into a smile.
The silence is broken by Nie Mingjue laughing heartily. “Great kid you’ve got there, He-zongzhu,” he declares.
He-zongzhu merely inclines his head, accepting the praise.
That breaks whatever spell Jiang Fengmian is under. He shakes his head and turns to He-zongzhu. “Congratulations,” he says warmly. “You must be proud of your disciple.”
Even now, as more and more clan leaders turn to him, He-zongzhu looks triumphant, and obviously pleased with his disciple. “I am,” he agrees, smiling slightly. “Very proud.”
As though on cue, Wei Wuxian looks back at his clan leader, and whatever he sees makes his smile widen impossibly. He nods, and He-zongzhu nods back at him with a smile of his own. His smile lingers as he watches over his celebrating disciples. Even as the clan leaders begin to leave one by one so their disciples can gather to them, even as He-zongzhu himself goes to join his disciples who fold him into their celebrations, the look of pride does not fade from his face.
The first proper glimpse Lan Wangji gets of Wei Wuxian is only after he manages to extricate himself from the collective embrace of his juniors. The disciples part for him, allowing him to step apart from them and that is when Lan Wangji gets his first glimpse of Wei Wuxian. He is suddenly furiously glad he had not come across the boy during the tournament itself, because he is certainly a… distracting sight.
Something about Wei Wuxian is dangerously alluring. Something Lan Wangji cannot quite put his finger on. Of course, Wei Wuxian is strikingly beautiful, but Lan Wangji has never been one to be moved by beauty. No, rather, what catches his attention is the mirth in Wei Wuxian’s smile, in the intelligence in his eyes, in the way he speaks to the rest of the disciples, congratulating them for their performance. As Lan Wangji keeps watching, he notices how Wei Wuxian accepts the adulation of his juniors as it is his due, but he does not fail to encourage them as well.
He is friendly, evidently. Even as Lan Wangji watches, the Baling Ouyang heir goes up to congratulate Wei Wuxian, as do a few disciples from a motley of minor clans. His smile, as he accepts well wishes and returns some of his own does not fade, instead growing brighter by the moment. Lan Wangji cannot tear his eyes away even as the subject of his… scrutiny? casually slings an arm around a younger disciple’s shoulder and walks towards his clan leader, as he begins to speak to He-zongzhu, who looks beyond pleased at his disciple’s performance.
Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian and feels something that isn’t quite curiosity. Something that isn’t quite interest. No, it is something different from those things.
He finds that he cannot bring himself to look away.
The first time Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian is in Qishan, a year after the tournament where he had turned so many heads. He, much like Lan Wangji, is attending the mockery of an indoctrination that the Wens are conducting.
Over the past year, he has, of course, heard of the various advancements in cultivation Wei Wuxian has made. Word of his inventions— inventions that help both the common folk and cultivators— have spread far and wide. He is widely considered to be a genius and a prodigy, and the Tingshan He clan appears to eagerly foster his talent, supporting his endeavors and backing him up. At three separate villages Lan Wangji had travelled to on night hunts, he is told that their problems have already been dealt with by Wei Wuxian— and his name is often whispered in awe or gratitude.
With a broken leg and a burnt home, with his worry about the fate of his brother, his father… Lan Wangji certainly has other things to worry about, but he cannot help noticing that Wei Wuxian heads the Tingshan He disciples who have come to Qishan. It is well known that He-zongzhu is yet to marry and father a child— having only taken up the mantle of clan leader recently and at a very young age— and that until he does such a thing, he has declared his head disciple, Wei Wuxian, to be his heir. It is highly unorthodox— ever since Wen Mao, the inheritance of clan leadership has only passed through bloodlines. A man may name a distant relative as his heir if he has no children, but He-zongzhu has chosen instead, to defy tradition and name Wei Wuxian his heir.
That decision has now resulted in Wei Wuxian having to be in Qishan, attending this indoctrination along with the rest of them. However, from how fiercely protective Wei Wuxian is of his juniors, something tells Lan Wangji that he might have been here even if he was not He-zongzhu’s heir. Wei Wuxian would not have been persuaded to send his shidi to the indoctrination without accompanying them.
The Wens keep them isolated with only members from their own clans for the most part, so the first time he catches sight of Wei Wuxian at the indoctrination is at the first night hunt Wen Chao leads them on. Wei Wuxian and a group of other disciples are walking right in front of him, and it is impossible to ignore him, when he is joking irreverently with another boy from his clan and the disciples around them fail to hold back their laughter.
It is much the same every time Lan Wangji sees him, Wei Wuxian joking and flirting constantly, seemingly to set his fellow disciples at ease. It annoys Lan Wangji a little at first, the way he acts as though this is simply an opportunity for them all to socialize rather than a way for the Wen clan to hold high profile hostages. Perhaps for the other disciples there, it makes the indoctrination feel lighter— as he had overheard a girl confessing to her shijie one day— but there is too much on his shoulders for it to work on him.
The first time they meet properly is because of Wei Wuxian calling for himself incessantly.
“Lan-er-gongzi,” he calls as he rushes past disciples of various other clans who had been between the two of them. “Lan-er-gongzi!”
Lan Wangji does not respond, nor does he stop. He knows that if he stops or turns, he will find it nearly impossible to continue walking again.
“Wangji-xiong,” Wei Wuxian calls cheerfully as he finally catches up to Lan Wangji, offering him a bright, beautiful smile that makes him clench his fist involuntarily. Wei Wuxian does not seem to notice. “Wangji-xiong, don’t you think it’s awful how they’re making us walk miles and miles with no breaks?” he asks in a mournful tone.
Lan Wangji does not respond. He does not stop walking or even turn to look at Wei Wuxian. He focuses on putting one foot in front of another over and over and over again.
Wei Wuxian is not dissuaded by the lack of response. “Wangji-xiong,” he says in a quiter, more urgent voice, “Your leg must hurt a lot. Do you want to lean on me?”
Lan Wangji merely glowers straight ahead. “No,” he grits out sharply, hoping the other boy will leave.
Wei Wuxian, surprisingly, is not dissuaded by this either. Instead, he tries again. “Wangji-xiong, I’m here to help, you know?” he says. Then, his voice takes a mischievous tone. If Lan Wangji had known him better, he would have taken it as a warning. “Ah, Lan-er-gongzi, is it that you want to be carried instead?”
This is what makes Lan Wangji snap his head towards Wei Wuxian and level him with a scorching glare. “Shameless!” he snaps. He is not the rest of the disciples at this indoctrination, so easily soothed by Wei Wuxian’s teasing and jokes. He does not have time for such frivolity.
Wei Wuxian, for his part, does not look the least bit repentant. “Fine, fine,” he says, his arms raised in deference, but his expression is far from contrite. “If Lan-er-gongzi wants to be left alone, I’ll leave him alone!”
With a last bright grin, he skips forward, catching up to some of the female disciples from a minor clan who are walking a little ahead of them.
“Mianmian!” Wei Wuxian cries as he approaches one of them. “There you are! I’ve been waiting to see you again! See, I was wondering…”
Lan Wangji forces himself to look away as Wei Wuxian begins to flirt with the girl he had called Mianmian, even as her companions break out into giggles. His fists clench of their own volition. Shameless, he thinks to himself, and stomps down on the little voice in his head that suggests he is jealous. That is an utterly ridiculous thought. After all, he barely knows Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian passes him once again that day, on their way back after the “night hunt” they had been on. He does not stop to talk, his sleeve merely brushing against La Wangji’s as he passes. It is only after he has left that Lan Wangji realizes that his sleeve feels slightly heavier than usual. He reaches inside, and his fingers close around a pouch. It is fragrant when he removes it from his sleeve, and upon opening it, he discovers it to be full of medicinal herbs.
Lan Wangji runs his fingers over the pouch gently. He remembers the embroidered design on it from the minor clan disciple Wei Wuxian had been talking to— flirting with— earlier, the one he had called Mianmian.
Unbidden, he looks up, only to see Wei Wuxian looking at him, turning back despite walking forward to join his clan’s disciples. When he notices Lan Wangji looking, he breaks into a broad smile, and winks at him, before turning back to his martial siblings, engaging himself in conversation with them.
Lan Wangji’s eyes flutter closed as he tightens his grip on the pouch, unwillingly charmed.
Shameless, he thinks again. This time, it is directed at himself.