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It’s time to face the facts: his father is a predator.
A predator! One that preys on young, innocent men that have barely come of age like himself! The scandal of it all! The impropriety! And of all people to commit such a felony—his very own father!
Lan Sizhui tries to think about this logically: his father, the venerable and high-esteemed Hanguang-Jun, the saviour that appears wherever the chaos is—he has done so much good for the common folk, for this world, and rightfully speaking, he is entitled to fall in love with anyone who he wants. He deserves it. Throw that man a bone! He’s been on his own since Lan Sizhui can remember, really, and if his father has finally found his happiness in a… twenty-one year old twink, Lan Sizhui should leave it alone. Give it some rest. A-die deserves love, too!
It’s just—it’s just—did it really have to be someone only three years older than him in age? Whatever happened to the half-your-age-plus-seven-years rule? The half-your-age-plus-seven-years rule! It’s never failed anyone! Lan Sizhui’s only eighteen years old, and even he knows of it! A-die really should have known better.
See, it wouldn’t be so bad if Mo Xuanyu didn’t look as young as he did. But he does! One look at that man and he just screams helpless twink. Lan Sizhui can’t even give his father the benefit of the doubt even if he wants to. Mo Xuanyu stands next to the almighty, thirty-five year old Hanguang-Jun, and he’s dwarfed instantly in comparison. His father couldn’t even rely on the excuse of plausible deniability, of ever having mistaken Mo Xuanyu’s age; he would have known right off the bat!
It really, really wouldn’t be so bad if Mo Xuanyu’s big doe eyes weren’t further accentuated by the red makeup he adorns, or the way his tiny waist easily disappears from sight whenever his father’s hand covers it. Yes, hand—singular, not plural, because one hand of his father’s is already enough to hide the circumference of Mo Xuanyu’s body.
(Lan Sizhui’s never even seen a cultivator so small. Even the tiniest Lan women in the sect have waists bigger than… that.)
Look, all things considered, Lan Sizhui doesn’t have a problem with Mo Xuanyu, not really. He’s heard way too much about the poor boy to vilify him in any way; the boy’s been kicked out of the Jin sect due to some… problematic understandings about his gay sexuality, victimised within the only household he’s been left with (the Mo family), and now, with his entire family dead, Mo Xuanyu has nothing left going on for him but a half-developed golden core and some flimsy cultivation skills that he can hardly rely on for survival.
Of course, we can’t discount the fact that he’s pretty. Because, hello, Lan Sizhui has eyes, too, okay. And he’s not his father’s child for nothing. Yes, the Lan sect rules specifically dictate not to covet or lust after beautiful things, that’s only superficiality at its best and Lan Sizhui has been raised better than that—and it’s not as if Lan Sizhui actually lusts after Mo Xuanyu, no no, Lan Sizhui has no romantic interest in the boy at all, especially not when he’s being coveted by his father, oh dear lord the horror of even entertaining such a thought—but still. Still. He can see the appeal. He understands, somewhat, why his father might—might!—have taken a fond liking to him.
Mo Xuanyu is attractive, the way the sight of an injured rabbit may draw you in, with all of their purity and goodness and complete helplessness that drives you to want to care for them, and protect them, with every fibre of your being.
But that doesn’t mean his father should. Again, the half-your-age-plus-seven-years rule has been firmly neglected here, and Lan Sizhui’s not sure why. His dearly beloved father, always maintaining some sense of propriety and upholding the highest of all morals—he had somehow taken one look at Mo Xuanyu and decided: yes, I hereby choose this boy to be my undoing, please tie him atop his donkey and ignore him as he bawls his eyes out, and when he becomes too tired to protest any further, kindly drag him inside my room!
It had given Lan Sizhui chills to hear that. Chills, he tells you! Wasn’t this what they called forced kidnapping? Lan Sizhui had even become accomplice to it. Taking advantage of the weak! This was not what they were taught to do in the Gusu Lan sect. Had his father finally snapped? Surely this must be what they called a mid-life crisis? Surely all that repression hadn’t done his father any good, all these years?
Yes, alright, fine, his father had reasoned the ‘abduction’ well: it is for Mo Xuanyu’s own good that he is brought back here, because Sect Leader Jiang does not take too kindly to those who practice demonic cultivation. But all Lan Sizhui hears (and sees, from his father’s piercing golden gaze) is: yes, I would like to feast on this twenty-one year old twink as a meal, please deliver him right into my jingshi and leave him there with a red bow tied around him for my own devouring, please and thank you.
His father has never, never, never let anybody into the jingshi. Never! And now one look at this small twink and he’s suddenly thrown all reason out of the window?! What the hell? As nice as Mo Xuanyu’s derrière is, was it really that worth it?
(It was.)
Oh, it gives him the shudders. He wants a-die to be happy, he really does. But at the expense of… at the expense of… at the expense of an innocent? Poor Mo Xuanyu! He is but a sheep, passed from one wolf’s hands to another. A hard life he has suffered, first under the hands of the Jin, then the Mo family, and now finally under the perverted gaze of a certain Hanguang-Jun…
Help, he thinks to himself, as he reluctantly pulls a wildly sobbing Mo Xuanyu into the confines of his father’s jingshi.
I think my dad plans to fuck someone my age, and I don’t know how to stop it!!!!!!!!
All around him, people have begun talking. Hanguang-Jun has lost it!! He’s taken a young boy half his age to be his lover!! Okay, the rumours have grossly exaggerated the severity of the situation, but the spirit is still there, and Lan Sizhui’s far too mortified by the truth to even try and defend his father from all of it.
Because really, a-die did forcefully take a boy home—and into his bedroom—just because he thought the boy was pretty. Pretty! What the hell! Even Lan Jingyi has more self-control than that. And Jingyi’s practically horny for everybody.
“Okay, but can we blame Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Jingyi asks, during their afternoon scheduled meal, at one of the dining tables in the room. “Mo Xuanyu’s very attractive.”
…Scrap the part about Jingyi having self-control. Clearly, Lan Sizhui always gives him far more credit than he deserves.
“Jingyi, attractiveness does not warrant forceful kidnapping and… any other forceful acts,” Lan Sizhui mournfully says, too respectful to elaborate on the latter. He has to help keep Mo Xuanyu’s dignity intact, for what it’s worth. Even if it must have already been ripped into shreds by now. By his very own father!
“Look, I’m just saying. If Hanguang-Jun wants to give a good dickin’, then he deserves to give a good dickin’,” Lan Jingyi always picks up all these wild slang from the common folk during their night hunts that Lan Sizhui usually ignores, but this time it’s just way too crude for him to stomach, especially when his father’s concerned. “Your dad deserves it. Let him live! We’ve never seen him show any interest in anybody. I, for one, am glad that Hanguang-Jun is finally living out the scandalous bachelor life he deserves. Who knows, you might even get yourself a new mother!”
Oh no no no. Oh hell no.
Lan Sizhui’s never even entertained such a thought, up to that extent, and now that Jingyi has even raised that up to be a potential possibility, Lan Sizhui… oh my god. Lan Sizhui wants to shrivel up and die.
This surpasses ‘my father is fucking a boy my age’ hell levels. This is diving straight into ‘my father wants to marry a boy my age’ hell!!!!!
“Lan Jingyi, I am not getting a new mother,” Lan Sizhui’s almost in tears. “Mo Xuanyu is our age. He’s only three years older than us! He’s basically one of us!”
“Exactly. Hot and young mothers I’d like to f—”
“LAN JINGYI!”
“I am just saying,” Lan Jingyi snorts out, because as usual, he never thinks before he speaks. “Be happy for your father! It might be lust, it might be love, but it might just be your dad’s only chance at happiness. Live and let live. Doesn’t your dad always clam up when you ask about your a-niang? Maybe Mo Xuanyu’s the one who can help him recover from all of that trauma!”
Live and let live, Jingyi says. That fool.
Still, as much as Lan Sizhui loathes to admit it, Jingyi is right. Lan Sizhui does not know much about his mother. He knows he once had birth parents, yes, but they passed too early on for him to harbour any recollection of them. And while Hanguang-Jun may have adopted him not long after, he knows a-die had only done so out of obligation to a certain a-niang that he doesn’t know much about. His father never talks about this supposed a-niang he has, and refuses to divulge too much for reasons that Lan Sizhui thinks has more to do with him, and not Sizhui.
There is a hollowness within his father that Sizhui will never be able to understand. He knows! He sees it in his eyes, feels it from the depth of his hearts. If anyone has any inkling of the pain his father keeps to himself, it’s Lan Sizhui. It’s Lan Sizhui, who his father has so dutifully taken care of and attended to since young, desperate to hold onto the one last trace of an a-niang that is no longer part of this world. He does not take offence to it. He knows his father loves him to the deaths because of it. While Lan Sizhui will never understand why, or how; he knows he’s the one last connection his a-die has to the love of his life.
The love of his life—that had surely not been a twenty-one year old twink.
Yes, Lan Sizhui’s back to harping on it again. And he’ll harp on it until he understands the real reason why! How the hell did his father, with all of his tragic sentimentality and beautiful, poetic, otherworldly love for his mother, turn into a feral beast at the sight of a demonic cultivating, almost pocket-sized twink?! He fears more for the safety and well-being of Mo Xuanyu in his father’s clutches than anything else, honestly—his father is a big man, and he can take care of himself.
Poor Mo Xuanyu, who has to contend with his domineering father, with no capability or strength to escape from it…
Oh, Lan Sizhui’s sad just thinking about it. He has to save him from his father’s oppressive clutches. He has to.
Ever since Mo Xuanyu was (forcibly) taken back to the Gusu Lan sect, he has never left the jingshi once. Not once! His father still conducts his teachings as per normal, but Mo Xuanyu is always nowhere in sight. Lan Sizhui knows he must still be held captive in the jingshi, probably with his tender wrists bound to the bed and a body that’s squirming and writhing, coupled with his prettily blushing cheeks—
Anyway! If anyone’s going to play the role of saviour around here, it has to be Lan Sizhui. No one would suspect the captor’s very own son. Nobody. Lan Sizhui also has readily access to the jingshi, has had it ever since he was a young boy, and so no one bats an eyelid when he’s found skulking around the perimeter of the jingshi and attempting to listen in for any cries of help—of the desperate kind—emitting from within.
That’s how he so easily comes to eavesdrop on one of the worst conversations he’s ever had the privilege of being privy to.
“...Hanguang-Jun! If you continue to keep me here, I will take advantage of you for real. I will! Don’t underestimate me!”
It’s Mo Xuanyu speaking. Oh, the poor thing. He’s trying to put on such a brave front, even though he must be scared out of his wits. Who wouldn’t be, when contending with a man fourteen years his senior? As small as he may be, he speaks in a tone that’s nothing but fiery, and Lan Sizhui can only admire his tenacity.
Mo Xuanyu, you keep up that fighting spirit! Your junior is cheering you on!
“Go ahead. I am waiting,” comes his father’s voice, low and bellowing.
A-die, Lan Sizhui sniffles to himself. How far have you fallen, exactly...
“Hanguang-Jun! Come any closer and I will… I will…” Mo Xuanyu trails off, weakly and at a loss.
Mo gong zi, Lan Sizhui sobs. You’re doing your best! I see it!
“I see. Well, when you’ve decided what you want to do to me, let me know. I’ll be waiting.”
Seriously, a-die! Who made you into the bold, ferocious monster you’ve become today?! Can you even be saved at this point?!
Lan Sizhui does not notice the ever-looming shadow of his father’s against the paper blinds until it’s too late, and by the time he remembers to hide himself back into an indiscernible corner, the doors of the jingshi slide open, and he comes face-to-face with his father.
Lan Wangji flashes him a momentary look of surprise, but shrugs it off when he begins to hear loud, dramatic wailing coming from the back of the jingshi, like it’s a sound he’s already growing too used to. He looks fondful of it, even. Lan Sizhui swears he even sees the smallest hint of the most sadistic smile tugging upon his father’s lips…
“Sizhui, you’re here. Will you go down to Caiyi Town for me and fetch back two jars of Emperor’s Smile? I’m currently too occupied to leave my station.”
A—Alcohol? Oh, no. He’s even resorting to using alcohol to subdue Mo Xuanyu, now? Just how far does his father plan to take this?
“A...A-die,” Lan Sizhui chokes out. Tears are welling up in his eyes. He has been so thoroughly disillusioned by his father’s antics. “I don’t need a new mother, so please… please spare Mo gong zi.”
Hanguang-Jun stares back at him, blankly. “...Sizhui?”
“A-die, please be kinder to Mo Xuanyu,” Lan Sizhui continues, woefully. “He’s only a couple years older than me.”
Hanguang-Jun smirks. That wretched old man—he actually smirks at the very mention of Mo Xuanyu being around Sizhui’s age!
“Die!” Lan Sizhui cries out, in pure horror. He’s never seen anything like it!
His father’s officially beyond saving!
“Sizhui, two jars of Emperor’s Smile, please,” his father emphasises. The crying in the jingshi is getting even louder at this point, and it desperately demands for his attention.
“Lan Sizhui! Lan Sizhui, is that you? Help me! Your Hanguang-Jun is bullying me!”
“Mo gong zi…” Lan Sizhui moans out. He would, if he could!
Lan Wangji frowns, bringing his son back to focus on the task at hand. “Sizhui, Emperor’s Smile. If anyone questions you, just tell them I sent you.”
“A-die…”
“Sizhui, be good.”
But I really, really, really, don’t want a twenty-one year old twink as my new mother, a-die!!!!!!
Eventually, everything comes to light, and Lan Sizhui learns the truth behind Mo Xuanyu—and that the soul currently residing in his body is not Mo Xuanyu as he knows it, but the a-niang his father has spent years and years painfully mourning for.
Everything inexplicable suddenly makes sense, and Lan Sizhui is immensely relieved. His well-esteemed father; not the sexual predator he’d thought him to be! He hadn’t been lusting for young boys of Sizhui’s age at all! Only for a Wei Wuxian in any shape or form, imaginable. If Wei Wuxian had come back in the form of a turtle, he’s sure his father would have loved him all the same.
It’s all very romantic, really. His parents have a love story for the ages. They’re truly meant to be. Lan Sizhui’s almost ashamed he assumed the worst out of his father.
Although, it does still take quite a bit of an adjustment, to be able to speak normally to Wei Wuxian in Mo Xuanyu’s body—a body that’s still impossibly slender and tiny, and one that has Lan Sizhui still slightly nervous to be interacting with, knowing the way his fellow juniors lust after him.
(He will never, ever, ever ‘fess up that he, too, once imagined Mo Xuanyu’s writhing body in Lan Wangji’s bed, even if it’d been in the least sexual manner, possible.)
Word spreads around quick and fast, and soon the heavy-handed rumours of Hanguang-Jun is consorting with a boy half his age!! change into Hanguang-Jun is consorting with Yiling Laozu who has risen from the dead in the form of a twenty-one year old Jin heir’s body!! which isn’t really that much better, but still far more improved than, uh, the former.
And while things have vastly changed since Wei Wuxian’s revival came to light, one thing that hasn’t has been Lan Jingyi’s horniness, which has doubled since he got to know Wei qianbei even more personally.
“M, I, L, F,” Lan Jingyi mouths to Lan Sizhui one breezy afternoon, during another one of their regularly scheduled meals. “What did I say?”
Lan Sizhui always knew Jingyi’s foul mouth was always going to backfire on him one day.
“Uh, Jingyi—”
No one can say Lan Sizhui didn’t try to help.
“Yes, Jingyi,” his father’s very displeased voice looms from behind, as Wei Wuxian hangs off his shoulder laughingly, like the twenty-one year old trophy wife he was always meant to be. “What were you saying about Wei Ying?”
To no one’s surprise, Lan Jingyi’s not allowed to be explicitly left alone in the company of Wei Wuxian from that day forth, for some all-mystifying reason.