"All in Gusu...." She trails off, staring at him, the shock plainly written on her face, rare for her. That long. It wasn't long ago for her but with a-Yuan's age, and what Wei Wuxian's told her, she knows it was years ago for Lan Wangji. For Wei Wuxian, even with the years where he was dead.
He had been married before the war even broke out. Had he known, what might have changed. Not just for the Wens— she's reached her peace with what happened; from the moment Meng Yao stabbed Wen Ruohan, their fates had been set— but for Wei Wuxian. For a-Yuan, raised by more than just the Lan clan.
"People rarely say what they need to say." She had said the important things almost too late, even. And matters of the heart are hard to communicate, a fact she knew even before the war, even before everything that happened to them. But it's easy to find the anger and annoyance at Lan Wangji, especially when Wei Wuxian sounds so torn about it. Sure, he hides it well, but she learned to read his tone under pressure; it remains even now. "But we can make him talk, I'm sure. I can stab him a few times with my needles and we can interrogate him. Tell him about the importance of communicating such things to the people involved. Especially since that also impacts Sizhui."
(She realizes: if they are married— thrice over, and she wasn't even invited to one of the ceremonies— that makes Wei Wuxian a-Yuan's other parent. How would his life have changed, indeed.)
She grips her cup, forcing her hands to stay steady, something she can do no matter the conversation or how she feels. "I've never seen him drunk, but please, inform me the next time you drink." She wants to see that, just to see him at less than his best. Something close to bitterness swells in her and she stares into the depths of her cup. It's close to oolong but not quite, and it makes her miss the teas from Qishan, the homesickness making her choke for a second before she lifts the cup and sips.
"Wei Ying," she says, after another moment of silence. She considers her words and changes her mind on what to say. "If you don't want to be married, you can divorce. Do they have a ritual for that?" She'll help if needed.
no subject
He had been married before the war even broke out. Had he known, what might have changed. Not just for the Wens— she's reached her peace with what happened; from the moment Meng Yao stabbed Wen Ruohan, their fates had been set— but for Wei Wuxian. For a-Yuan, raised by more than just the Lan clan.
"People rarely say what they need to say." She had said the important things almost too late, even. And matters of the heart are hard to communicate, a fact she knew even before the war, even before everything that happened to them. But it's easy to find the anger and annoyance at Lan Wangji, especially when Wei Wuxian sounds so torn about it. Sure, he hides it well, but she learned to read his tone under pressure; it remains even now. "But we can make him talk, I'm sure. I can stab him a few times with my needles and we can interrogate him. Tell him about the importance of communicating such things to the people involved. Especially since that also impacts Sizhui."
(She realizes: if they are married— thrice over, and she wasn't even invited to one of the ceremonies— that makes Wei Wuxian a-Yuan's other parent. How would his life have changed, indeed.)
She grips her cup, forcing her hands to stay steady, something she can do no matter the conversation or how she feels. "I've never seen him drunk, but please, inform me the next time you drink." She wants to see that, just to see him at less than his best. Something close to bitterness swells in her and she stares into the depths of her cup. It's close to oolong but not quite, and it makes her miss the teas from Qishan, the homesickness making her choke for a second before she lifts the cup and sips.
"Wei Ying," she says, after another moment of silence. She considers her words and changes her mind on what to say. "If you don't want to be married, you can divorce. Do they have a ritual for that?" She'll help if needed.