innocent lotus flower

Reunion

It had been a full month since Lan Wangji began his relentless search for Wei Ying. And now, finally, he had found him.

By the second week of his campaign, the Jiang family had already begun to crumble. His calculated strikes on their assets, business partners, and political allies had been swift and merciless. With every blow, their influence evaporated. By the third week, they declared bankruptcy, and within another few days, their fall from grace was complete.

Jiang Yanli’s engagement to the influential Jin family was called off without ceremony. Jiang Cheng, once proud and entitled, was reduced to an errand boy at a struggling convenience store. Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian were forced to take up odd jobs—dishwashing, night cleaning, sorting trash—whatever they could find. No reputable company dared associate with them; the Jiang name had become a brand of shame.

But Lan Wangji wasn’t done with them. Not yet.

Once he reunited with Wei Ying and brought him home, he would teach them what it truly meant to lose everything. He would show them what it meant to live beneath the shadow of someone they had tried to destroy. He smirked at the thought—there would be no redemption for the Jiang family.

…

Ever since their disgrace, the Jiangs had become pariahs. Friends turned their backs. Business contacts blocked their numbers. Even neighbors avoided them like a plague. In desperation, they sold their jewelry, art pieces, and imported furniture just to afford a modest two-bedroom house in the inner city. But years of excessive spending left them unprepared. Madam Yu, in her refusal to accept their new status, continued to overspend and indulge her vanity.

Tension gripped the household like a vice.

Madam Yu's temper, already venomous, grew unbearable. Jiang Cheng, frustrated and humiliated, mirrored her fury. Their primary targets were the quiet, gentle Jiang Fengmian and the fragile Jiang Yanli. To Madam Yu, her husband was the root of their downfall.

“You useless man!” she screamed one evening, her shrill voice echoing through the house. “It’s your spinelessness that brought us here! You let a boy half your age destroy us. Are you not ashamed?”

Jiang Fengmian remained silent, head bowed. Her words no longer stirred him—they were part of his daily existence now.

“And you,” she turned on Jiang Yanli one morning as she reached for a cold bun, “how dare you eat before us? You don’t do anything but sit around, acting like some pampered flower. Not even a beautiful one! Your fiancé ran the moment he saw you!”

Her voice was filled with venom. “If you had been even remotely pretty, I could’ve married you off for a decent dowry. But you’re just a burden—wasting space and food!”

Jiang Cheng followed his mother’s lead. Where once he had looked up to his father, he now mocked him. Where once he had cherished his sister, he now ordered her around like a servant. On one particularly bad day, his anger exploded, and he struck Jiang Fengmian across the face. Madam Yu had not stopped him. Instead, she spat on her husband and hissed, “Maybe this will teach you to grow a spine.”

And so the Jiang family descended into their private hell, unaware that Lan Wangji’s return would usher in something far worse.

…

The café was unusually busy that night. Wei Ying hadn’t had a moment to breathe all day. By the time he closed up, his muscles ached, and exhaustion wrapped around him like a heavy cloak. Thankfully, Wen Ning had already taken A-Yuan home and tucked him in.

Wei Ying exhaled softly, dragging his feet toward the door. He reached for the “Closed” sign to flip it over—and froze.

Standing just outside, bathed in the golden glow of the streetlamp, was Lan Wangji.

Wei Ying’s entire body went cold.

His heart began to thunder in his chest, his hands trembling. “W-Wang Yibo?” he whispered, breath shallow, eyes wide. But no… that wasn’t his name anymore. Lan Wangji. The man who once swore to kill him if they ever met again. The man who had haunted his nightmares.

And now… he was standing here.

Wei Ying backed away instinctively as the door creaked open and Lan Wangji stepped inside, calm, unreadable, his gaze locked on him. Wei Ying’s knees gave out, and he fell, trembling. Panic clawed at his throat.

“Lan Wangji… please… please don’t kill me…” he gasped, voice cracking. “I’m sorry—I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again, I promise!”

He dropped to his knees, clutching at the hem of Lan Wangji’s trousers, sobbing into the fabric. “Please… please don’t hurt me…”

Lan Wangji stood frozen.

This—this was not what he expected.

He had known Wei Ying feared him… but this? This level of terror? It shattered something deep inside him.

He bent down instinctively, trying to reach out, to lift him gently—but before he could act, a small, soft voice called out from the hallway.

“Daddy?”

Lan Wangji’s head snapped up.

Standing a few feet away was a small boy, barely four, staring at him with wide, curious eyes. He had Wei Ying’s delicate lips, but the rest of his features… the shape of his face, the arch of his brows, the unmistakable eyes—he was a mirror of Lan Wangji himself.

Shock slammed into him like a truck.

Wei Ying immediately scrambled up, rushing to A-Yuan and pulling him into his arms protectively. His fingers trembled as he clutched his son to his chest, shielding him from Lan Wangji with every fiber of his being.

He didn't speak. He just waited.

Waited to see what Lan Wangji would do. Whether he would explode. Whether he would demand to take A-Yuan away. Whether he would hurt them both.

Lan Wangji stepped forward slowly, eyes never leaving the small child staring back at him. His heart was pounding, his mind spinning.

“I…” he said hoarsely, voice barely audible. “He’s mine?”

Wei Ying said nothing, only holding A-Yuan tighter.

Lan Wangji’s knees buckled. He dropped to the ground, trembling—not from rage, but from the overwhelming weight of what stood before him: a family he never knew he had. A life he had lost. A chance he might never get again.

And in that fragile moment, neither of them knew what the next words should be.