The Mad Ҡìղց

The truth

In the quiet, somber atmosphere of the Lan family chamber, Jiang Fengmian, Wei Ying, and Lan Wanji sat directly opposite Lan Qiren. Beside Lan Qiren sat Mrs. Lan, her serene yet observant eyes moving between the guests and her family. Lan Xichen, and Ayana, sat silently beside her.

Lan Qiren, always formal and measured, cleared his throat, breaking the stillness in the room. "Fengmian, I hear Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren perished alongside their entire clan," he began with his usual precision. "Why, then, does this boy carry her eyes?"

"M-Mother's eyes?" Lan Wanji murmured, curiosity flickering in his gaze. But a quick, disapproving glare from his dad silenced him.

"This conversation stays between us," Jiang Fengmian replied firmly, his tone edged with caution. At his words, Lan Xichen and Ayana cast a silencing spell, a shimmering barrier settling around the room to ensure that their conversation remained unheard by anyone outside. Only those present would bear the weight of this knowledge.

Jiang Fengmian looked at Wei Ying with a mixture of pity and resolve. His gaze held years of memories and untold secrets. "Five days before their clan was attacked," he began, his voice heavy, "Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren sent me a letter. They asked me to come, to take Wei Ying with me. He was just five years old at the time. His father said something to him before I took him—'Never change in front of anyone, or it will be the death of you.' I didn't understand then, but after they were massacred, the meaning became painfully clear." But my wife  was furious when I brought Wei Ying home."

Wei Ying lowered his gaze, the memory of his parents' last words to him still a fresh wound, though he'd carried it silently for years.

"Why would she be upset with him?" Mrs. Lan asked, her voice soft but sharp, seeking truth.

Fengmian continued, his voice more reflective. "My wife believed he was my son, that I had fathered him with Cangse Sanren." He paused, the discomfort evident in his expression. "I admit I admired her—Cangse Sanren—but she only saw me as a friend. When she met Wei Changze, they married, and I respected that. But my wife... she refused to believe me. "She tried to force him to shift into a lycan, as his father could," Fengmian admitted a trace of bitterness in his tone. "She was convinced he would transform eventually. She used magic, potions, and spells to try to trigger a change, but Wei Ying never shifted, not once. In her eyes, that was proof he was mine, and she punished him for it."

Lan Wanji's grip on Wei Ying's hand tightened. Wei Ying felt the warmth and silent reassurance in that touch, even as painful memories surfaced. The bruises and scars he bore were not only from physical abuse but from the emotional turmoil of feeling unwanted, of being seen as something he wasn't.

Fengmian glanced at Wei Ying, his face etched with regret. "One day, I tried to explain to him that maybe if he shifted, it would convince her he wasn't mine. But he looked at me and said he wouldn't change for anyone—that he would bear whatever came his way. And he has never shifted in front of anyone, even under torment. That strength... I didn't see it then, but I understand now."

For a moment, silence settled over them, heavy with revelation and sorrow.

"Goddess," Lan Qiren murmured, his usually stoic expression softened with rare compassion. "All this time..."

Wei Ying winced slightly, the pain of his past still a quiet ache. But Lan Wanji's hand was there, solid and warm, grounding him. He looked up at Lan Wanji, who met his gaze with fierce determination.

"He changed in front of me," Lan Wanji said, breaking the silence with a calm, steady voice. "He protected me."

A stunned silence followed, punctuated only by Jiang Fengmian's sharp intake of breath.