SiZhui held hands with the boy he had known for most of his young life, the boy he had ended up marrying, as they walked down to the Jingshi.

Light snowfall had solidified into crunchy ice beneath their feet and it added to the magic that was Cloud Recesses incarnate. Icicles hung precariously off branches still bare, the buds of new leaves unable to leave hibernation yet. A robin flew past them chirping happily, and SiZhui lifted his face up, smiling towards the sound.

Jin Ling couldn't resist, and pulled him in closer for a kiss on those cold lips, enjoying the way he could still surprise his husband. It was still a novelty for him, to know that he had married pure and wholesome sunshine. A warmth that blazed with passion in the cold winter nights, and cool relief like marble under hot bare feet in the summertime.

He still didn't understand how he had missed the loving way SiZhui had been around him before they were married.

This kiss warmed them from the inside like sweet hot milk at night. It was comforting. Pulling away from the need to breathe, SiZhui stared into his burgundy eyes full of hope.

Jin Ling could drown in those chocolate eyes, dancing with love and joy.

He tried to accompany SiZhui as much as he could whenever the chance came to visit Cloud Recesses again.

SiZhui would never admit it, but he was different here than when they were in JinLinTai.

This was the place he had grown up, missing one father and gaining another. And, gaining friends and family, as the Lan Clan embraced this sweet child with his open smile and charming personality. SiZhui was as open as a window looking out upon a garden of flowers. And he was as beautiful as the rarest blooms.

Reluctantly, Jin Ling kissed his cold hand, grinning at the darkening of those beguiling beautiful eyes.

"I should go see my uncle."

As it was said with torn enthusiasm, SiZhui smiled back.

"I'll be right here when you come back." He watched Jin Ling walk away towards the Hanshi, admiring his stronger, broader shoulders.

All those hours practising sword forms and strengthening his core were proving to be beneficial not only to the one doing the hard work, but to his husband too. SiZhui knew Jin Ling made sincere attempts to honour not only his father, but both of his uncles too, and he was luckier he thought, because he got to enjoy the results.

And Jin Ling had matured too, in a weird way. SiZhui wasn't sure if it was at attempt to gain the confidence of his elders in LanLing or because of their marriage and consequent addition of his responsibilities, but Jin Ling was no longer overthinking his every move, needing approval at every stage, in short being a teenager.

He was learning to put other people in front of him in a healthy way that balanced his own mental growth, and SiZhui was so proud of him.

When he could no longer see even his shadow, SiZhui turned towards the Jingshi. His fingers caressed the old mahogany wood, as strong and dependable as his father. This place was an embodiment of Lan WangJi, a home that shouted Hanguang-Jun, like he and his fellow disciples often had, when they needed help.

The comfort and the relief that lived within these four walls was immeasurable, and SiZhui knew it was dependant upon the two people who lived here.

There was something infinitely satisfying...like a physical hug without the actual action, of coming here. SiZhui knew that his parents were here right now, and even if they weren't physically here, they were immortal now and would forever be around him. That thought alone was like a warm, thick fluffy blanket, like the snowy cotton-tail bunnies that used to cover him whenever he felt inexplicably sad.

Behind this door were the kindest people he had ever known.

Full of love and exuberance and the joy of living, even if they weren't exactly vocal about it.

And all he had to do was knock on the door.

It was his home just as much as theirs, but this advance warning was something every single disciple had learned at a cost. He smothered a smile, happy that his parents still loved each other so passionately.

The door opened and SiZhui was met with a vision in white. His father, Hanguang-Jun, Lan WangJi was standing right in front of him, and SiZhui couldn't help himself.

He threw his arms around his father, waiting until he relaxed, and not minding that hugging for this father was still something his father had to get used to. His other father had told him that in not so many words, but SiZhui was a sensitive child; he already knew.

This father was uncomfortable with hugs and touching from others, but this did not mean that once he got used to it, he didn't like it. Father Zhan was affectionate in other ways too, and SiZhui had missed the way his golden eyes blazed with unconditional love and a fierce protection.

He had no doubt at all of this man's love for him.

For a few minutes, they both relaxed, SiZhui taking in the warm sandalwood scent of his father, much loved and even more missed. The feel of his textured silk robes against his cheek as he held this precious man who had suffered so much.

He remembered as a child, seeing the blood seep from open wounds even as the bandages moved and his father would try to hide them from him. But wearing robes over his injuries was not a good idea, not when they were so raw.

He remembered his chubby little fingers wanting to take away the pain and heartbreak out of those eyes, wanting to make him proud, and not give him any reason for more sadness. It was part of why SiZhui was so diligent in his studies and on night hunts. To do well and without hurting himself or others of their clan.

He remembered that one night when Father Zhan had to accept his help with the thin muslin wrappings when they had become loose. He had been unable to reach his back on his own, and suddenly stopped when his long pale fingers had touched chubbier ones eager to help.

That night, things had changed between them to bring them even closer. Their shared grief over losing someone irreplaceable was another bond, one that nobody else understood.

So SiZhui hugged this strong man whose only weakness was the other man still asleep.

Lan Zhan was surprised at his son.

And as his own arms came around this precious boy, holding him close, the faint fragrance of jasmine flowers gave peace to his mind, a peace he hadn't realised he needed.

Sometimes he was so busy looking after everyone around him that he overlooked his own need for this kind of solace, a balm to his soul.

SiZhui was just as much his child as he was Wei Ying's, and Lan Zhan was so proud of him. If there was anything he regretted about his boy, it was his own inability to convey his deepest love and thoughts towards this tender person.

In that, Wei Ying was probably so much better at that than himself, and Lan Zhan smiled at the thought. He had long ago stopped comparing his parental skills and lamenting his own underconfidence of them. He could look at this bright ray of sunshine and happily know that the best parts of him were reflected here, in this chocolate-eyed boy.

"How are you father?" SiZhui asked him.

It was such a simple question.

But its answer was not.

As if sensing the reason for his hesitation, SiZhui looked towards their bed, where his other father was sleeping.

"I won't wake him." SiZhui promised, waiting for the nod and acceptance in his father's eyes.

Then he went to Wei Ying.

This father had both arms wrapped around a pillow, resting his flushed cheek upon the white cotton. His black hair swirled and curled around his face, for once not confined by his red ribbon. SiZhui glanced at it; it was folded and reverently placed on the side table next to an upside down cup resting on a saucer with a jug of water.

His first finger stroked the silkiness fondly before he bent down and kissed his father's cheek. He took a moment longer to revel in the soft lotus flowers' scent he was reminded of...but now there was an underlying tang.

Old...bitter...no, not bitter...it reminded him of his Uncle Ning.

He turned towards his father, who was watching him with a knowing look.

"Father...I can smell-"

"Come and sit down." Lan Zhan interrupted him, not wanting to hear the feared words from his son's mouth.

SiZhui had no choice but to do as he was told.

He went and sat at the little table, and was flooded with memories of his childhood, of doing written studies next to this father who was correcting papers or reading, or playing on his precious WangJi.

Now looking at this table, he saw many items, miscellaneous and seemingly without order. But one item stood out among all the rest.

It was a book.

SiZhui reached across and would have picked it up, but for one urgent word from his father.

"Don't."

*************

Jin Ling felt cheerful and was looking forward to visiting his uncles.

His Uncle XiChen was the direct opposite of his Uncle Cheng, but somehow they balanced each other out in such a surpringly good way.

He was glad that his Uncle Cheng had found someone to smooth out his rough edges, and the newest edition of Baby Li Li was a further softening of a man conditioned by Fate, molded by circumstances.

His Uncle Cheng was loosening up and Jin Ling loved it.

It had taken him a long time to accept his Uncle Cheng's superficial hardness and not see it as the love it so clearly was. And how could he blame that lonely man for being scared if anything happened to his only remaining blood relative? Jin Ling could understand that part better than anyone else now, having accepted responsibility for his own baby. Little QuQu was a menace, and a delightful one at that, but woe betide anyone thinking of harming her.

That warrior-like protection was a gut reaction and he could now appreciate why his Uncle Cheng had been the way he was.

He knocked on the door and entered.

Surprisingly, Uncle Cheng was alone for once.

"So you're back to normal, then?" He asked, smirking after hugging him.

Jiang Cheng gave him a light shove, but this only made the boy smile brighter.

"That was an accident and I won't be touching anything your Uncle Wei has been tampering with for a long time." Jiang Cheng scowled at the memory.

He still couldn't believe no one had told him about his face, and he had roamed around Cloud Recesses like a courtesan as if nothing had happened until Uncle Qiren had yelled at him.

That surely had brought back unwelcome memories.

"Anyway, that reminds me, when you get the time, can you bring back that collection of old things we found in the Swords Hall? Ask the curator, he'll know where it is. Your Uncle Wei might be interested in it. At the moment, it's just collecting dust."

Jiang Cheng was lost in thought.

Jin Ling watched him for a while.

"What are you worried about?" He asked, after the silence became intolerable.

Jiang Cheng shook himself out of his thoughts.

"Ah...it's nothing. How's QuQu?" He tried to deflect.

Jin Ling gave him a pointedly look.

"I'm a Sect Leader now. You can tell me." He said proudly, earning himself a harmless clip around his ears.

He blushed brighter than a ripe tomato. "What was that for? And, Ow?"

Jiang Cheng finally grinned at him.

"Even when you have gray hair, you'll always be an upstart." But like the sun swallowed up by the clouds, his smile disappeared, replaced by worry.

"Is it Uncle Wei?"

"When is it ever not?" Jiang Cheng sighed and poured tea for both of them. "He's sleeping for longer and longer ever since they have come back. It's not...natural. And Hanguang-Jun says it's getting longer. But at least he wakes up...not like those poor souls who go to sleep for three days and then pass away."

"Anything new on that investigation?" Jin Ling asked.

Something in his tone had Jiang Cheng looking up.

"Why?"