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Assistant: Title: To Be Near, To Be Still
        Author: leyasxharies leyasxharies 
        Chapter: 1/4 
        Summary: Adopted into the Lan Clan at four years old, Wei Wuxian grows up with quiet gratitude and unwavering obedience—determined to prove himself worthy of the home he was given. Now seventeen, soft-spoken and brilliant, he harbors a silent, aching admiration for the Lan Clan’s Second Jade: Lan Wangji.He doesn't know that Lan Wangji has been watching him too.A short slowburn tale of hidden glances, secret gift-giving, deep yearning, and the careful unraveling of two hearts learning they are wanted after all. With gentle clan support, subtle protectiveness, and the quiet magic of being seen, this is a love story made of lantern-light, soft footsteps, and threads pulled taut over time—until love ties them close.
        Contents: Chapter 1: Clouds Beneath His Feet
    

    


      
        
          Apologies in advance for any grammar issues. Please leave some feedback🥹
      
  

  
  
    
    Wei Wuxian was only four when he first arrived at the Cloud Recesses, wrapped in robes a little too big for his small body, clinging to the quiet man who introduced himself to the gatekeepers as Lan Jian—cousin of the previous Lan Clan leader, and one of the few distant relatives who had lived outside the sect.The boy said nothing that day. He only looked around with wide, frightened eyes, clutching Lan Jian’s sleeve in silence. His hair was a little too long, his sandals slightly mismatched, and the slight tremble in his shoulders gave away the fear he didn’t voice.The elders whispered among themselves. Who was he? A stray? A favor? A hidden burden? But Lan Jian said little, only bowed to Lan Qiren and stated firmly, “I ask for permission to raise this child within the Cloud Recesses. I will take full responsibility for his conduct and learning.”Wei Wuxian didn’t remember much of what was said that day. He only remembered the moment Lan Qiren knelt to look at him—stern and regal, with a long brow and sharp gaze and asked, “Do you know the rules here, child?”He had shaken his head.“Then you will learn. We follow discipline. Order. Stillness. Can you do that?”Wei Wuxian swallowed and nodded.That was how it began. It didn’t take long for the others to notice he was different.Not disruptive. Not wild. Not the way people would assume when they learned later—he isn’t a true Lan. He was quiet. Studious. Always listening.From the first day of formal lessons, he sat in the front row, still and respectful, copying each word with careful precision. He bowed a little lower than necessary. He stayed after class to clean the scroll racks without being asked.Lan Qiren, used to struggling with inattentive disciples and flippant young boys, was… surprised.By the end of the second week, he stopped asking who Wei Wuxian’s parents were.By the end of the first month, he started handing Wei Wuxian the lesson scrolls directly.By the end of the season, he had begun correcting others with a firm, “Follow Wei Wuxian’s example.”The other disciples started calling him “little model,” or “Lan Jian’s shadow,” but even their teasing held no malice. He never gave them reason to hate him.He never asked for praise.He simply tried harder than anyone else. Wei Wuxian didn’t know why Lan Jian had brought him here.He’d asked once, when he was six and curled up beside him by the lotus pond.“Why me?”Lan Jian had looked out at the still water for a long moment before answering.“You were left behind,” he said gently. “And I had room in my heart.”Wei Wuxian hadn’t spoken for a moment.Then he said softly, “I’ll be good.”“You already are,” Lan Jian replied.But Wei Wuxian didn’t believe it.He believed he had to earn it, this place, this quiet, this peace. It wasn’t his by right. So he worked, day after day, to deserve it. At ten, he began to notice Lan Wangji.Not just as “one of the older boys” or “the other Lan with a forehead ribbon,” but as… something else.He was unlike anyone else in the Cloud Recesses.Tall, composed, striking even in his youth. Already a prodigy in swordsmanship, already skilled in music cultivation, already reciting the precepts as if he’d been born knowing them.He rarely spoke. Rarely smiled.But he carried himself like the wind over a quiet mountain—still, yet immense.Wei Wuxian admired him from afar.He admired the way Wangji moved, precise and fluid. The way he lowered his eyes in respect when speaking to elders. The way he stood at attention during lectures, never once distracted.And most of all, he admired how Wangji seemed unshakable.Wei Wuxian, for all his careful posture and good behavior, still fidgeted when nervous. Still blushed when praised. Still doubted if he belonged.But Lan Wangji looked like he belonged everywhere.That was what made Wei Wuxian admire him most.And quietly, deeply, he wished he could become like that, too. He never told anyone.Never let his gaze linger too long during sword drills. Never let his thoughts drift during lectures. Never let his admiration show in any way that might draw attention.He was just a junior. Lan Wangji was the Second Young Master.It wasn’t his place to speak. Or hope.But when he went to Caiyi Town with Lan Jian and saw a cloud-patterned inkstone on a merchant’s stall, he thought of Lan Wangji.He bought it quietly.That night, he left it on the corner of Wangji’s desk, wrapped in blue silk, without a note.He did the same thing again a month later, this time, a pale ribbon with silver embroidery.He never said a word. At thirteen, he overheard someone call Wangji “Lan Zhan.”His breath caught.That name—it felt different. Personal. Close. The kind of name that required intimacy, not formality.Wei Wuxian didn’t know who the disciple was who said it. Just another young cultivator—one that Wangji seemed familiar with. They spoke briefly by the medicinal gardens, their tones soft, their expressions relaxed.Wei Wuxian, hidden behind a tree with a basket of herbs, watched in silence.He felt a sting in his chest—not anger. Not even jealousy. Just… the ache of distance.He wanted to say that name too.But he wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve to. By the time he turned fifteen, he was one of the top-ranked disciples in every subject—music theory, talisman crafting, spiritual cultivation, combat. Lan Qiren, strict as he was, never once held back praise when grading Wei Wuxian’s work.“A model student,” he said more than once. “Diligent. Disciplined.”Lan Xichen often sought him out with soft smiles and fond questions. The other elders nodded when he passed. Even Lan Wangji, once so distant, began nodding in greeting during shared practice drills.But still, Wei Wuxian never stepped closer.He still left his gifts quietly.He still watched from the edge.Because Wangji was the Second Jade of Lan.And he was… just someone lucky enough to be raised among them. The others didn’t see how hard he worked. How often he stayed late in the library to copy scrolls that didn’t require copying. How he practiced flute cultivation until his lips numbed. How he memorized all the precepts by age twelve, not because anyone asked him to—but because he wanted to prove he could.They didn’t see how his hands sometimes trembled when he thought he had disappointed Lan Jian. Or how his voice shook when answering questions from elders. Or how he never once asked for affection—not even from the family that loved him.But Lan Qiren saw.Lan Xichen saw.Even some disciples saw.And though Wei Wuxian never believed them when they said, “Everyone in the clan adores you,” he always smiled and said thank you.Because he wanted it to be true.Even if he didn’t think it was. One day, at age sixteen, during spring lectures in the open courtyard, a visiting cultivator from Qinghe Nie Sect leaned over to Wei Wuxian and whispered, “That’s Lan Wangji, right? The one everyone calls the Second Jade?”Wei Wuxian nodded quietly.“Is it true he doesn’t speak to anyone?”Wei Wuxian hesitated, then said, “He speaks when it’s needed.”The cultivator laughed. “He’s so… distant. Cold, even.”Wei Wuxian lowered his eyes.“…He’s not cold,” he said softly.The cultivator raised an eyebrow. “You know him that well?”“No,” Wei Wuxian admitted.But he wanted to.More than anything. When he turned seventeen, Lan Qiren began assigning him to more duties that involved senior disciples—restocking the talisman vaults, organizing lecture materials, compiling competition results.It meant he saw Lan Wangji more often.Sometimes just in passing.Sometimes working quietly in the same room.Once, during a late copying session, Wangji brought him a fresh brush when his own broke. No words were exchanged. Just the quiet offer of help.Wei Wuxian still remembered the way their fingers brushed.He didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t know that Lan Wangji watched him, too.Watched the way he stood a little straighter when praised. Watched the way he helped younger disciples with their posture without being asked. Watched how he always bowed with sincerity, not because he had to, but because he meant it.Watched the way he tried to disappear whenever Wangji entered a room.Lan Wangji, quiet and thoughtful, began to wonder: Why does he hide from me?And then he began to wonder: Why does it bother me?Wei Wuxian didn’t know any of this.All he knew was that he was seventeen now. Almost an adult. Almost ready to travel. Almost ready to choose a path in life.And still, he had never spoken to Lan Wangji for more than two sentences at a time.He had never said his name aloud.He had never once allowed himself to hope.But the cloud-patterned comb he left on Lan Wangji’s desk that spring?He wrapped it more carefully than any gift before.Because part of him, just a tiny part had begun to wonder…What if he does see me?'
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